A CARDINAL SIN

by

EUGENE SUE

Translated by Alexina Loranger

ChicagoW. B. Conkey CompanyCopyright, 1892by Morrill, Higgins & Co. Copyright, 1893by W. B. Conkey Company

A CARDINAL SIN. 

CHAPTER I. 

On a beautiful, bright morning of the month of May, 18--, a young girlof eighteen years or thereabouts, whose pale, melancholy face reflectedonly too plainly the wretchedness and privations of her daily life, waswending her way, timidly and with hesitating steps, through thatpopulous quarter of the city known as the _Charnier des Innocents_, adreary spot, principally noted for its large number of public scribes, who make a precarious living by acting as secretaries to the ignorantpeople of the vicinity. 

Two or three times she paused, undecided, before an open door; then, thinking perhaps that the writer was either too young orunprepossessing, she slowly resumed her search. She had reached thelast of the row, and was on the point of retracing her steps, when hergaze fell on a venerable old man, whose benign countenance beamedkindly on her from his desk; and without further hesitation sheresolutely entered the little shop. 

Struck by the touching beauty and modest attitude of the young girl, the scribe greeted her with paternal affability, and discreetly drawingthe curtain over the dingy window, motioned her to a seat, while hesank back into his old leather-covered arm-chair and waited for her tospeak. 

The girl's pretty face flushed and she cast down her large, blue eyesin embarrassment, while a painful silence followed. She was evidentlyagitated by a deep emotion, for her breast heaved visibly beneath theworn merino shawl she wore over her faded gingham dress, and her handstrembled slightly as she folded them on her lap. 

"Why this embarrassment, my dear child?" said the old man kindly. "Doyou wish me to draw up a petition, a request, or write a letter?"

"Yes, monsieur, I want a letter written, " she replied in a low, softvoice, her face flushing still more painfully. 

"Can you not write?"

She shook her head and cast down her eyes once more. 

Fearing he had needlessly humiliated his client, the old man hastenedto add:

"Poor child, do you suppose me capable of blaming your ignorance?"

"Monsieur!--" she began in protestation. 

"Ah! believe me, " he interrupted, "I feel a great deal of compassionfor persons who, having no education, are forced to have recourse tomen of my profession, to admit them into their confidence, and revealtheir most secret and dearest thoughts! It is very painful, is it not?"

"Yes, indeed, monsieur!" exclaimed the girl, touched by these words. "To be obliged to address myself to a stranger, to--"

Her eyes filled with tears and she paused in confusion. 

"My dear child, pray recover your composure, " entreated the scribe. "You need fear neither indiscretion nor ridicule with me. Theconfidence reposed in me by persons whom chance or misfortune hasdeprived of the benefits of education, has always been considered assacred to me. "

"Oh! thank you, monsieur; you relieve me of half my grief byunderstanding and excusing my embarrassment, " said Mariette, gratefully. "Oh! yes, " she went on with a sigh, "it is very cruel toknow neither how to read nor write; but alas! it is not my fault. "

"Ah! my poor child, like many others who come to me, it is the want ofopportunity, and not the absence of good will, which has deprived youof knowledge. Some are forced to assume the care of younger brothersand sisters while the parents work; others are sent out as apprenticesat an early age--"

"I was placed as an apprentice at the age of nine, " sighed Mariette, "and until that time I was retained at home to care for a littlebrother, who died shortly before my parents. "

"Poor child, your story is similar to those of your companions thatcome to me. But why did you not try to gain some education when youhad finished your apprenticeship?"

"Where would I find the time, monsieur? I work almost day and night toprovide for my godmother and myself--"

"Time, alas! is the bread of the poor!" broke in the old man; "theymust starve to death or live in ignorance. "

He paused for a moment, then asked with renewed interest: "You speak ofyour godmother; have you no other relative?"

"No, Monsieur, " replied the girl sadly. 

"But forgive me, I am taking up your time uselessly instead of comingto the purpose of my visit. "

"My time could not be better employed than in listening to you, mychild; for I am sure you are a good and honest girl. Now let us seeabout the letter. Will you merely state what you wish to write, or doyou prefer to dictate to me?"

"I prefer to dictate the letter. "

"Very well, I am ready, " declared the old man, adjusting his glassesand bending over his desk that he might not increase his prettyclient's confusion. 

With down-cast eyes, and after a moment of hesitation, Mariette began:

"Monsieur Louis--"

At the name of Louis the old man started, but said quietly: "It iswritten, my child. "

Nothwithstanding her confidence in the old man, the girl instinctivelyshrank from revealing her inmost thoughts to a stranger. But after amomentary pause, she went on hesitatingly:

"I have received no word from you, and I am very sad. Yet, you hadpromised to write during your voyage--"

"During your voyage, " repeated the writer, who had become suddenlythoughtful. "A strange coincidence, " he said to himself, with growinganxiety. "His name is Louis, and he is away. "

"I hope that you are well, " continued the girl, "and that your silenceis not caused by illness, for my grief would be doubled. "

"To-day is the sixth of May, Monsieur Louis--_the sixth of May_--and Iwould not let the day pass without reminding you of me. Perhaps youhad the same thought also, and I may receive a letter from you when youreceive this from me, the day after to-morrow. Then I shall know thatthe delay was not caused by illness or forgetfulness, and how happy Ishall be! I shall therefore await the day after to-morrow with muchimpatience. May heaven protect me from disappointment, MonsieurLouis--"

Mariette stifled a sigh and wiped a tear from her pale cheek. 

The features of the writer, who still bent low over his desk, wereinvisible to the young girl, and she was unconscious of the expressionof alarm that had crept over them. Two or three times, while writing, he had cast furtive, scrutinizing glances at his client; and it wasevident that his first impulse of sympathetic interest was changing torestraint caused by serious apprehensions. 

Folding her hands once more on her lap, Mariette resumed:

"I have nothing new to tell you, Monsieur Louis. My godmother is stillill, she suffers very much, and the torture she undergoes embitters hercharacter more and more. That I may be near her as much as possible, Inow work at home instead of going to Mme. Jourdan. The days seemwretchedly long and sad, for working at the shop with my companions ismuch more cheerful, and I can accomplish more. I am therefore obligedto stay up very late; and I sleep but little, as my godmother alwayssuffers more at night and, consequently needs more care. Sometimes Ifail to hear her first call, I sleep so soundly; then she scolds me, which is only natural when she suffers so much. 

"I tell you these things to show you that my life is not a happy one, and that one word of friendship from you would encourage and console mefor so many sad things. 

"Farewell, Monsieur Louis. I counted on Augustine to write; but shehas gone away and I am dictating this letter to another person. Ah!never have I so much regretted my inability to read and write as atthis moment. Farewell, once more, Monsieur Louis; think of me I begyou, for I think of you always. "

"Is this all, my child?" queried the old man, after a moment of silence. 

"Yes, monsieur. "

"And what name shall I sign?"

"Mariette. "

"Mariette only?"

"Mariette Moreau, if you please. "

"Mariette Moreau, " repeated the old man, as he inscribed the name. 

Then folding the letter, he made a violent effort to conceal the secretanguish with which he awaited the reply to his question, and asked:

"To whom shall I address it?"

"To M. Louis Richard, at Dreux, to be called for. "

"No more doubt of it, " thought the old man, as he prepared to addressthe letter. 

Had the young girl been less pre-occupied with her, own thoughts, shecould not have failed to remark the harsh expression which darkened thepublic writer's countenance when he learned beyond doubt to whom thisinnocent missive was addressed. In fact, he seemed unable to make uphis mind to inscribe the name given, for when he had written the word"Monsieur, " he suddenly dropped the pen and looked up. 

"My dear child, " he began, trying to smile with his usual benevolence, that he might not betray his resentment and apprehensions, "althoughthis is the first time we meet, it seems to me that I have inspiredconfidence in you. "

"Indeed you have, monsieur, " she assured him. "Before entering yourhouse I feared I would not find the courage to dictate the letter to atotal stranger; but you received me with so much kindness that myembarrassment has almost completely melted away. "

"Why should you have felt any embarrassment, my child? Even though Iwere your father, I could not find a word to reproach you in what youhave written to--to M. Louis--and it I did not fear to abuse yourconfidence in me I would ask--but no--it would be an indiscretion. "

"What would you ask, monsieur?"

"Who this M. Louis Richard is. "

"Oh! that's no secret, I assure you. M. Louis is a student; thenotary's office in which he is employed is in the same building as theshop in which I work. That is how we met, just one year ago to-day. "

"Ah! I now understand why you insisted on the date of your letter;to-day is the anniversary of your first meeting!"

"Yes, monsieur. "

"And you love each other. There, don't blush, my child--I suppose youwill marry some day?"

"Yes, monsieur. "

"Has M. Louis' family consented to the marriage?"

"M. Louis has no one to consult but his father, and we hope he will notrefuse his consent. "

"And what kind of a man is he?"

"The best of fathers--so M. Louis tells me--and a man who endures hispoverty most courageously, although he once had a comfortable home. But M. Louis and his father are now as poor as godmother and myself;and this is why we expect no opposition to our marriage. No difficultycan arise between poor people. "

"It seems to me that your godmother does not make life very happy foryou, my child. "

"What will you? it is so natural to be ill-humored when one suffersincessantly and life is but a continual round of misfortunes. "

"Is she a cripple?"

"She has lost one hand, besides being afflicted with a lung diseasewhich has kept her confined to her bed for more than a year. "

"How did she lose that hand?"

"She pricked her finger with a mattress needle, and as she could notstop work, blood poisoning followed, and she was forced to have her armamputated. "

"Poor woman, " broke in the old man, absent-mindedly. 

"As for her lung trouble, it is very common among women who continuallybreathe the dust arising from the wool used in mattresses. Mygodmother is almost bent double, and during her long paroxysms ofcoughing I am sometimes obliged to support her in my arms for hours. "

"You alone, then, contribute to her support?"

"Certainly, since she is unable to work. "

"Such devotion on your part is very generous. "

"I only do my duty, monsieur. She gave me shelter after my parentsdied, and paid for my three years of apprenticeship in the shop. Is itnot just that I should now care for her?"

"You must work very hard to earn sufficiently. "

"From fifteen to eighteen hours a day. "

"And instead of taking a much needed rest at night, you watch over yourgodmother?"

"Who would care for her if I did not?"

"Why not try to place her in the hospital?"

"She would not be admitted, as her case is incurable. Besides, Iscarcely think I would have the courage to desert her thus. "

"You are indeed a noble girl, my child, and I judged you rightly, "declared the old man, grasping her hand in his. 

"Oh! my God!" cried Mariette, as she saw his sleeve catch the inkstand, spilling the contents over the precious letter. "Ah! monsieur, what amisfortune!"

"What awkwardness!" exclaimed the writer angrily. "But never mind, Ican copy it in a very few minutes. I shall read it aloud as I go on, so that you may suggest any change you may think proper. "

"I am so grieved to give you all this trouble, " she murmured, evidentlymuch distressed. 

