"Good-bye, then, my dear Louis; don't forget that I shall expect you before the day is over," said Saint-Herem, jumping into his brougham, while Louis turned toward Mariette's home. CHAPTER X. A sad picture met the young man's eyes, as he paused for a moment on the threshold of the room occupied by Mariette and her godmother. Lying on a thin mattress in a corner of the room was the young girl, seemingly unconscious; her features were of a deathly pallor and painfully contracted, and traces of abundant tears stained her marble cheeks; one hand lay listlessly at her side, while in the other she convulsively clutched the envelope containing the debris of Louis' letter. Kneeling by the bedside, her harsh, sarcastic features softened by an expression of touching grief and cruel anxiety, Mme. Lacombe was supporting Mariette's head with her mutilated arm, while with the other hand she was endeavoring to force a few drops of water through the livid lips. At the sight of a stranger standing in the doorway, however, her features resumed the habitual expression of harshness and moroseness. "What do you want?" she asked roughly. "Why do you come in without rapping at the door?--I don't know you!--who are you?" Taking no notice of these many questions, Louis rushed to the bedside and threw himself on his knees beside the unconscious girl, crying: "My God! what has happened?--Mariette, Mariette, speak to me!" "So you are Louis Richard?" exclaimed the old woman, her eyes flashing angrily as she gazed at the young man. "Yes; but in heaven's name, tell me what has happened to Mariette!" "You have killed her!" "I--great heavens!" "And when she is dead, you will provide for me, I suppose?" sneered Mme. Lacombe. "Dead!--Mariette dead!" gasped Louis. "It is impossible!--But we must summon a physician, do something--her hands are icy--Mariette! Mariette!" he called wildly. "My God! my God! she does not hear me!" "And this is all the fault of that letter of yours, you impudent scoundrel!" interposed the old woman fiercely. "My letter?--what letter?" he asked in astonishment. "Ah, yes; you will lie about it and deny the whole thing now, of course! But last night the poor child broke down in despair and confessed the whole thing to me." "But what did she have to confess?" "That she loved you and you had deserted her for another--" "But on the contrary I wrote to Mariette that--"