"A right to be rewarded? And have you not already earned that right? Do I not already owe you much? And did you not tend my sick bed with unfailing watchfulness, both night and day during my illness of the past year?" "Are you not 'my man,--my own dear man?'" "And for the reason that I am and ever shall be 'your man,' are you not bound to speak openly and candidly to me?" "For ever, Martial?" "Yes, for ever; as true as my name is Martial. I shall never care for any other woman in the world but you, my brave Louve. Never mind what you may have been, or what you may have done; that is nobody's affair but mine. I love you, and you love me; and, moreover, I owe you my life. But somehow, do you know, since you have been in prison I have not been like the same person. All sorts of fresh thoughts have come into my mind. I have thought it well over, and I have resolved that you shall no more be what you have been." "What can you mean?" "That I will never more quit you; neither will I part from Francois and Amandine." "Your young sister and brother?" "Yes; from this day forward I must be as a second father to these poor children. Don't you see, by imposing on myself fresh duties, I am compelled to alter and amend what is amiss in my way of conducting myself? But I consider it my positive task to take charge of these young things, or they will be made artful thieves. And the only way to save them is to take them from here." "Where to?" "That I know not; but certainly far from Paris." "And me?" "You? Why, of course, you go with me!" "With you?" exclaimed La Louve, with joyful surprise,--she could not credit the reality of such happiness. "And shall I never again be parted from you?" "No, my brave girl--never! You will help me to bring up my little sister and young brother. I know your heart. When I say to you, 'I greatly wish my poor little Amandine to grow up a virtuous and industrious woman. Just talk to her about it, and show her what to do,' I am quite sure and certain that you will be to her all the best mother could be to her own child." "Oh, thanks, Martial,--thanks, thanks!" "We shall live like honest workpeople. Never fear but we shall find work; for we will toil like slaves to content our employers; but, at least, these children will not be depraved and degraded beings like their parents. I shall not continually hear myself taunted with my father and brother's disgraceful end, neither shall I go through streets where you are known. But what is the matter,--what ails you?" "Oh, Martial, I feel as though I should go mad." "Mad!--for what?" "For joy." "And why should you go mad with joy?" "Because--because,--it is too much--" "What?" "I mean that what you propose is too great happiness for one like me to hope for. Oh, indeed, indeed, it is more than I can bear! But who knows? Perhaps saving La Goualeuse has brought me good luck,--that's it, I am sure and certain."