"It serves me right, my dear, --I alone am to blame. "

As he resumed his work, a violent internal conflict seemed reflected onhis features; from time to time a sigh of relief and satisfactionescaped his lips; then again he appeared confused and avoidedMariette's limpid gaze; while she leaned on the table, her headsupported on one hand, anxiously and enviously following the rapid penof the writer, as he traced the magic characters that would convey herthoughts to her lover. 

"How much do I owe you, monsieur?" she asked timidly, when he hadfolded the missive and addressed it. 

"Fifty centimes, " rejoined the old man, after a moment of hesitation, "and remember that I charge you for one of the letters only. I aloneam responsible for my awkwardness. "

"You are very kind, monsieur, " said Mariette, touched by what sheconsidered a proof of generosity on his part. "Indeed, " she added, asshe replaced her slender purse into her pocket, "you have been so goodto me that I shall ask you a very great service--"

"Go on, my child. "

"If I have more letters to send, it will be almost impossible for me togo to a stranger--"

"I shall always be at your service, my child. "

"What I wished to say was, that my godmother is also unable to write orread, and the friend who was my confidante has gone to the country. Soif I should receive a letter from M. Louis, would you have the goodnessto read it for me? I would then dictate the answer at once. "

"Certainly, my child; bring me all your letters, " rejoined the old man, dissimulating his satisfaction. "I am indeed much gratified by theconfidence you show in me. Good-bye, then. I hope you feel lessembarrassment now than when you entered?"

"I did not expect so much kindness, monsieur. "

"Try to look on me as your reader and secretary, my child. Does it notseem as though we had known each other for ten years. "

"Indeed it does--Good-bye, monsieur. "

Mariette had scarcely vanished, when the postman pushed the door openand handed in a letter, saying: "Here is a letter from Dreux, pèreRichard. "

"A letter from Dreux!" exclaimed the old man, grasping it eagerly andexamining the writing closely. "Ah! it comes from Ramon, " he mutteredto himself. "I wonder what he thinks of my son? Alas! what will nowbecome of the fine projects so long formed between us!"

"Six sous, père Richard, " observed the postman, arousing him from hisreverie. 

"Six sous!" cried the old man. "The devil! was it not prepaid? Ah!true enough, " he sighed, as he regretfully handed the man the coin hehad just received from Mariette. 

CHAPTER II. 

In the meantime, Mariette was hurrying homeward, somewhat uneasy at thethought of her long absence. Having reached that sad, gloomy streetknown as the Rue des Prêtres-Saint-Germain, she walked rapidly alonguntil she came to the last dingy house facing the dark walls of thechurch, where she entered. Crossing an obscure passage, the girlascended a rickety stairway, only dimly lighted from a small court-yardthat resembled nothing more than a narrow well, and stopped at the doorof the _portière_. 

"Madame Justin, " she said to the woman, who stood on the threshold, "have you been up to see if my godmother wanted anything?"

"I carried up her milk, Mademoiselle Mariette, " replied the woman, "butshe was in such a temper that she received me like a dog. "

"We must take pity on her, Madame Justin; she suffers so much. "

"Of course you always excuse her and suffer everything in silence, Mademoiselle Mariette. It shows your kind heart, but it does not alterthe fact that your godmother is as wicked as a red mule. Poor child!you are doing your purgatory on earth; and if there is no Heaven, youwill be well cheated. "

"Good-bye, Madame Justin, I must go up now. "

"Wait a moment, I have a letter for you. "

"A letter!" cried Mariette, her cheeks flushing and her heart throbbingviolently. "Is it from the provinces?"

"Yes; the postmark is from Dreux, and it costs her six sous. Here itis. The word 'Urgent' is written in one corner of the envelope. "

The girl thrust the missive in her bosom; then drawing her purse, shetook out her last ten-sou piece and paid the woman. Taking her key, she then ran up the last stairs, her heart beating wildly with asensation of mingled happiness and sadness. Though she was happy inthe possession of the letter, the word "Urgent" on the corner of theenvelope filled her with misgivings; besides, what sadness filled herheart at the thought that perhaps several hours must elapse before shecould learn what Louis Richard had written. 

Having finally reached the fifth floor of the dilapidated house, sogloomy and ill-smelling, with its atmosphere poisoned by stagnant waterin the defective sinks and sewers, she hesitatingly entered the dingyroom occupied by her godmother and herself. 

A woman was lying with her face to the wall, on the only bed that theroom boasted; while the thin mattress that served Mariette as a couchwas rolled in a corner, as much out of the way as possible. A worktable, an old dresser, two chairs, and a few kitchen utensils hangingaround the chimney, composed the sole furniture of this humble home, lighted only by a narrow window overlooking the gloomy yard, but themost rigorous neatness was remarkable everywhere. 

The girl's godmother, Madame Lacombe, was a tall, gaunt woman of fiftyyears, with a cadaverous complexion and harsh, disagreeable features. A bitter, sardonic smile, caused by a lifetime of misery and suffering, habitually contracted her livid lips, her form being almost bentdouble; her mutilated arm and bilious face, enframed in a ragged cap, through which hung long wisps of gray hair, were alone visible outsidethe coverings. 

"Where have you been?" she cried, in a rasping voice, making an effortto tarn in her bed as the girl entered. 

"Dear godmother, I--" began Mariette. 

"Oh, yes; you go running about the streets, leaving me here alone tofret and fume!" interrupted the woman furiously. 

"But I was scarcely gone an hour, " protested the girl. 

"And you hoped to find me dead on your return, eh?"

"Heavens! how can you think such a thing!" sobbed Mariette. 

"Oh! yes; you may whine now. But I am not your dupe! You have hadenough of me; and the day when I am screwed down in my coffin will be aday of rejoicing for you--and so will it be for me, too--Oh! my God!this is too much agony, " she groaned, pressing her thin hand to herbreast. 

Mariette wiped away the tears drawn by this harsh sarcasm, andapproaching the bed, said sweetly: "You had such a bad night that Ithought you might sleep a little in my absence. "

"Oh! yes--you leave me here alone, to die like a dog, while you runabout the streets. "

"I was obliged to go out; but Madame Justin promised--"

"I had rather see death itself than that creature, " interrupted thesick woman angrily, "and you take every opportunity to send her to me. "

A bitter smile flitted over the girl's lips; but she passed this newsarcasm unnoticed and said gently: "Shall I put fresh bandages on yourarm?"

"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 doctorprescribed good chicken broth; and here it is Sunday, and I have hadnone since Tuesday. "

"It's no fault of mine, godmother. The doctor prescribes--but moneymust be found to provide what he orders. And I can scarcely maketwenty 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 allwinter, " rejoined Mariette, with touching resignation. "I economize asmuch 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 arethe thanks I get for taking you out of the streets and paying for yourapprenticeship!--you ungrateful, heartless child!"

"No, no, I am not ungrateful, godmother!" protested Mariette, restraining her tears with difficulty. "And, if you suffered less, youwould not be so unjust to me--but do take something, or else you willbe 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 quarterof 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 forspending her money on the letters. "They must have dropped from mypurse; 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, "sheleaves me to rot on this wretched pallet, while she feasts on cakes andsweetmeats!"

"I?--Oh, my God!" moaned the girl. 

"Out of here, you wretched creature! You may leave me to starve; butdon't let me see your face again!" cried the unhappy woman, driven todesperation by the tortures she endured and the exasperating animosityof fate against her. "Ah! yes, you are very anxious to make me swallowthat milk, " she added, with a still more ironical laugh; "I am such aburden that you may have dropped something in it!"

At this accusation--still more senseless than atrocious--Marietteremained for a moment dumbfounded, not realizing the full meaning ofthe horrible words. But when their full sense burst upon her, sheclasped her two hands together and shrank back in terror; then, unableto restrain her sobs any longer, and yielding to an irresistibleimpulse, she threw her arms about the sick woman's neck and, coveringher face with tears and kisses, murmured brokenly: "Oh! godmother!godmother!"

This heart-broken protestation against an accusation which could havehad its birth in a delirious brain only, fortunately recalled the sickwoman to reason. Her heart relaxed a little under this flow of tears, and she realized her injustice. 

"There, there, little one, " she said with emotion, as she took one ofthe girl's trembling hands in hers and pressed the quivering formagainst her breast, "don't cry so--how foolish you are!--don't you seeI was only jesting?"

Jesting! A sad jest, alas! worthy only of such abject misery. 

"Yes; I was wrong to take your words seriously, " returned Mariette, wiping away the tears from her pale cheeks. 

"What will you? you must take pity on your poor godmother, my littleMariette. By dint of suffering, you see, my gall has overflowed, andmy heart is like my mouth--bitter, Oh, so bitter!"

"I know that you grumble in spite of yourself sometimes, godmother--Ah, it is so easy to be always cheerful and contented when one is happy;while you have found little happiness in your life. "

"True enough, " said the old woman, feeling a sort of cruel satisfactionin justifying her embittered character by the enumeration of her wrongsagainst an implacable destiny; "true enough, many have fared as badlyas myself, but few have fared worse. Beaten in my apprenticeship, beaten by a drunken husband, crippled and ill, I have dragged my chainsfor fifty years, and none can say that I have had one happy day--onesingle happy day in my accursed life. As we say, my little Mariette, my life has been without a single Sunday, while each day is a holidayto so many. "

"Poor godmother, I can understand what you have suffered, " murmured thegirl, sympathetically. 

"No, no, you can never understand, although you have known much sorrowin your eighteen years. You are pretty, at least, and when you have anew frock, with a fresh bit of ribbon in your golden hair, you cansmile at your reflection in the mirror and feel a moment of happiness. "

"Oh, godmother! I--"

"Be frank, little one; admit that it makes you happy, and perhaps alittle proud, too, when people turn their heads to look at you, inspite of your faded gown and coarse shoes. "

"Indeed you are mistaken, godmother; it makes me blush to have any onelook at me. When I worked at the shop, there was a gentleman who cameevery day and always gazed persistently at me while talking to MadameJourdan, and it mortified me to death. "

"Yes, but at heart you were pleased; and when you are old you willremember it. You will then have something like a reflection of youryouth; while I see nothing but gloom, and don't even know if I was everyoung. But as for being ugly, I am sure of that. "

"Oh! godmother!"

"Yes, I was so ugly that I could not bear the sight of a mirror. Theconsequence was that I found nothing better than a drunken husband, whonearly killed me with blows; and I was even deprived of the chance ofrejoicing over his death, for I was obliged to pay his debts at thewine-shop. Then I became a cripple, and would starve were it not foryou. "

"You are unjust, godmother, " observed Mariette, with a tender smile, trying to dispel her melancholy. "To my knowledge, you have had onehappy day, at least, in your life. "

"Which was that?"

"The day you gave me shelter, after my mother's death. Did not thegood action give you satisfaction and make you happy for the day?"

"Well, if you call that a happy day--I want no more like it. "

"Why?"

"It was rather one of my worst days!"

"Oh! godmother!" expostulated the girl sadly. 

