“And now clasp hands, my children, and exchange the kiss of betrothal,” cried the Duke of Vallombreuse gaily.  “Verily, the romance ends more happily than could have been expected after such a stormy beginning.  And now the next question is, when shall the wedding be?”

“It will take a little time to make due preparation,” said the prince.  “So many people must be set to work, in order that the marriage of my only daughter may be worthily celebrated.  Meanwhile, Isabelle, here is your dowry, the deed of the estate of Lineuil—­from which you derive your title, and which yields you an income of fifty thousand crowns per annum—­together with rent-rolls, and all the various documents appertaining thereto”—­and he handed a formidable roll of papers to her.  “As to you, my dear de Sigognac, I have here for you a royal ordinance, which constitutes you governor of a province; and no one, I venture to say, could be more worthy of this distinguished honour than yourself.”

Vallombreuse, who had gone out of the room while his father was speaking, now made his appearance, followed by a servant carrying a box covered with crimson velvet.

He took it from the lackey at the door, and advancing, placed it upon the table in front of Isabelle.

“My dear little sister,” said he, “will you accept this from me as a wedding gift?”

On the cover was inscribed “For Isabelle,” in golden letters, and it contained the very casket which the Duke of Vallombreuse had offered at Poitiers to the young actress, and which she had so indignantly refused to receive, or even look at.

“You will accept it this time?” he pleaded, with a radiant smile; “and honour these diamonds of finest water, and these pearls of richest lustre, by wearing them, for my sake.  They are not more pure and beautiful than yourself.”

Isabelle smilingly took up a magnificent necklace and clasped it round her fair neck, to show that she harboured no resentment; then put the exquisite bracelets on her round, white arms, and decked herself with the various superb ornaments that the beautiful casket contained.

And now we have only to add, that a week later Isabelle and de Sigognac were united in marriage in the chapel at Vallombreuse, which was brilliantly lighted, and filled with fragrance from the profusion of flowers that converted it into a very bower.  The music was heavenly, the fair bride adorably beautiful, with her long white veil floating about her, and the Baron de Sigognac radiant with happiness.  The Marquis de Bruyeres was one of his witnesses, and a most brilliant and aristocratic assemblage “assisted” at this notable wedding in high life.  No one, who had not been previously informed of it, could ever have suspected that the lovely bride—­at once so noble and modest, so dignified and graceful, so gentle and refined, yet with as lofty a bearing as a princess of the blood royal—­had only a short time before been one of a band of strolling players, nightly fulfilling her duties as an actress.  While de Sigognac, governor of a province, captain of mousquetaires, superbly dressed, dignified, stately and affable, the very beau-ideal of a distinguished young nobleman, had nothing about him to recall the poor, shabby, disconsolate youth, almost starving in his dreary, half-ruined chateau, whose misery was described at the beginning of this tale.