"Those fifteen thousand francs are yours, madame," observed Louis. "Mine!" she cried, "mine!" then shaking her head incredulously, she resumed sharply; "That's it, laugh at a poor old woman--why can't you leave me in peace?--I don't see why this should belong to me!" "The money is to be used to provide a pension of twelve hundred francs for you," declared the young man, "that you may be independent after our marriage; for we shall be married as soon as possible." "Ah! yes; so you wish to bribe the old woman, and be rid of her once for all," growled the irritable Mme. Lacombe. "Do you imagine I would sell myself for money?" "Dear godmother," cried Mariette, throwing her arms about the woman's neck, "don't say we want to get rid of you! Louis had no thought of humiliating you with the money, he merely did what you requested." "I know it; but what will you, child," she said, softened in spite of herself. "It was the fear of starving in the streets, the fear of seeing you unhappily married that suggested the idea of a pension to me. I know that I have no right to expect such a thing, but one can never imagine what terror is inspired by the thought of being cast into the streets penniless, old and infirm as I am!--All I want is a poor mattress in a corner, a crust of bread, and the sight of Mariette's sweet face. I am so accustomed to see her come and go in this wretched room, that if she were not there I would think myself shut up in a dark tomb. And besides, she is the only person in the world who could be kind to me--all I ask is to remain with Mariette. That pile of gold dazzled me for a moment, but then it humiliated me too in my heart. One may be but a worm, and yet have some pride--and yet, when that man offered me gold for Mariette the other day, I was not humiliated--I was only furious. But now, here I am weeping; and Mariette knows I have not shed a tear for the last ten years. Bitterness may eat away the heart, but it does not melt it." "These tears will do you good, godmother," said Mariette gently. "Have confidence in the future, madame," added Louis, consolingly. "Mariette will never leave you. We shall not live in luxury, but in modest comfort; and Mariette shall continue to love you as a mother, while I shall love you as a dutiful son." "Are you really in earnest? do you really mean to keep me with you?" she asked, gazing earnestly into their faces, as though she would read their inmost thoughts. At this new proof of invincible distrust, the young people exchanged a look of compassion; then, taking the sick woman's hand in hers, Mariette said tenderly: "Yes, dear godmother, we shall keep you always with us, and nurse you as we would our own mother; you shall see how happy we shall make life to you--" "Yes, we shall make your life a dream of happiness," added Louis, affectionately.