"Since my wretched husband's death, I had but myself to care for; butin taking charge of you, it was like being left a widow with a child tosupport. I call that anything but gay, when a woman can scarcely earnher own living. But you looked so charming with your pretty curly headand large blue eyes, and you seemed so sad kneeling beside yourmother's coffin, that I had not the heart to let them take you to theasylum. And what a dreary night I spent, wondering what I would dowith you, and what would become of you if work failed me! And you callthat a happy day? No, no! Had I been in comfortable circumstances, Iwould have felt that your future was assured and been happy. But tomerely exchange your misery for worse still was nothing to rejoiceover. "

"Well, let us say no more about days, " said Mariette soothingly, smiling through her tears, "but let us speak of moments; for I amdetermined to show that you have experienced some happiness. Now, forinstance, take this moment--"

"Well, what of it?"

"I am sure that you are happy to see that I have dried my tears, thanksto your kind words. "

The sick woman shook her head sadly. 

"Do you know what I think when I get over my bad humor?" she said, witha sigh. "Well, I think that you must hate me for my harshness andinjustice toward you. And I deserve it, too. "

"Now you are going back to your melancholy thoughts, " said the girlreproachfully. 

"Admit that I am right. It's only natural, after all. You killyourself working for me, you feed and nurse me, and I repay you withharsh words only. My death would indeed be a relief to you; and thesooner I am laid in my coffin the better. "

"I know you are jesting once more, " rejoined Mariette, making an effortto smile, though her heart was full to bursting. 

"Well, if I am only jesting, little one, don't look so grieved, "returned the old woman, touched by the girl's evident distress. "Nowput the milk on the fire, and bandage my arm while waiting for it toboil. "

Mariette was as delighted over these orders as though they had been thekindest words in the world. She hastily lighted the fire; cut up theironly remaining piece of bread into a dish of milk, placed it on thestove, and returned to the invalid. 

In spite of the repugnance which the putrid sore inspired in her, Mariette showed as much patience as dexterity in cleansing andbandaging the mutilated arm; and the young girl's devotion, as well asher noble resignation, touched the woman's heart anew. 

"Sisters of Charity are often praised, my dear, " she said admiringly, "but none of them deserve half the praise you do. "

"But those good sisters devote their time to strangers, godmother, "protested the girl modestly, "while you are like a mother to me. Ionly do my duty, and therefore have no merit. "

"Poor child, my affection for you brings you but little happiness. Only a few moments ago I made you burst into tears; and to-morrow willbe the same as to-day. "

To escape from a reply to these bitter words, Mariette brought thesteaming milk, which the invalid drank with appetite, and then busiedherself in making the bed more comfortable. 

"What will you eat, Mariette?" asked the old woman, as she swallowedthe last spoonful. 

"Oh! I have had my breakfast, " said the girl bravely. "I bought asmall loaf of rye bread this morning and ate it on my way--there, now, "giving a last shake to the pillow, "you must try to sleep, you had sucha bad night--are you more comfortable now?"

"Yes, thank you, child. "

"I shall take my work near the window; the room is dark and this isvery delicate work. "

"What is it?"

"A fine cambric chemise, godmother. Madame Jourdan trusted me with itonly after many recommendations not to lose this magnificentValencienne trimming, which alone is worth two hundred francs. Thisbrings the cost to three hundred francs apiece, and there are two dozento make. It seems they are intended for somebody's mistress, "concluded the girl naïvely. 

The invalid burst into a sardonic laugh. 

"What is it?" asked Mariette in surprise. 

"Such a funny idea. "

"Ah!" ejaculated Mariette, with a vague feeling of apprehension, forshe knew only too well the habitual character of her godmother's jests. "What idea, godmother?"

"I was asking myself of what use such people as you and I are in thisworld--wretched creatures, who know nothing but the sorrows andmiseries of life; do you know, child?"

"Indeed, godmother, I scarcely know what to say. "

"Why should a respectable girl like you, who has but two or threeragged chemises to her name, earn the paltry sum of twenty sous per daysewing chemises worth three hundred francs apiece, for--" She burstinto another bitter laugh, and turned her face to the wall, saying:"Take up your work courageously, child! I shall try to dream ofcemeteries to cheer me up!"

CHAPTER III. 

Mariette's heart was fortunately too pure, and she was, moreover, toopreoccupied with her own thoughts to feel the wretched bitterness ofthis last sarcasm. Drawing the letter she had received from her bosom, she placed it on her lap where her godmother's eyes could not reach it, and gazed longingly at it while continuing her work. 

The regular breathing of the invalid soon convinced her that she wasasleep, however, and she paused in her work long enough to tear openthe envelope and spread the letter before her eyes. Vain and puerilecuriosity! The characters were undecipherable to her! No picturecould be more sorrowful and touching than the sight of this young girl, gazing with a fast beating heart at the unintelligible missive. Onething she remarked, however; the letter was very short, and this factfilled her with hope and uneasiness both. 

Did this short, urgent letter announce good or bad news? she anxiouslyasked herself. 

With her eyes fixed on the mysterious words, Mariette lost herself inconjectures and suppositions, fully convinced that so short a letter, after a prolonged absence, must inevitably bring unexpected news. Inher poignant perplexity Mariette endured torments and excruciatingtorture, to which the uneducated are continually exposed. To hold inour grasp, and beneath our eyes, the few lines that bring us joy orsorrow, and be unable to penetrate the secret; to be under thenecessity of asking a stranger to read these lines, and to receive fromindifferent lips the announcement of something on which life itselfalmost depends, is an agony beyond words!

Mariette's anguish soon reached such a point that she resolved, at therisk of being cruelly treated on her return, to have recourse to thepublic scribe at once. Cautiously arising from her seat, that shemight not arouse the sick woman, she tiptoed softly to the door; but asshe crossed the threshold, a sudden painful thought stopped her. Shecould not ask the scribe to read the letter without dictating a reply, and she possessed barely enough money to purchase the bread necessaryfor the day. She already owed the baker twenty francs, and he hadrefused her further credit; she could not, therefore, spend her lastsou on what she considered as culpable prodigality. The reader maysmile at this picture of overwhelming grief and cruel recriminationsagainst herself _apropos_ of a couple of fifty centime pieces. Alas!no sum is small or insignificant to the poor; an increase of ten sousin wages brings back life to the starved bodies, alleviates that livingagony which leads so many to a premature grave. 

For a moment the young girl was tempted to carry Louis' letter to thejanitress; but fearing the gossip and perhaps the raillery of thewoman, she preferred to make a painful sacrifice and not expose herselfto new humiliations. She still possessed a pretty dress, bought at theTemple and altered to her figure, which she had worn only on the fewoccasions she had gone out with Louis. Taking the gown from itsaccustomed peg in the corner, she folded it into a basket with a silkfichu that was almost new, and walked cautiously to the door once more. 

"Going out again--" muttered her godmother, drowsily, as she turnedover in her bed and dropped asleep once more. 

Mariette stood motionless for a moment, then glided softly through thedoor and ran swiftly down the stairs. 

Having obtained fifty sous on the gown and fichu at the_Mont-de-Piété_, she hurried toward the _Charnier des Innocents_ inquest of the old scribe. Since Mariette's departure, and moreespecially since he had read his son's letter in the morning, the oldman had reflected with ever-growing anxiety over the obstacles he mighthave to overcome to accomplish his cherished project, in view of thesecret he had discovered during his interview with the young girl. Hewas still buried in painful meditation when Mariette suddenly appearedat the door. 

"What is it, my child?" he asked, alarmed at this unexpected return. "I did not expect to see you back so soon. "

"I have a letter from M. Louis, monsieur, " she replied, her voicequivering slightly, as she drew the missive from her bosom, "and I havecome to beg you to read it for me--and answer it if necessary. "

Trembling with uneasiness and curiosity, she gazed intently at the oldman while he glanced through the short letter, making a strong effortto conceal the annoyance given him by the few lines. Then suddenlystarting up, and feigning great indignation, he tore the letter intoshreds, crushed the pieces between his hands and hurled them under hisdesk. 

"Ah, monsieur, what have you done!" cried Mariette in dismay. 

"Ah! my poor child!" sighed the old man, looking at her pityingly. 

"My God! something has happened M. Louis!" she gasped, clasping herhands together. 

"No, my child--but you must forget him. "

"Forget him?"'

"Yes, believe me; you must renounce your cherished hopes. "

"Heavens! what has happened?"

"Ignorance is a very sad thing, my poor child; and yet, at this moment, I would pity you if you could read. "

"But, monsieur, what does the letter contain?"

"You must think no more of your marriage--"

"Does M. Louis write that?"

"Yes; he appeals to your generosity and delicacy, as well as yourkindness of heart. "

"M. Louis gives me up--and tells me to give him up also, " she saidslowly. 

"Alas! yes, poor child! Come, be brave and resigned. "

Mariette turned ghastly pale and stood silent for a moment, while bigtears rolled down her cheeky; then, falling to her knees, she gatheredthe fragments of the torn letter and placed them on the desk before theold man's eyes. 

"I shall have the courage to hear it through, " she said sadly; "replacethe pieces and read it. "

"Please don't insist, my child, I beg of you, " he rejoined, withhypocritical sympathy. 

"In mercy, read it, monsieur!"

"But--"

"However painful it may be for me to listen, I must know its contents. "

"I have already told you what it contained--spare yourself uselesspain. "

"Have pity on me, monsieur! In the name of heaven, read it--read it!I must at least know the full extent of my misfortune--and, besides, there may be one line or word of consolation. "

"Since you insist on it, my poor child, I shall read it, " said the oldman, readjusting the torn pieces, while Mariette looked on with eyesdimmed with tears, her heart throbbing with anguish. "Here it is. "

"My Dear Mariette:

"I write these few words in haste, my soul filled with the sadness ofdeath. We must renounce our hopes, for I must secure comfort and restfor my father in his old days. You know how much I love my father. Ihave given my word, and we shall never meet again. 

"One last prayer: I address myself to your delicacy of feelings andgenerosity of heart--do not attempt to see me again, or change myresolution. I must choose between you and my father; and if I see youagain I may not have the courage to do my duty as a son. My father'sfate lies in your hands, and I count on your generosity. Farewell, Ican write no more. 

"Farewell once more, Farewell forever! Louis. "

Standing motionless beside the writer's desk, with downcast eyes andthe tears rolling silently down her pale cheeks, her lips quivering andher hands clasped convulsively together, Mariette presented a fit modelfor the picture of "Despair, " as she listened to the words that crushedher heart with such cruel force. 

"There. I was sure the letter would pain you frightfully, " observedthe old man, looking up as he finished reading. 

Mariette made no reply. 

"Don't tremble so, my child, " resumed the old scribe. "Sit down--here, take this glass of fresh water. "

Mariette did not even hear; but still stood gazing fixedly at the tornletter, though she saw it but dimly through her tears. 

"It is all over, then, " she murmured brokenly. "Nothing--nothing morein this world!--I was too happy. Ah! I am like godmother; happinesswas not made for me!--"

Her voice died out in a stifled sob, and a pang of remorse smote theold man as he gazed at her white, set face. 

"My dear child, " he said soothingly, "pray don't give way to despair. "

These words recalled the young girl to herself; she wiped away hertears and, bending down, slowly gathered the pieces of the letter. 

"What are you doing?" cried the scribe, in alarm. "Why should youpreserve these fragments, which can only recall cruel souvenirs?"

