A bitter smile flitted over the girl's lips; but she passed this new sarcasm unnoticed and said gently: "Shall I put fresh bandages on your arm?" "It's too late now; you stayed away purposely." "I am sorry I was delayed; but allow me to do it now." "Leave me alone." "But the wound will be inflamed." "That's exactly what you are aiming at." "Godmother, I beg you!" "Don't come near me!" shrieked the sick woman furiously. "I shall wait then," sighed the girl. "Shall I warm up your milk?" "Milk! milk! and nothing but milk!--I am just sick of it. The doctor prescribed good chicken broth; and here it is Sunday, and I have had none since Tuesday." "It's no fault of mine, godmother. The doctor prescribes--but money must be found to provide what he orders. And I can scarcely make twenty sous a day now." "You don't mind what you spend on yourself," snapped Mme. Lacombe. "You know well that I have worn nothing but this faded print dress all winter," rejoined Mariette, with touching resignation. "I economize as much as I can--and we owe two quarters of rent." "You might as well say right now that I am a burden to you. These are the thanks I get for taking you out of the streets and paying for your apprenticeship!--you ungrateful, heartless child!" "No, no, I am not ungrateful, godmother!" protested Mariette, restraining her tears with difficulty. "And, if you suffered less, you would not be so unjust to me--but do take something, or else you will be ill." "I know it, I feel a terrible gnawing at my stomach." "Please have some milk, godmother," entreated the girl. "Go to the devil with your milk!" she snapped angrily. "Shall I get you some fresh eggs?" "No!" "Will you have some rice?" "I want some chicken!" "But I can't get one on credit." "You had twenty-seven sous in your purse this morning, and the quarter of a chicken will do me." "But, godmother, that money--" "Well, what about that money?" "It's gone; I have only a few sous left." "And where are those two ten-sous pieces?--Will you answer me?" "I--I don't know," faltered the girl, reproaching herself bitterly for spending her money on the letters. "They must have dropped from my purse; for I have lost them." "You lie!--I see it in your face." "I assure you--" "That's it," rejoined the sick woman, with a sardonic laugh, "she leaves me to rot on this wretched pallet, while she feasts on cakes and sweetmeats!" "I?--Oh, my God!" moaned the girl. "Out of here, you wretched creature! You may leave me to starve; but don't let me see your face again!" cried the unhappy woman, driven to desperation by the tortures she endured and the exasperating animosity of fate against her. "Ah! yes, you are very anxious to make me swallow that milk," she added, with a still more ironical laugh; "I am such a burden that you may have dropped something in it!"