At this moment, Etienne, hearing no further sounds, glided to the opening of his grotto like a young adder craving the sun.

He saw the tears of the stricken old man, he recognized the signs of a true grief, and, seizing his father's hand, he kissed him, saying in the voice of an angel:-- "Oh, mother! forgive me!" In the fever of his happiness the old duke lifted his feeble offspring in his arms and carried him, trembling like an abducted girl, toward the castle.

As he felt the palpitation of his son's body he strove to reassure him, kissing him with all the caution he might have shown in touching a delicate flower; and speaking in the gentlest tones he had ever in his life used, in order to soothe him.
"God's truth! you are like my poor Jeanne, dear child!" he said.

"Teach me what would give you pleasure, and I will give you all you can desire.
Grow strong! be well! I will show you how to ride a mare as pretty and gentle as yourself.

Nothing shall ever thwart or trouble you.