"The tomb of some one we have loved, also recalls painful and cherishedsouvenirs, " said Mariette, sadly, "and yet we do not desert it. "

Having replaced the pieces in the envelope, she again thrust it in herbosom; and, drawing her thin shawl closely about her shoulders, turnedtoward the door. On the threshold, however, she paused hesitatinglyand looked back at the old man. 

"Thank you very much for your kindness, monsieur, " she said gratefully;then, after a moment's silence, she added timidly: "Although there isno answer to this letter, I feel that after so much trouble I shouldoffer you--"

"It will be ten sous, the same as a letter, " interrupted the scribe;and without the least scruple or hesitation, he pocketed theremuneration with a sort of sensual pleasure, entirely unimpaired bythe girl's wretchedness. 

"Good-bye, my poor child, " he said, "I hope we shall meet again underhappier circumstances. "

"May heaven grant it, monsieur. "

She walked slowly away, while old Richard closed the shutters of hisshop and prepared to return home. 

Haunted by the most somber thoughts, and a prey to the most poignantemotions, Mariette walked mechanically onward, unconscious ofsurroundings, and of the way she went, until startled by the sight ofthe river. 

"Fate has brought me here, " she said with a shudder. 

Crossing to the opposite side of the bridge, she leaned on the parapetand gazed at the rapid waters of the stream. Little by little, shebegan to experience that strange fascination caused by the attractionof the abyss; and as her eyes followed the swift current, she feltovertaken by a sort of vertigo and drawn more and more toward theflowing waters. 

"Here is oblivion and an end to all sorrows!" thought the unhappy girl. "It is a sure refuge against all miseries, against fear and hunger, illness and unhappy old age--wretched as that of my godmother's--Ah!what would become of her without me?--"

At that moment she felt her arm grasped violently, and a frightenedvoice cried out:

"Look out, child, or you will fall into the river!"

The girl drew back shuddering, and gazed wildly around her. 

"Do you know that you are very imprudent, to say the least of it, mychild, " said a good-natured looking woman, who stood beside her. "Youwere leaning so far over the parapet that I thought you would lose yourfooting any moment. "

"Thank you, madame, " replied Mariette, "I am very careless, indeed. "

"You must be more careful, my dear, " returned the woman warningly. "Heavens! how pale you are--are you ill?"

"I feel a little faint, madame, " said the girl, feeling a painfuldizziness come over her, "but it will pass away. "

"Lean on me, then. You are, no doubt, just recovering from a seriousillness?"

"Yes--that's it, madame, " responded Mariette, passing her hand over herbrow, "but where am I?"

"At the _Pont au Change_--Are you a stranger in Paris?" asked thewoman, curiously. 

"No, madame; but I was overcome with a strange feeling of dizziness afew moments ago. It is passing over now, and I recognize thesurroundings. "

"You had better take my arm, you are trembling so, " suggested thekind-hearted woman. 

"Thank you, madame; it's not necessary, I live only a few steps fromhere. "

"Well, good-bye, and be very cautious. "

Having recovered the entire possession of her senses, Mariette now felther bitter sorrows even more keenly than before; and she trembled atthe thought of the harsh reception that awaited her in her desolatehome, when she had so much need of consolation, or, at least, of thatisolation and sad tranquility which lulls the most intense grief intocalm hopelessness. 

Being anxious to mitigate the cruel reproaches which her prolongedabsence would inevitably draw upon her, she bethought herself of hergodmother's desire to obtain the part of a chicken, and determined tosatisfy this whim in the hope of being forgiven. She thereforehastened to the neighboring shops, purchased the quarter of a fowl andtwo white rolls with what remained of the money obtained on her gownand fichu, and turned homeward once more. 

As she neared the house she was somewhat surprised to see an elegantcabriolet before the door; but she entered without giving thecircumstance another thought, and stopping at the lodge asked for herkey. 

"Your key, Mademoiselle Mariette?" said Madame Justin, "why, agentleman has just gone up with it. "

"What gentleman?" queried the girl. 

"A decorated gentleman. And finely decorated, too, I assure you. Aribbon two good inches wide--and such a loop! Upon my word, I neversaw a man more beautifully decorated. "

"But I don't know any decorated gentleman, " exclaimed the girl inastonishment. "He must be mistaken. "

"No, indeed. He inquired for a woman named Lacombe, a cripple livingwith her goddaughter, who is a seamstress. There is no mistake, as yousee. "

"Didn't you tell him that my god-mother was ill and could see no one?"

"Yes, I did. But he said he must see her on very important and urgentbusiness; so I gave him the key and let him go up alone, having nodesire to be abused by your godmother. "

More and more astonished, Mariette ascended the rickety stairs to thefifth floor, pausing on the landing to recover her breath and find someexcuse for her long absence. The door being ajar, she caught a glimpseof a stranger within the room, and the next moment distinctly heardthese words:

"I am delighted to find your god-daughter away, my good woman; I canexplain myself more clearly without her presence. "

Mariette, who had been on the point of entering, yielded to aninvoluntary sentiment of curiosity instead, and remained where shestood. 

CHAPTER IV. 

The stranger was a man of forty-five years, or thereabouts, with wornbut regular features, bearing deep traces of excessive dissipation andthe most absolute profligacy. His physiognomy offered a strangemixture of deceit and impertinence; and these disagreeable traits werestill more emphasized by a dark heavy moustache, which shone with alustre equaled only by the false ebony of his artistically curled hair. His hands and feet were large; and, notwithstanding his visiblepretentions, he at once betrayed the vulgar personage destined, not toimitate, but to parody veritable elegance. His dress was pompous, andin exceedingly bad taste; and even Mariette could not refrain from asmile at his affected military attitude and the ridiculously large redribbon that adorned his button-hole. 

Madame Lacombe, who had once more returned to her gloomy and sardonichumor, was gazing at the stranger with as much astonishment asdistrust, feeling an almost invincible aversion against this insolentand patronizing personage, who had unceremoniously taken a seat at somedistance from the bed, and was nibbling at the gold head of his canewhile pursuing the conversation with her. 

"Yes, " repeated the visitor, "I am delighted to find you alone; as Iwas saying, I can explain myself more clearly. "

"Monsieur, " said the invalid, in a crabbed tone, "you have asked me ifmy name was Lacombe and if I was Mariette Moreau's godmother. I havealready told you _yes_. Now what do you want of me? Explain yourself. "

"To begin with, my good woman--" he began. 

"I am called Madame Lacombe!" interrupted the woman. 

"The devil! Well, then, Madame Lacombe, " resumed the stranger withmock deference, "I shall first tell you who I am, and then proceed toexplain what I want. "

"Go on. "

"I am called Commander de La Miraudière, an old military officer, asyou see, " pointing to the red ribbon on his coat, "ten campaigns andfive wounds!"

"That's nothing to me. And then?"

"I have the most brilliant acquaintances in Paris: dukes, counts, marquises--"

"What's that to me?"

"I keep a carriage, and spend at least twenty thousand francs a year. "

"While my god-daughter and myself are starving on twenty sous perday--that is, when she can earn them!" exclaimed the invalid bitterly. "Such is the justice of the world!"

"No! it is not justice!" protested the commander. "It is not just, andI am here to put an end to such injustice!"

"If you are here to laugh at me, " rejoined the woman, with an ominousscowl, "you had better go. "

"Laugh at you, madame!--I!--judge me by what I offer. Do you want apretty room, in a fine house, a servant to wait on you, two deliciousmeals every day, coffee every morning, and fifty francs a month foryour snuff or other little fancies? Eh! what do you say to that?"

"I say--I say--that it's all a lie--or else there is something beneathit. When one offers so much to a poor, crippled old woman, it is notfor the love of God, I am sure. "

"You are right, Mamma Lacombe; it's for the love of two beautiful eyes. "

"Whose eyes?"

"Your god-daughter's eyes, Mamma Lacombe, " returned Commander de LaMiraudière cynically. "No use beating around the bush, you know. "

"You know Mariette, then?" she said, with a piercing glance at hisdissipated face. 

"I often visit Madame Jourdan's establishment, for I am exceedinglyfond of fine linen, " he observed, casting a complaisant glance on theembroidered folds of his shirt. "I therefore found frequent occasionto admire you god-daughter; I think her beautiful and charming, and--"

"And you want to buy her from me?"

"Bravo! you are a woman of intelligence and good sense, Mamma Lacombe. You understand things without needless words. Now, this is myproposition: A fine, elegantly furnished apartment for Mariette, withwhom you shall live, of course; five hundred francs per month for herexpenses, exclusive of maid and cook; a suitable trousseau for thegirl; and a purse of fifty louis to begin housekeeping, not countingcostly gifts for good conduct. Besides this, there will be carriages, operas, balls, and a host of friends among ladies of my acquaintance. In a word, she will lead an enchanted existence--the existence of aduchess! What do you think of it?"

"Why not?" murmured the woman, with a strange smile. "Poor wretcheslike us are only good to sell ourselves when we are young, or sellothers when we are old. "

"Come now, Mamma Lacombe; to quiet your honest scruples, we shall saysixty francs per month for your pin money, and throw a superb shawlinto the bargain. This will enable you to appear to advantage besideMariette, whom you must watch with motherly solicitude, and never allowout of your sight, for I am jealous as a tiger, and don't like to bedeceived. "

"Only this very morning, " put in the sick woman, "I was saying toMariette, 'You are a respectable girl, and barely earn twenty sous perday sewing on chemises worth three hundred francs apiece, for a keptwoman. '"

"Chemises worth three hundred francs apiece, ordered from MadameJourdan? Let me see--ah! yes, I know. They must be for Amandine, themistress of the Marquis de Saint-Herem, my most intimate friend--Irecommended the establishment--a veritable fortune for Madame Jourdan, although that devil of a marquis seldom pays. But, on the other hand, all the furnishers and women he patronizes become the rage. Amandinewas but an obscure little shop-girl six months ago, and now she is themost fashionable woman in Paris. And Mariette may have the same luck, you know. Fancy her wearing chemises worth three hundred francsapiece, instead of sewing them! Doesn't it make you feel like burstingwith pride, Mamma Lacombe?"

"Unless Mariette ended like a girl of my acquaintance, who also soldherself through misery. "

"What happened her?"

"She was robbed. "

"Robbed?"

"She was promised mountains of gold, too; but at the end of threemonths she was deserted and left without a single sou. Then she killedherself in despair. "

"The devil! what do you take me for?" cried the visitor, haughtily. "Do I look like a swindler; a _Robert Macaire_?"

"I don't know what you are. "

"I, an old soldier! twenty campaigns and ten times wounded! Theintimate companion and friend of all the _lions_ of Paris! a man withhis own carriage and who spends twenty thousand francs per annum! Thedevil! be frank with me! Do you require securities or advances? Verywell, then; the house shall be furnished within a week and the leasesigned in your own name to-morrow, with the payment of a whole year inadvance; besides, if we come to terms, here are twenty-five to thirtylouis to bind the bargain. "

Drawing twenty-eight gold pieces from his pocket, he tossed them on thework-table beside the bed, saying: "I am not like you, Mamma Lacombe; Iam not afraid of being robbed. "

At the clinking of gold, the sick woman leaned out of her bed and casta glance of covetousness at the glittering pieces. 

