you, Mademoiselle. Your _protege_ Olivier Brusson, is
free." The tears gushed from the old lady's eyes; unable to speak a
word, she was about to throw herself at the king's feet. But he
prevented her, saying, "Go, go, Mademoiselle. You ought to be my
advocate in Parliament and plead my causes, for, by St. Denis, there's
nobody on earth could withstand your eloquence; and yet," he continued,
"and yet when Virtue herself has taken a man under her own protection,
is he not safe from all base accusations, from the _Chambre Ardente_
and all other tribunals in the world?" De Scuderi now found words and
poured them out in a stream of glowing thanks. The king interrupted
her, by informing her that she herself would find awaiting her in her
own house still warmer thanks than he had a right to claim from her,
for probably at that moment the happy Olivier was clasping his Madelon
in his arms. "Bontems shall pay you a thousand _Louis d'or_," concluded
the king. "Give them in my name to the little girl as a dowry. Let her
marry her Brusson, who doesn't deserve such good fortune, and then let
them both be gone out of Paris, for such is my will."

La Martiniere came running forward to meet her mistress, and Baptiste
behind her; the faces of both were radiant with joy; both cried
delighted, "He is here! he is free! O the dear young people!" The happy
couple threw themselves at Mademoiselle's feet. "Oh! I knew it! I knew
it!" cried Madelon. "I knew that you, that nobody but you, would save
my darling Olivier." "And O my mother," cried Olivier, "my belief in
you never wavered." They both kissed the honoured lady's hands, and
shed innumerable tears. Then they embraced each other again and again,
affirming that the exquisite happiness of that moment outweighed all
the unutterable sufferings of the days that were past; and they vowed
never to part from each other till Death himself came to part them.

A few days later they were united by the blessing of the priest. Even
though it had not been the King's wish, Brusson would not have stayed
in Paris, where everything would have reminded him of the fearful time
of Cardillac's crimes, and where, moreover, some accident might reveal
in pernicious wise his dark secret, now become known to several
persons, and so his peace of mind might be ruined for ever. Almost
immediately after the wedding he set out with his young wife for
Geneva, Mademoiselle's blessings accompanying them on the way. Richly