et his dagger fall, and drawing his sword
put himself in a posture for fighting, imagining that I was the
murderer's accomplice; but when he saw that I was only concerned about
the slain man, and did not trouble myself about him, he hurried away.
Cardillac was still alive. After picking up and taking charge of the
dagger which the officer had let fall, I loaded my master upon my
shoulders and painfully hugged him home, carrying him up to the
workshop by way of the concealed stairs. The rest you know.

"You see, honoured lady, that my only crime consists in the fact that I
did not betray Madelon's father to the officers of the law, and so put
an end to his enormities. My hands are clean of any deed of blood. No
torture shall extort from me a confession of Cardillac's crimes. I will
not, in defiance of the Eternal Power, which veiled the father's
hideous bloodguiltiness from the eyes of the virtuous daughter, be
instrumental in unfolding all the misery of the past, which would now
have a far more disastrous effect upon her, nor do I wish to aid
worldly vengeance in rooting up the dead man from the earth which
covers him, nor that the executioner should now brand the mouldering
bones with dishonour. No; the beloved of my soul will weep for me as
one who has fallen innocent, and time will soften her sorrow; but how
irretrievable a shock would it be if she learnt of the fearful and
diabolical deeds of her dearly-loved father."

Olivier paused; but now a torrent of tears suddenly burst from his
eyes, and he threw himself at De Scuderi's feet imploringly. "Oh! now
you are convinced of my innocence--oh! surely you must be! have pity
upon me; tell me how my Madelon bears it." Mademoiselle summoned La
Martiniere, and in a few moments more Madelon's arms were round
Olivier's neck. "Now all is well again since you are here. I knew it, I
knew this most noble-minded lady would save you," cried Madelon again
and again; and Olivier forgot his situation and all that was impending
over him, he was free and happy. It was most touching to hear the two
mutually pour out all their troubles, and relate all that they had
suffered for one another's sake; then they embraced one another anew,
and wept with joy to see each other again.

If De Scuderi had not been already convinced of Olivier's innocence she
would assuredly have been satisfied of it now as she sat watching the
two, who forgot the world and their misery and their excessive
suffer