In all the course of her miserable existence, she had never possessed asingle gold piece, and the sight of the scattered louis before her eyesalmost dazzled her. Grasping a few in her withered fingers, she heldthem up to the light, trying to catch the sun's rays that she mightfeast her hungry eyes on their sparkling beauty. 

"I had to show the bait to catch the old witch, " said the tempter tohimself, with a contemptuous smile. 

"At last, at last I have touched the glittering gold!" muttered the oldwoman, jingling the yellow pieces in her hand. 

"Touching them is nothing; the agreeable part of it is to spend them, Mamma Lacombe. "

"And this is enough to live in comfort for four or five months, " shewent on, piling up the coins with childish glee. 

"You and Mariette will have as much for every month of the year, if youonly say so, " said the tempter. "Yes, all this gold; do you hear? inpure, glittering gold!"

There was a long interval of silence; then, raising her sunken eyes tothe visitor, the invalid said wistfully: "You think Mariette pretty andcharming, monsieur, do you not? You are right; there is not a bettercreature in the world. Now, be generous toward her! This sum isnothing for a rich man like you--give it to us as a gift. "

"What!" gasped the astounded man. 

"Monsieur, you are good and kind, pray be charitable also, " pleaded thewoman. 

"This sum, so insignificant to you, would set us afloat once more. Wecould pay our debts, and Mariette would not be obliged to kill herselfworking. She would then find time to seek a more remunerativeposition, and we would owe you five or six months of tranquillity, ofparadise--we live on so little! Come, my good sir, do that and weshall bless your name forever--and I can say that I was happy once inmy life. "

The request was so naïve, the tone so sincere and earnest that thedecorated visitor was more hurt than surprised at this proposition. Hecould neither understand nor believe that a human being could be stupidenough to seriously make such a request to a man of his stamp. 

"This is anything but flattering, " he muttered to himself; "the oldwitch must take me for a young duckling ready to be plucked. "

"The devil! Mamma Lacombe, " he added aloud, bursting into a sneeringlaugh, "do you take me for a philanthropist, the inspector ofcharitable institutions, or a candidate for the Montyon prize? Tut, tut, you will rot in your bed before you receive charitable gifts ofsix hundred francs, redeemable in blessings and grateful thanks, mygood woman! Bless my stars, I am not a bank of that sort!"

The sick woman had yielded to one of those wild, sudden hopes, whichsometimes sway the most distrustful beings, and even the most hardenedvictims of implacable destiny. But the withering scorn it had broughtupon her aroused all her ire and bitterness of heart. 

"Pardon me, Monsieur, if I have insulted you!" she rejoined, with herhabitual sardonic laugh. 

"I am not offended, Mamma Lacombe, " he returned magnanimously; "but letus come to the point. Shall I, yes or no, re-pocket these beautifullouis, which you take so much pleasure in handling?"

He stretched his hand toward the gold pieces, but she thrust it awaywith an instinctive movement and drew the shining coins nearer to her. 

"One moment, " she said hoarsely, her eyes glittering with cupidity intheir deep orbits, "I shall not eat your gold!"

"That is just what I am urging you to do, Mamma Lacombe; I want you toeat that gold, on condition--"

"I know Mariette, " she interrupted, her wistful gaze still fixed on thegold, "she will never consent. "

"Nonsense!"

"I tell you she is an upright girl. She might, like many others, yieldto a man she loved; but to you--never! She would refuse, I am sure. You may laugh, but she has ideas of her own. "

"Granted, my good woman. I believe in Mariette's good principles, forMadame Jourdan has known her many years and she has full confidence inher. "

"Well, then?"

"Well, I also know, Mamma Lacombe, that you possess great influenceover her and that she fears you like the devil himself--so MadameJourdan informed me. Now, you can induce, or, it need be, compelMariette to accept happiness! For, after all, you are lodged likebeggars and starving to death. Besides, if you refuse, do you knowwhat will happen? The girl, with her fine sentiments ofdisinterestedness, will, sooner or later, become the victim of someunscrupulous rascal as poor as herself. "

"That may be, but she will not have sold her soul. "

"Tut, tut, tut, those are mere phrases. Some fine day, this lover ofher choice will probably desert her; then, to save herself fromstarvation, she will end like the rest--mark my word. "

"Yes, that may be, " she repeated, with a dismal moan. "Hunger is a badcounselor, when we and our children have known its pangs. And how manyof those poor, unhappy girls might be saved with this gold! And ifMariette were destined to end like them--would it not be better toyield now?"

For a few moments, the most varied emotions were depicted on the pale, emaciated features of the unhappy, crippled creature. With eyes stillfixed hungrily on the glittering pieces, she strove to calm thestruggle waged between misery and virtue in her heart; then, by adesperate effort, she closed her eyes as if to escape the fascinationof the gold, and sank back wearily on her wretched pallet. 

"Go, and leave me in peace!" she said feebly, as if exhausted by theviolent conflict. 

"What! you refuse?" he cried in amazement. 

"Yes. "

"Positively refuse?"

"Yes. "

"Very well, I shall take back my gold, " he rejoined, slowly picking upthe louis and jingling them together. "I shall refill my pockets withthe glittering yellow coins. "

"The devil take you and your gold!" cried the exasperated woman. "Takeit, and go! I have not sheltered Mariette all these years to sell her, body and soul. Rather than eat such bread, I would build a charcoalfire and make on end to us both. "

At these words Mariette entered, pale and indignant, her cheeks bathedin tears and her eyes flashing with anger and scorn. 

"Ah! god-mother, " she cried, throwing her arms around the woman's neck, "I knew that you loved me as a daughter!" Then turning towardCommander de La Miraudière, whom she recognized as the man whosepersistent gaze had so frequently annoyed her at Madame Jourdan'sestablishment, she added with withering scorn: "Go, this moment, monsieur!"

"But, my dear little dove--" he began. 

"I was there at the door, monsieur, and heard all, " she interruptedquickly. 

"So much the better then, my dear. You know my offer; you are still atliberty to accept it. "

"Once more, monsieur, I beg you to go out. "

"There, there, I am going my little Lucretia! But I give you a weekfor reflection, " said the visitor, as he moved toward the door, Pausingon the threshold, however, he added:

"Don't forget my name, my dear--Commander de La Miraudière. MadameJourdan has my address, " and he vanished with these words. 

"Ah! godmother, " cried the girl, kissing the sick woman with neweffusion, "how warmly you defended me! how your heart spoke for me!"

"Yes, yes, " muttered the invalid, roughly disengaging herself from thegirl's embrace, "and with those fine principles we starve instead ofrolling in luxury. "

"But, my dear godmother--" Mariette tried to protest. 

"There, there, it's all said and done now, " cried the womanimpatiently. "I have done my duty, and you have done yours--and it'ssmall good it will do either of us, you may count on that!"

"But godmother, listen to me--"

"And if some fine morning we are both found dead with a charcoal firebetween us, we shall only have done our duty once more. Ha! ha! ha!--"and with this grim laugh, this unhappy creature, so pursued andexasperated by wretchedness and misfortune, cut short the conversationby turning her face to the wall. 

Mariette silently brought in the basket containing her purchases, arranged the supper on the table near the bed, and quietly withdrew tothe narrow window through which filtered the deepening twilight. Thendrawing the torn fragments of Louis' letter from her bosom, she gazedat them sadly, and sank back into grim despair. 

 * * * * * *

In the meantime, Commander de La Miraudière had reached the street andwas rolling away rapidly in his dashing cabriolet. 

"Bah! this is only a first rebuff, " he was saying complacently tohimself; "the girl will reflect, and that old schemer will think betterof it. Her round eyes fairly blinked at the sight of my gold; itdazzled her like the noonday sun. Besides, their abject misery willplead in my favor, and I have no reason to despair. Two months of fatliving will suffice to make the girl the prettiest woman in Paris; andshe will do me credit at very small cost. But I must think of businessnow; I have made a precious discovery. "

Having reached the Rue Grenelle-Saint-Honoré, he stopped his horsebefore a house of modest appearance and alighted. 

"Does M. Richard reside here?" he inquired of the concierge. 

"Yes, monsieur, both the father and son live here, " replied the man. 

"I want to speak to the son, M. Louis Richard; is he at home?"

"He has just arrived in Paris; you will find him with his father. "

"I must see him alone. "

"That's rather difficult, as they have but one room between them. "

The commander drew a card from his pocket, and wrote the followingwords above his own name: "Will expect M. Louis Richard at my home, between nine and ten o'clock tomorrow morning, to communicate somethingof grave importance, which admits of no delay. "

"My dear fellow, " he said, addressing the concierge, when he hadreplaced his pencil, "here are forty sous for a _pourboire_. "

"Thank you, monsieur, " rejoined the man, pocketing the money; "but whatdo you expect me to do for it?"

"Remit this card to M. Louis Richard. "

"Nothing difficult about that. "

"It must be given him to-morrow morning as he goes out, and without hisfather's knowledge; do you understand?"

"Perfectly. It can be easily done, as M. Louis goes to his studies atseven o'clock, while old Richard leaves only at nine for his writingoffice. "

"I may count on you then?" said the commander, leaping into thecabriolet. 

"Consider it done, monsieur, " was the reassuring reply. 

The carriage had scarcely vanished when the postman appeared with aletter addressed to M. Louis Richard. It was Mariette's missive, whichthe old scribe had addressed Rue de Grenelle, Paris, instead of Dreux, according to the girl's request. 

CHAPTER V. 

Old Richard and his son jointly occupied a dreary room on the fifthfloor of a dilapidated house, which might have made a fit adjunct tothe home of Mariette and her god-mother. The same wretchedness, thesame destitution was visible everywhere. A thin mattress in one cornerfor the father, a straw bed in the other for the son, a mouldy table, afew chairs and an old wardrobe, composed the entire furniture of thedingy apartment. 

On his way homeward, the public scribe had purchased his supper and wasnow laying the frugal meal on the table; an appetizing slice of ham, placed carefully on a piece of white paper that served as a plate, anda four-pound loaf of bread, the remains of which were to serve asbreakfast the next morning. Add to this a bottle of fresh water, standing opposite a thin candle that scarcely dissipated the gloom ofthe room, and the picture of wretchedness was complete. 

Louis Richard was a young man of about twenty-five years, with a frank, open countenance, expressive of gentleness and intelligence, and anatural grace which his shabby, worn-out clothes could not conceal. Ashe dropped his modest traveling bag to the floor and embraced hisfather, whom he fairly worshipped, the happiness of being near him oncemore and the certainty of seeing Mariette the next day, made his faceperfectly radiant with joy. 

"And so you made a good voyage, my son, " observed the old man, hisdelight over the young man's return somewhat dampened by the uneasinesshe felt concerning his cherished projects for the future and theremembrance of the events of the day. 

"Excellent, father!" returned Louis. 

"I am glad to hear it, my boy, and--but will you have some dinner? Wecan talk while eating. "

"Will I have some dinner? Well, I should say so! I did not share themeals of the other travelers, and for the best of reasons, " laughed theyoung man gaily, slapping his empty wallet. 

"Upon my word, you lost but little, my son, " rejoined the father, cutting the slice of ham into two unequal pieces and giving the largestto the young man, "those hotel dinners are expensive and not worthmuch!"

