Colin rode that same day to the Governor at Grasse, and came back early the next morning. But Justice Hautmartin only laughed at him, and removed all of Mother Manon’s suspicions by swearing he would let his nose be cut off if Colin did not pay three hundred livres for the broken cup. He also went with Mother Manon to talk with Father Jerome about the marriage, and impressed upon him the necessity of earnestly setting before Marietta her duty as an obedient daughter in not opposing the will of her mother. This the pious old man promised, although he understood not the half of what they shouted in his ear.

When Monday morning came Mother Manon said to her daughter: “Dress yourself handsomely, and carry this myrtle wreath to Father Jerome; he wants it for a bride.” Marietta dressed herself in her Sunday clothes, took the myrtle wreath unsuspiciously, and carried it to Father Jerome.

On the way Colin met her, and greeted her joyfully, though timidly; and when she told him where she was taking the wreath, Colin said: “I am going the same way, for I am carrying the money for the church’s tenths to the priest.” And as they went on he took her hand silently, and both trembled as if they designed some crime against each other.

“Hast thou forgiven me?” whispered Colin, anxiously. “Ah! Marietta, what have I done to thee, that thou art so cruel toward me?”

She could only say: “Be quiet, Colin, you shall have the ribbon again; and I will preserve the cup since it came from you! Did it really come from you?”

“Ah! Marietta, canst thou doubt it? All I have I would gladly give thee. Wilt thou, hereafter, be as kind to me as thou art to others?”

She replied not. But as she entered the parsonage she looked aside at him, and when she saw his fine eyes filled with tears, she whispered softly: “Dear Colin!” Then he bent down and kissed her hand. With this the door of a chamber opened and Father Jerome, with venerable aspect, stood before them. The young couple held fast to each other. I know not whether this was the effect of the hand-kissing, or the awe they felt for the sage.

Marietta handed him the myrtle wreath. He laid it upon her head and said: “Little children, love one another;” and then urged the good maiden, in the most touching and pathetic manner, to love Colin. For the old gentleman, from his hardness of hearing, had either mistaken the name of the bridegroom, or forgotten it, and thought Colin must be the bridegroom.

Then Marietta’s heart softened under the exhortation, and with tears and sobs she exclaimed: “Ah! I have loved him for a long time, but he hates me.”

“I hate thee, Marietta?” cried Colin. “My soul has lived only in thee since thou earnest to Napoule. Oh! Marietta, how could I hope and believe that thou didst love me? Does not all Napoule worship thee?”

“Why, then, dost thou avoid me, Colin, and prefer all my companions before me?”

“Oh! Marietta, I feared and trembled with love and anxiety when I beheld thee; I had not the courage to approach thee; and when I was away from thee I was most miserable.”

As they talked thus with each other the good father thought they were quarreling; and he threw his arms around them, brought them together, and said imploringly: “Little children, love one another.”

Then Marietta sank on Colin’s breast, and Colin threw his arms around her, and both faces beamed with rapture. They forgot the priest, the whole world. Each was sunk into the other, Both had so completely lost their recollection that, unwittingly, they followed the delightful Father Jerome into the church and before the altar.

“Marietta!” sighed he.

“Colin!” sighed she.

In the church there were many devout worshipers; but they witnessed Colin’s and Marietta’s marriage with amazement. Many ran out before the close of the ceremony, to spread the news throughout Napoule: “Colin and Marietta are married.”

When the solemnization was over, Father Jerome rejoiced that he had succeeded so well, and that such little opposition had been made by the parties. He led them into the parsonage.