"Oh! how could he be so cruel!" cried the girl, clasping her two hands together. "He appeared so good, and expressed his sympathy so kindly for poor creatures like me, who can neither read nor write." "One thing is evident, my dear Mariette, he certainly deceived you." "But did you receive my letter at Dreux?" "It must have reached that city after I had left it," he said, unwilling to admit that it had been addressed to Paris. "But never mind it now," he added, anxious to drop a conversation which pained him so deeply; "we are happy and--" "Yes, you are happy enough," put in Mme. Lacombe, "but what about me?" "What do you mean, godmother?" asked Mariette. "I mean that I will never consent to such a marriage," she said harshly. "But my dear madame--" began Louis. "Tut, tut, tut, soft words won't blind me, young man;" she interrupted roughly. "If you are the son of a public writer, you are as penniless as Mariette; and two miseries united in marriage are worth three single ones. My goddaughter has enough of me to support, without a troop of famished children." "But, my dear godmother--" protested the girl. "Don't bother me!" she retorted angrily. "I know your plans; you simply want to rid yourself of me and leave me in the gutter to starve." "How can you believe such a thing!" cried Mariette, reproachfully, her eyes full of tears. "Your fears are groundless, I assure you," Louis hastened to say. "I have just discovered that my father is immensely wealthy, but for reasons of his own, he has kept the matter a secret until now." Mariette gazed at Louis with an air of mingled astonishment and delight at this unexpected information. Then she smiled through her tears and said, with a shade of defiance in her gentle voice: "You see, godmother, that the picture is not as dark as you painted it, we are quite able to take care of you as well as ourselves." "You are quite ready to fall into the trap, of course," rejoined the old woman, with a sarcastic laugh. "But, godmother--" "Don't you see that he is inventing those lies to obtain my consent to your marriage--" "Madame, I swear--" "And I tell you there is no truth in it; or, if you are rich, you don't want Mariette. A rich man would never be stupid enough to marry a poor girl who can neither read nor write." "You are mistaken," said Louis, with dignity; "the son of a rich man does not break the word given in his days of poverty, when his life's happiness depends on that word--" "Bah! mere phrases and words!" interrupted the woman sharply. "Rich or poor, you shall never have Mariette, until you have assured me a living. I don't ask much; only six hundred francs a year; but I must have it in money, with a contract deposited in the hands of a reliable notary." "Ah! godmother, why should you distrust Louis so?" protested Mariette tearfully.