Having offered Louis a formidable piece of bread, the old man helpedhimself to a crust, and both father and son bravely attacked the meagermeal, with robust appetites, sprinkling it plentifully with gloriousdraughts of clear water. 

"Tell me all about your journey now, my boy, " resumed the old man, whenhe had satisfied the first pangs of hunger. 

"Really, father, there is not much to tell, " remarked Louis. "Thenotary had given me copies of several deeds, which M. Ramon was toread. Well, he read and studied them most leisurely, taking five wholedays! after which the said papers were given back to me, profuselyannotated by that wary parsonage, and--thank heaven--here I am at last!"

"Thank heaven?--can it be that you were lonely at Dreux?" queried theold man, looking up anxiously. 

"I was bored to death, my dear father. "

"What kind of a man must this M. Ramon be, that you were so displeased?"

"The very worst kind in the world--a miser. "

"Hum! hum!" coughed the old man, as if swallowing a disagreeable dose. "So he is a miser? He must be rich then?"

"I don't know, but one may be as avaricious with a small fortune aswith a great one; and if we are to measure M. Ramon's wealth by hisparsimony, he must be a triple millionaire--such a wretched old miser!"continued Louis, contemptuously, biting into his bread with a sort offrenzy. 

"Had you been brought up in luxury and abundance, I might understandyour recriminations against this old miser--as you call him, " rejoinedold Richard, testily, "but we have always lived in such poverty that, however miserly M. Ramon may be, you must have found but littledifference between his manner of existence and our own. "

"But you don't understand me, father. M. Ramon keeps two servants, andwe have none; he occupies a whole house and we live in one attic room;he has three or four dishes for his dinner, while we eat anything wemay chance to have. And yet, we live a hundred times better than thisgreedy personage!"

"I really don't understand you, my child, " returned the father, moreand more annoyed at his son's opinion of his late host. "There cancertainly be no comparison between that gentleman's luxury and ourpoverty. "

"My dear father, we are veritably poor, at least! We cheerfully endureour privations; and if in my days of ambition, I have sometimes dreamedof a more comfortable existence, it was not for myself, you may restassured, for I am perfectly satisfied with my fate. "

"I know your kind heart, my dear boy, as well as your love for me; andmy only consolation in our poverty is to know that you do not complainof your condition. "

"Complain! do you not share it with me? and then, after all, what morecould we want?"

"We might want a little more comfort. "

"Upon my word, I don't see it in that light, father. We don't eatstuffed chicken, it is true; but we eat all we want and withappetite--witness this empty paper and the disappearance of thefour-pound loaf between us. Our clothes are shabby and worn, but theyare warm; our room is up five nights of stairs, but it shelters us; weearn from sixteen to eighteen hundred francs per annum between us--thesum is not enormous, but it suffices; we have no debts! Ah! my dearfather, may heaven never send us worse days, and I shall nevercomplain. "

"My dear boy, I cannot tell you how happy it makes me to hear you speakthus, and to see you accept your fate so bravely. Tell me thetruth--have you--have you always been happy?"

"Very happy. "

"Truly?"

"Why should I try to deceive you? Now, my dear father, have you everseen me gloomy or thoughtful? do I look like a discontented person?"

"You are endowed with such an excellent character!"

"Oh, that depends on circumstances! If, for instance, I were obligedto live with M. Ramon, that abominable griping miser, I shouldcertainly become unbearable, unmanageable and frantic!"

"What can you have against that poor man?"

"All the ferocious resentment and rancour gathered during five days oftorture!"

"Torture?"

"What else can it be, to inhabit a large dilapidated house, so empty, so cold and gloomy, that a tomb would be a cheerful dwelling incomparison? And then, to see the two wan, emaciated servants comingand going like shadows in this sepulchre; to assist at those meals--andwhat meals, great heavens!--where the master of the house seems tocount the bites you swallow! And such a daughter!--for the wretch hasa daughter, alas! and, his race may perhaps be perpetuated. It is shewho lays aside the servants' insufficient shares and puts the remainsof the meager meal under lock and key! All I can say is that, notwithstanding my usual good appetite, five minutes at that tablesufficed to disgust me. For one is either one thing or the other; ifrich, avarice is contemptible; if poor, it is stupid to attempt anydisplay. "

"My dear Louis, I find you strangely hostile to this poor man and hisdaughter--you who are always so kind and benevolent!"

"His daughter! do you call that a daughter?"

"What in the devil do you mean! do you take her for a monster?"

"I don't take her for a woman. "

"My dear boy, you must have taken leave of your senses!"

"But, my dear father, what would, you call a tall, dry creature, growling and snarling, with hands and feet like a man, a face like anut-cracker, and a nose--great heavens, what a nose!--as long as thisknife, and red as a brick! But to be just, I must admit that thisincomparable creature has yellow hair and black teeth. "

"The portrait is not flattering; but all women cannot be equallybeautiful. A kind heart is often better than a pretty face; and as forme, ugliness has always inspired me with pity. "

"I will say that I was much inclined to pity her when I saw herdisagreeable face at first, especially as she was condemned to livewith a man as greedy as her father; but when I saw that red-nosedcreature eternally nagging and growling at those two unhappy servants, measure their food, and rival with her father in avarice, my firstimpulse of compassion was immediately turned to aversion for thatwicked red-nose. Notwithstanding my good nature, I felt a strongtemptation to contradict and annoy this red-nose; but, fearing tocompromise my employer's interests, I kept my peace and swallowed myrancour. "

"And you are relieving your mind with a vengeance. 

"Ah! what a relief, after five long days of that red-nose!"

"You are painfully prejudiced, my son; I would wager that this lady, who appears so miserly and detestable in your eyes, is merely a womanof firm character and economical habits. "

"Well, it matters little to me what she is! Only, I must say, thereseems to exist singular contrasts in certain families. "

"What do you mean?"

"Imagine my surprise in discovering in one of the rooms of this dullhouse, the portrait of a woman so beautiful, charming and distingué, that it seemed placed there expressly to continually mock and scoff atthat wicked red nose. The portrait so closely resembled one of my oldclass-mates, that I could not refrain from questioning the old miserabout it. He then gruffly informed me that the original was hissister, Madame de Saint-Herem, who died some years since. But youwould have died laughing had you seen them when I asked if she had lefta son. "

"Well, what did they do?"

"At the name of young Saint-Herem you would have thought I had evokedthe devil. Red-nose grew fiery and fairly glowed; while her worthyfather admitted, with a withering glance at me, that he had themisfortune, in fact, to be the uncle of an infernal young bandit knownas Saint-Herem. "

"This young man must bear a very bad reputation. "

"Florestan?--why, he is the noblest and most charming fellow in theworld!"

"But his uncle tells you--"

"My dear father, Saint-Herem and myself were close friends at college, and you must judge of him by what I shall relate. I had lost sight ofhim for years, when, as I was passing along the boulevard six monthsago, I saw everybody turn to look at something on the road, and I didlikewise. I then perceived two magnificent horses harnessed to aphaeton, with two tiny domestics behind. This equipage was so elegantand rich that it attracted general attention--and who do you supposewas seated in that carriage? My old classmate Saint-Herem, morebrilliant and handsome than ever!"

"It seems to me he must be a reckless spendthrift. "

"Wait till I have finished my story, father. The equipage stoppedabruptly, and while the two little pages alighted from their seats tohold the horses by the bridles, Saint-Herem leaped from the carriage, ran toward me, and fairly embraced me in his joy to find me again afterso long a separation. I was dressed like a poor devil of a notarystudent, as I am; with my maroon redingote, my black trousers and lacedshoes. You must admit that many _lions of society_ would have shrunkfrom the public recognition of a fellow as shabbily dressed as yourhumble servant. Florestan was so delighted to see me, however, that hepaid no heed to my clothes. As for me, I was very happy and almostashamed of this proof of friendship; for we presented such a contrastthat everybody stared at us. Noticing the attention we attracted, myfriend asked me where I was going and proposed to take me to my office, saying it would give us more time to talk. 'What, ' I protested, 'enteryour beautiful carriage with my umbrella, my shabby coat and coarseshoes!' Florestan shrugged his shoulders, took me by the arm, and ledme to the carriage in spite of my remonstrances; and when he left me atthe office he made me promise to call on him at his apartments. "

"Bah!" ejaculated the old man contemptuously; "it was merely the resultof a first impulse. I always distrust people who make extravagantdisplays; and, besides, you are not in a position to mix with _societylions_. "

"And yet I had to keep my word and breakfast with him one Sunday. Hereceived me like a prince and welcomed me like a friend. Shortlyafterward, however, he left Paris, and I have not seen him since. "

"How strange that you never told me of this breakfast, Louis!"

"I feared that in your tender solicitude for me you might imagine thatthe sight of Florestan's luxury was capable of turning my head anddisgust me with my poor condition. The suspicion I knew would grieveyou, and I therefore resolved to conceal the fact that once in my lifeI had breakfasted in the style of a Sardanapalus or a Lucullus!"

"I understand the delicacy of your conduct, and am deeply touched byit, my boy, " said the old man, with emotion; "it is another proof ofyour goodness and generosity of heart. But listen to me, my son, forit is to your kind heart and affection for me that I address myself. "

"What is it?"

"It is something very grave and serious; not only for you, but for mealso. "

The old man's expression was so solemn as he uttered the last words, that the son looked up in surprise. 

There was a knock at the door at that moment, and the conciergeentered, saying, "Here is a letter for you, Monsieur Louis. "

"Very well, " said the young man, taking the letter absent-mindedly, hiswhole attention centered on the grave subject just announced by hisfather. 

"If you should go out this evening, Monsieur Louis, " added the man, ashe moved away, "don't forget to stop at my lodge; I have something tosay to you. "

"Very well, " replied Louis carelessly, as the man vanished. 

Old Richard had recognized Mariette's letter at a first glance, and fora moment he was tempted to allow Louis to read it at once; but onfurther reflection he resolved to delay the blow. 

"My dear boy, " he remarked, "you will have plenty of time to read yourletter later, and I want you to listen to me just now, for the subjectis of the highest importance to us both. "

"I am at your service, father, " replied Louis, laying the letter on thetable. 

CHAPTER VI. 

"As I have already said, " observed old Richard, after a moment ofsilence, "I shall appeal to your kind heart and affection for me. 

"You have but to speak, then, my father, " rejoined the young mandutifully. 

"You declared a few moments ago that if you sometimes dreamed of a moreluxurious existence, it was not for yourself, being entirely satisfiedwith your humble condition, but for me. "

"And I repeat it!"

"Well, my child, the realization of your wish depends on yourself only. "

"What do you mean?"

"Listen to me. Reverses of fortune, which closely followed yourmother's death, while you were still a child, robbed me of nearly all Ipossessed, leaving me barely enough to provide for your education. When this was all spent I was forced to open a bureau as publicscribe--"

"True, my good, kind father, " said the young man, with emotion; "andseeing with what courage and resignation you endured ill-fortune, myaffection and veneration for you augmented to a degree that fallslittle short of worship. "

"This ill-fortune may pursue us, my child; I am growing old, my sightis dimmed, and I foresee the sad day when it shall become impossiblefor me to earn our daily bread. "

"My father, rely on--"

"On you? You will do your best, I know, but your own future isprecarious. You shall never be more than first or second clerk, for itrequires money to buy out a notary's office, and I am poor. "

"Don't be alarmed, I shall always earn enough for both. "

"You are counting without illness or the force of events. How manyunexpected circumstances may reduce you to idleness for months! Andthen how should we live?"

