“No,” replied Louise, weeping, “you are rich and of noble birth, and you cannot marry a poor girl without father or mother. I shall love you as long as I live, but I cannot be your wife; for perhaps a day would come when you would be sorry that you had given me that title, and then I should be too wretched.” “Never! and it is very wicked of you to have any such idea!--But there’s the letter that you are to deliver to Monfréville--that should inform you who your parents are. I will throw myself at their feet, and they will have to consent to my becoming your husband.” Louise sighed and hung her head. “But am I worthy _now_ to find my parents?” she replied. “It seems to me that I no longer dare to deliver the letter to that gentleman; perhaps I should do better to destroy it.” Chérubin succeeded in allaying her fears; he decided to write to his friend and to send him the letter that the young woman dared not carry to him. So he at once wrote Monfréville the following letter: “My dear friend: “I have found my Louise; she is an angel who will embellish my life. She cannot be another’s now, for she is mine. O my dear Monfréville, I am the happiest of men, and I was not frightened this time. But then, I have never loved other women, and I adore this one. “Madame de Noirmont gave my Louise a letter for you, and told her that you could tell her who her father was; and it was while she was looking for your house that she fell in with that villainous Daréna, who took her to his _petite maison_, making her think that she was in your house. Luckily, I arrived in time! I send you this letter, my friend; come to us quickly, and tell us what you know. But if Louise’s parents would try to part us, do not make them known to her; for henceforth we cannot exist without each other.” Chérubin signed this letter, enclosed with it the one that was given to Louise, and sent them both to his friend early in the morning. Monfréville was alone when Chérubin’s letter was brought to him, and he lost no time in reading it. When he saw Madame de Noirmont’s name and learned what she had said to Louise, he trembled and turned pale, and his eyes instantly rested on the enclosure; he glanced at the superscription and exclaimed: “Yes, she has written to me; I recognize that writing, although it is a long while since my eyes last rested on it. Great God! what can have induced her to write to me, after swearing that she would never look upon me except as a stranger, that she would wipe the whole past from her memory? And this girl that she sent to me--Ah! if I dared to hope!” Monfréville broke the seal of Madame de Noirmont’s letter. Before reading it, he was obliged to pause again, for he was so excited that his eyes had difficulty in distinguishing the letters. At last he made an effort to recover himself, and read: “Monsieur: