She spoke the truth.  Agricola himself could not have hoped so prompt an effect from his words.  In spite of the deep traces which misery, grief, and sickness had imprinted on the girl’s features, they now shone with radiant happiness and serenity, whilst her blue eyes, gentle and pure as her soul, were fixed, without embarrassment, on those of Agricola.

“Oh! thanks, thanks!” cried the smith, in a rapture of delight:  “when I see you so calm, and so happy, Magdalen, I am indeed grateful.”

“Yes, I am calm, I am happy,” replied she; “and happy I shall be, for I can now tell you my most secret thoughts.  Yes, happy; for this day, which began so fatally, ends like a divine dream.  Far from being afraid, I now look at you with hope and joy.  I have again found my generous benefactress, and I am tranquil as to the fate of my poor sister.  Oh! shall we not soon see her?  I should like her to take part in this happiness.”

She seemed so happy, that the smith did not dare to inform her of the death of Cephyse, and reserved himself to communicate the same at a more fitting opportunity.  Therefore he answered:  “Cephyse, being the stronger, has been the more shaken; it will not be prudent, I am told, to see her to-day.”

“I will wait then.  I can repress my impatience, I have so much to say to you.”

“Dear, gentle Magdalen!”

“Oh, my friend!” cried the girl, interrupting Agricola, with tears of joy:  “I cannot tell you what I feel, when I hear you call me Magdalen.  It is so sweet, so soothing, that my heart expands with delight.”

“Poor girl! how dreadfully she must have suffered!” cried the smith, with inexpressible emotion, “when she displays so much happiness, so much gratitude, at being called by her own poor name!”

“But consider, my friend; that word in your mouth contains a new life for me.  If you only knew what hopes, what pleasures I can now see gleaming in the future!  If you knew all the cherished longings of my tenderness!  Your wife, the charming Angela, with her angel face and angel-soul—­oh! in my turn, I can say to, you, ’Look at me, and see how sweet that name is to my lips and heart!’ Yes, your charming, your good Angela will call me Magdalen—­and your children, Agricola, your children!—­dear little creatures!—­to them also I shall be Magdalen—­their good Magdalen—­and the love I shall bear them will make them mine, as well as their mother’s—­and I shall have my part in every maternal care—­and they will belong to us three; will they not, Agricola?—­Oh! let me, let me weep!  These tears without bitterness do me so much good; they are tears that need not be concealed.  Thank heaven! thank you, my friend! those other tears are I trust dried forever.”

For some seconds, this affecting scene had been overlooked by an invisible witness.  The smith and Mother Bunch had not perceived Mdlle. de Cardoville standing on the threshold of the door.  As Mother Bunch had said, this day, which dawned with all under such fatal auspices, had become for all a day of ineffable felicity.  Adrienne, too, was full of joy, for Djalma had been faithful to her, Djalma loved her with passion.  The odious appearances, of which she had been the dupe and victim, evidently formed part of a new plot of Rodin, and it only remained for Mdlle. de Cardoville to discover the end of these machinations.