"But, my dear father, if we poor people anticipated all the trouble wemay be threatened with, we should certainly lose courage. Let us closeour eyes to the future, and think of the present only. Thank God!there is nothing to frighten us in that. "

"When the future is threatening, it is assuredly wiser to turn the eyesaway; but when it may be happy and smiling, it is better to face it!"

"I don't deny that. "

"Well, I repeat it, our future lies in your hands; it depends entirelyon you to make it happy and assured. "

"Then it is done. Only tell me how?"

"I shall astonish you greatly. That poor M. Ramon, with whom you havejust spent a few days and whom you judge so harshly, is an old friendof mine. "

"He, your friend?"

"Your visit to Dreux was arranged beforehand between us. "

"But those deeds--"

"Your employer obligingly consented to aid us in our little ruse, byentrusting you with valueless papers. "

"But what was your purpose?"

"Ramon wanted to observe and study your character without yourknowledge, and he assures me he is quite enchanted with you. Ireceived a long letter from him this morning, in which he speaks of youis the highest terms. "

"I regret my inability to return the compliment; but why should itmatter to me whether he thinks well or ill of me?"

"It matters very much, indeed, my boy; for the happy future of which Ispoke depends entirely on Ramon's opinion of you. "

"This is an enigma to me. "

"Although not exactly rich, Ramon possesses a modest fortune, augmentedeach day by his economies. "

"Humph! I believe that. But what you charitably term economy issordid avarice, and nothing else. "

"Call it what you will; we shall not bandy words about it. Owing tothis avarice, however, Ramon will leave a snug fortune after him--I sayafter him, because he gives nothing away during his life-time. "

"I am not surprised at that. But I really cannot understand what youare leading to, father!"

"I feel some hesitation in pursuing; for however false and unjust firstimpressions may be, they are exceedingly tenacious--and you judgedMademoiselle Ramon so severely--"

"_Red-nose_! Say rather that I was very indulgent!"

"You will overcome these prejudices, I am sure. Believe me, Mademoiselle Ramon is one of those persons who improve on betteracquaintance. She is a woman of firm character and exemplary virtues. What more can be desired in the mother of a family?"

"The mother of a family!" gasped Louis, who until now had not suspectedthe danger that threatened him, but was beginning to conceive a vaguefear. "The mother of a family!" he repeated in dismay, "and whatmatters it to me whether Mademoiselle Ramon is or is not fitted tobecome a good mother?"

"It matters more to you than to anyone else. "

"To me?"

"Certainly. "

"And why, pray?"

"Because my most cherished, and only desire is, to see you marryMademoiselle Ramon, " declared the old man, resolutely. 

"Marry--Mademoiselle Ramon!" cried Louis, aghast, shrinking back in hischair as if the red-nosed spinster had suddenly appeared before him. "I--marry?--"

"Yes, my child, " rejoined old Richard, in his most affectionate tone, "marry Mademoiselle Ramon, and our future is assured. We shall live atDreux; Ramon's house is sufficiently large for us all. He gives hisdaughter no dowry; but we shall live in his home, and his influencewill obtain a position for you. At the death of your father-in-law, you will inherit a snug fortune--Louis, my beloved son, " concluded theold man, beseechingly, grasping the young man's hands in his, "consentto this marriage and you will make me the happiest man in the world;for I can then die without anxiety for your future. "

"Ah! my father, you don't realize what you ask!" rejoined Louisreproachfully. 

"You may say that you feel no love for Mademoiselle Ramon, but mutualesteem is sufficient in marriage; and you must admit that she isdeserving of that esteem. As to her father, I can understand that youmay have been shocked at what you term _his avarice_; but this willseem less odious to you when you reflect that you shall one day enjoythe benefits of this economy. At heart, Ramon is an excellent man. His only ambition is to leave a small fortune to his daughter and herhusband; and to attain this aim, he practices the strictest economy. Do you call that a crime? Come, my child, give me one word of hope!"

"Father, " said the young man, in a constrained voice, "it grieves me todisappoint you in your projects, but what you ask is impossible. "

"Louis, can you really answer thus, when I appeal to your affection forme?"

"To begin with, this marriage will bring you no personal advantage; youthink of me only. "

"What! do you call it no advantage to live in his house withoutspending a sou? I tell you it is all arranged; he is to board usgratuitously, instead of giving his daughter a dowry. "

"Father, as long as there remains a drop of blood in my veins, youshall receive charity from no one! I have already begged you manytimes to give up your occupation, pledging myself to provide for both--"

"But, if you were taken ill, my child, I should be forced to seekadmittance into the alms-house!"

"I shall not be ill, and you will want for nothing; but if I had themisfortune to be that detestable creature's husband, I should die ofgrief. "

"Yon cannot be serious, my son. "

"Perfectly serious, father. In your blind affection for me you soughtto contract an advantageous union, and I am deeply grateful for yourkind solicitude--but let us dismiss the subject; as I have alreadysaid, this marriage is impossible. "

"Louis!"

"I shall always feel an invincible aversion toward Mademoiselle Ramon, and besides, I love a young girl, and she alone shall be my wife. "

"Ah! my son, I believed I enjoyed your full confidence, and yet youformed this grave resolution without consulting me!"

"I was silent on the subject because the young girl and myself agreedto wait a whole year before speaking of marriage, that we might be surewe had not mistaken a passing fancy for a real passion. Thank heaven!our love has resisted all trials. The time of probation expires thisvery day, and to-morrow we shall fix the wedding day. The young girl Ilove is as poor as ourselves, but she possesses the noblest heart inthe world. Never will you find a more devoted daughter, and I shalldouble in zeal and energy to make life agreeable to you. Believe me, nothing is more painful to me than to disagree with you, and I beg youto spare me the pain of another refusal. Do not insist on this union, for I shall never resign myself to it, and I swear by my affection foryou that I shall have no other wife than Mariette Moreau. "

The young man uttered these last words so firmly that the fatherdecided not to insist at that moment, but merely said in a grieved tone:

"I cannot believe, Louis, that all the reasons I have pleaded in favorof this marriage can be without value in your eyes. I have moreconfidence in your heart than you seem to have yourself, and I am surethat reflection will bring you to a wiser decision. "

"I shall not change my mind. "

"I shall insist no further on the subject, but leave you to yourreflections. I give you twenty-four hours to come to a definiteresolution. Until then, I shall not say a word of this marriage, and Ibeg of you, on your side, not to trouble me with your love affairs. "

"Very well, father; but I assure you that delay--"

"Not a word more on the subject, " interrupted the old man, rising. 

As he silently paced the room, he cast furtive glances on his son, whowas thoughtfully gazing at the letter before him, with his head leaningon his hands, and his elbows supported by the table. 

CHAPTER VII. 

Having contemplated the letter in silence for some time, withoutrecognizing the writing, Louis mechanically tore it open, while oldRichard still continued his tireless pacing, closely observing hisevery movement. 

Suddenly he saw him turn ghastly pale, brush his hand over his brow, asif to assure himself he was not the victim of an illusion, then readthe letter once more, with ever-growing anguish expressed on hisfeatures. 

The letter, written that morning by old Richard, in a disguised hand, ran as follows:

"Monsieur Louis:

"I take advantage of your absence to make a confession which I havepostponed for two whole months, because I feared to cause you grief. We must renounce our projects of marriage and never see each otheragain. 

"I cannot explain the cause of this change; but, believe me, myresolution is well taken. If I have waited until this day, the _sixthof May_, to tell you this, it was because I wanted ample time forreflection before announcing my determination. 

"Farewell, Monsieur Louis; do not try to see me; it would be uselessand cause us needless pain. If, on the contrary, you forget meentirely and make no attempt to see me, my happiness, as well as thatof my god-mother will be assured. 

"It is therefore in the name of our happiness and tranquillity that Iask you not to seek me. 

"You possess such a kind heart that I am sure you will make no attemptto grieve me, by insisting on an explanation. I swear that all is overbetween us and that I love you as a friend only. MARIETTE MOREAU. "

"P. S. Instead of sending this letter to Dreux, as you instructed meto do, I address it to Paris, that you may find it on your return. Augustine has gone to the country, so another person writes this for me. 

"I have forgotten to say that my godmother's condition is still thesame. "

The reading of this letter plunged Louis into a hopeless stupor. Theingenuity of the style, the correctness of details, the emphasis on thedate, all convinced him that the lines must have been dictated byMariette. Having vainly tried to understand the cause of this abruptrupture, he felt his heart invaded with mingled grief, anger, resentment, and a deep sentiment of wounded pride. 

"Indeed, I shall never attempt to see her again, " he murmured, unconscious that he spoke aloud. "She has no need to insist on thatpoint with so much obstinacy!"

These words were a relief to the old man, who was closely watching theeffects of his stratagem, while apparently absorbed in his ownreflections. 

But grief soon took the ascendancy over anger in the young man's heart, and his love re-awakened more tender and more passionate than ever; hetried to recall the most trifling details of his last interview withMariette, questioned his memory in regard to the last few months oftheir friendship, but could find no trace of growing coldness in theirrelations. The young girl, on the contrary had never seemed moreloving, more devoted, or more impatient to unite her life to his. Andall these appearances had lied; Mariette was a monster of deceit--shewhom he had always believed so pure and candid!

No, he could not accept this in silence! He could no longer enduresuch anguish, without making one effort to unveil the mystery thatsurrounded Mariette's conduct! The atmosphere of the room stifled him, and he resolved to seek the girl at once and force an explanation fromher lips, even at the risk of prejudicing his cause with Mariette'sgodmother, who was also in ignorance of their love. 

Alarmed at the varied emotions reflected on his son's face, old Richardthought it time to interfere. 

"My dear Louis, " he said, closely scrutinizing the young man's troubledface, "I believe we had better start for Dreux early tomorrow morning, thereby anticipating Ramon's visit to us by twenty-four hours. "

"Father!" began Louis, in protestation. 

"It will not compromise you, in the least, my son, and if you areresolved to deny me the dearest wish of my life, all I ask, as a lastsatisfaction, is to spend a few days with Ramon and his daughter. Youshall then be free to act as you please. " Then seeing Louis take uphis hat, he asked anxiously: "Where are you going?"

"My head aches, and I am going out for a whiff of fresh air, " repliedthe young man. 

"In mercy don't go out, my boy!" cried the old man, with growing alarm. "You look gloomy and out of sorts since you read that letter. Really, you frighten me!"

"You are mistaken. The letter was absolutely insignificant, I assureyou, " returned Louis, closing the door behind him. 

As he was rushing out, however, the concierge hailed him and invitedhim to enter the lodge. 

"What is it?" asked Louis, struck by the man's mysterious air. 

