"Ah! god-mother," she cried, throwing her arms around the woman's neck, "I knew that you loved me as a daughter!" Then turning toward Commander de La Miraudière, whom she recognized as the man whose persistent gaze had so frequently annoyed her at Madame Jourdan's establishment, she added with withering scorn: "Go, this moment, monsieur!" "But, my dear little dove--" he began. "I was there at the door, monsieur, and heard all," she interrupted quickly. "So much the better then, my dear. You know my offer; you are still at liberty to accept it." "Once more, monsieur, I beg you to go out." "There, there, I am going my little Lucretia! But I give you a week for reflection," said the visitor, as he moved toward the door, Pausing on the threshold, however, he added: "Don't forget my name, my dear--Commander de La Miraudière. Madame Jourdan has my address," and he vanished with these words. "Ah! godmother," cried the girl, kissing the sick woman with new effusion, "how warmly you defended me! how your heart spoke for me!" "Yes, yes," muttered the invalid, roughly disengaging herself from the girl's embrace, "and with those fine principles we starve instead of rolling in luxury." "But, my dear godmother--" Mariette tried to protest. "There, there, it's all said and done now," cried the woman impatiently. "I have done my duty, and you have done yours--and it's small good it will do either of us, you may count on that!" "But godmother, listen to me--" "And if some fine morning we are both found dead with a charcoal fire between us, we shall only have done our duty once more. Ha! ha! ha!--" and with this grim laugh, this unhappy creature, so pursued and exasperated by wretchedness and misfortune, cut short the conversation by turning her face to the wall. Mariette silently brought in the basket containing her purchases, arranged the supper on the table near the bed, and quietly withdrew to the narrow window through which filtered the deepening twilight. Then drawing the torn fragments of Louis' letter from her bosom, she gazed at them sadly, and sank back into grim despair. * * * * * * In the meantime, Commander de La Miraudière had reached the street and was rolling away rapidly in his dashing cabriolet. "Bah! this is only a first rebuff," he was saying complacently to himself; "the girl will reflect, and that old schemer will think better of it. Her round eyes fairly blinked at the sight of my gold; it dazzled her like the noonday sun. Besides, their abject misery will plead in my favor, and I have no reason to despair. Two months of fat living will suffice to make the girl the prettiest woman in Paris; and she will do me credit at very small cost. But I must think of business now; I have made a precious discovery." Having reached the Rue Grenelle-Saint-Honoré, he stopped his horse before a house of modest appearance and alighted. "Does M. Richard reside here?" he inquired of the concierge.