"Here is a card left for you by a decorated gentleman, " explained theconcierge. "He came in an elegant carriage, and said this was urgent. "

Taking the card, Louis approached the light and read:

"_Commander de La Miraudière_, "_17 Rue du Mont-Blanc_. 

"_Will expect M. Louis Richard at my home, between nine and ten o'clockto-morrow morning, to communicate something of grave importance, whichadmits of no delay. _"

"Commander de La Miraudière? I never heard the name, " said Louis, gazing curiously at the card; then, as he mechanically turned it over, his eyes caught sight of these words in pencil:

"_Mariette Moreau, with Madame Lacombe, Rue desPrêtres-Saint-Germain-l'Auxerrois. _"

The commander had noted Mariette's address on the back of his card, andunconsciously used the same in writing to Louis to request an interview. 

Much astonished and perplexed, the young man vainly asked himself whatrelation could exist between this stranger, whose card he held, andMariette. 

"Did the gentleman leave any other message?" he asked the concierge. "Did he say anything?"

"Nothing, except that I was to give you the card without your father'sknowledge. "

"Strange, " murmured the young man. 

"He even gave me forty sous, to make sure I would do the errand. "

"Was he young or old?"

"A very handsome man, wearing the ribbon, with a mustache andside-whiskers black as ink, and dressed like a prince, not counting hiselegant cabriolet. "

Louis went out more perplexed than ever. This new incident redoubledhis anguish; by dint of seeking Mariette's motive for this abruptrupture, he was beginning to feel the sharp pangs of jealousy. Onceunder this influence, the wildest suspicions and most chimerical fearsassumed the appearance of reality to his eyes; and he finally askedhimself if this stranger might not be a rival. How else was he toexplain Mariette's relations with a young and handsome young man?

In her letter to him, Mariette begged him not to seek her, as it mightcompromise her own and her god-mother's happiness. He well knew thewretched position of the two women, and Mariette had often confided tohim the trials she was forced to endure through her god-mother's gloomyand harsh character. A horrible thought now flashed through his head. Had not Mariette, perhaps, been driven by misery and the threats of hergod-mother to listen to the brilliant propositions of this man, whosecard he now held in his hand? But, in that case, why should thisstranger request an interview? The mystery seemed as impenetrable asever. 

Once launched in the dizzy path of jealousy, lovers invariably givefull sway to their imaginations and entertain the wildest ideas. Louiswas no exception to the rule. In supposing himself supplanted by arival, he found the key to what seemed inexplicable in Mariette'sletter and in her conduct. He therefore tenaciously clung to thebelief of her infidelity, longing for the moment when he might demandan explanation from this audacious commander. 

He now abandoned his first resolution of seeing Mariette, and retracedhis steps homeward in a state of deep agitation and painful excitement. It was midnight when he again entered their dreary room. His fatherwas anxiously waiting for him; but one glance at his son's gloomycountenance reassured the old man. Feeling certain that the lovers hadnot met and that his stratagem was still undiscovered, he againproposed a visit to Dreux on the following day; but Louis threw himselfdejectedly on his bed, declaring he must have time for reflectionbefore taking such a grave step. 

After a night of sleepless agony, the young man rose at dawn andquietly slipped out of the room, glad to escape his father'squestioning for a few hours. With his mind tortured by anxiety andmisgivings, he turned toward the boulevard to await the hour fixed forhis interview with Commander de La Miraudière. 

CHAPTER VIII. 

Enveloped in a magnificent dressing gown, his feet encased inembroidered slippers, and a fragrant cigar between his lips, Commanderde La Miraudière was quietly seated at his desk, with a stack of notesand papers before him, when a servant entered and announced: "M. Richard. "

"Usher M. Richard into the drawing-room, and beg him to wait a moment, "he said, rising quickly. "You may bring him in when I ring. "

The servant withdrew, while his master opened a drawer in the safe nearby, took out twenty-five notes of a thousand francs each, and, placingthem beside a sheet of stamped paper used in making out deeds, rang thebell. 

Louis Richard entered, looking gloomy and confused. His heart throbbedviolently at the thought that he was perhaps standing in the presenceof a happy rival, and like all sincere and candid lovers, he greatlyexaggerated the advantages possessed by the man whom he believed hadsupplanted him in the heart of the woman he loved. This Commander deLa Miraudière, draped in his superb damask gown, and occupyingmagnificent apartments, seemed a most formidable rival, indeed, topoor, modest Louis Richard. 

"Have I the honor of addressing Monsieur Louis Richard?" said M. De LaMiraudière, with his most gracious smile. 

"Yes, monsieur, " replied Louis, simply. 

"Only son of M. Richard, public scribe?"

"My father is a public scribe, " returned the young man dryly, believinghe detected a slight tone of sarcasm in the last words. 

"Pardon me for disturbing you, " continued the commander, "but it wasnecessary that I should see you alone. As a private interview seemedimpossible in your own home, I requested you to come to me. "

"And now that I am here, may I inquire what your wishes are?"

"My only wish is to serve you, my dear sir, for I would be only toohappy to class you as my client. "

"I!--your client? But who are you, monsieur?"

"An old soldier, retired commander, twenty campaigns, ten wounds, and abusiness man, to while away the hours. I hob-nob with the bigcapitalists, and frequently serve as intermediary between them and thesons of good families. "

"Really, I fail to see what service you can render me. "

"What service, my young friend!--permit an old trooper to give you thattitle--you ask what service I can render you, a poor notary clerk! Youvegetate, you share a wretched attic room with your father, and you aredressed--heaven knows how!"

"Monsieur!" cried Louis, flushing with indignation. 

"My dear young friend, these are facts which I state with regret, withindignation, almost. The devil! a young man like you should spendtwenty-five to thirty thousand francs per annum, have horses andmistresses, and enjoy the luxuries of life!"

"Is this a jest, monsieur?" asked Louis, haughtily. "If so, I warn youthat I am not in the humor to endure it. "

"Being an old soldier, my young friend, I have already proved mybravery and valor on scores of occasions, " remarked M. De LaMiraudière, boastfully, "and I can therefore allow your hasty words topass unnoticed. Moreover, I admit that what I have said must soundvery extraordinary to you. "

"Most extraordinary, indeed!"

"Here is something that will convince you that I am speaking seriously, my young friend, " went on the braggart, designating the bills beforehim. "Here are twenty-five thousand francs, which I will be most happyto place at your disposition, that you may establish yourself as ayoung man of good family; furthermore, you may draw on me for twothousand five hundred francs each month. I offer you these advancesfor five years; we shall count up later. "

Louis was gazing at him in consternation, unable to believe his senses. 

"You make that offer to me?" he queried, rousing himself from hisstupefaction. 

"Yes, and I am most happy to make it. "

"To me?--Louis Richard?"

"To you, Louis Richard. "

"Richard is a common name, monsieur; you must take me for some oneelse. "

"Not at all! I know whom I am addressing; Louis Desiré Richard, onlyson of Alexander Timoleon Benedict Richard, aged sixty-seven years, born at Brie-Comte-Robert; domiciled at 23 Rue de Grenelle, publicscribe by profession. As you see, there is no error, my young friend. "

"If you know my family so well, monsieur, you must be aware that mypoverty does not permit me to contract such a loan. "

"Your poverty?--poor boy!"

"But--"

"This is abominable, a veritable outrage!" cried the business man in atone of righteous indignation; "to bring up a young man in such error!to condemn him to spend the brightest years of his life in slavery! toreduce him to a shabby coat, blue stockings and laced shoes! But, happily--there is a Providence, and that Providence you see in me, myyoung friend. It appears to you under the features of Commander de LaMiraudière!"

"I am weary of this by-play, monsieur, " returned Louis, impatiently. "Pray explain yourself clearly, or I shall go. "

"Very well!--You believe your father to be almost in want, do you not?"

"I am not ashamed of our poverty--"

"Oh! candid young man!"

"What do you mean?"

"Listen, and you will then bless me as your saviour forever after. "

Opening a voluminous register, he read the following statement:

 "Record of personal property of Alexandre Timoleon Benedict Richard (information taken by Credit Committee of the Bank of France, May 1, 18--. ) Three thousand, nine hundred and twenty shares in the Bank of France (actual value) . . 924, 300 frs. Bonds of the Mont-de-Piété . .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. 875, 250 frs. Deposit in Bank of France . .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. . 259, 130 frs. Total . .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. 2, 058, 680 frs. "

"As you see, my innocent young friend, " continued the pompouscommander, "the known personal property of your esteemed and honorablefather amounts to two millions, fifty-eight thousand, six hundred andeighty francs, according to official statistics. But everything leadsus to believe that, like all misers, your worthy father has a goodround lump of gold hidden somewhere. But even placing things at theirlowest, you see that the author of your being possesses over twomillions, at least. As his income is about a hundred thousand _livresper annum_, and he does not spend twelve hundred francs, you shallenjoy a very large fortune some day; you can, therefore, feel noastonishment at my offer. "

This revelation paralyzed the young man with amazement. A thousandconfused thoughts struggled in his mind, and he stared at his companionstupidly, unable to utter a word. 

"You are quite dazed, my young friend, " pursued the commander. "Isuppose you imagine you must be dreaming!"

"Indeed, I scarcely know whether to believe you or not, " said Louis, still sadly bewildered. 

"Do as Saint Thomas did, my young friend: touch these twenty-fivethousand franc notes; it will give you faith. The capitalists whom Irepresent, are not men who throw away money; and here, I may add, thatthey make these advances at the rate of _eight per cent. _ thecommission for my obliging services being _seven per cent. _ more. Youare too much of a gentleman to bargain over such trifles; besides, bothcapital and interest will barely reach half your father's yearlyincome. Even while spending at the rate of fifty thousand francs perannum, you will be economizing; yet, it will enable you to await thesupreme hour patiently--I mean the hour when the old man--youunderstand! Moreover, as the said old man might be astonished at yourhigh way of living, I have thought of a most ingenious explanation. You will hold a ticket in a lottery and presumably draw the capitalprize, a diamond which you will sell for eight or nine thousand francs. This you will be supposed to have entrusted to a friend who, in histurn, invested the money in a magnificent enterprise, paying threehundred per cent. Per annum. Thanks to this stratagem, you can spendyour twenty-five to thirty thousand francs right under the paternalnose without awakening any suspicions. Now, young man, was Ipresumptuous in affecting providential airs toward you? But why thisgloom and silence? I, who expected you to burst with delight, to shoutwith joy, to cut capers, and give vent to many other manifestationstotally excusable in the first moments of rejoicing over your suddentransformation from a poor notary clerk into a millionaire! Why don'tyou answer me? Heavens! I fear his sudden happiness has bereft him ofhis senses!"

This revelation, which would doubtless have thrown anyone else into astate of delirious joy, caused the most painful emotion to LouisRichard. To begin with, the long dissimulation and distrust shown byhis father in leaving him in ignorance of his wealth, wounded him tothe heart; and then--this was the most cruel thought to him--heremembered that he could never share these riches with Mariette; thatby her heartless desertion she had deprived him of the pleasure ofchanging her wretched, joyless existence into a life of luxury andhappiness. 

This reflection revived his bitter grief; and, forgetting everythingbut the explanation he had sworn to demand from this man before him, hedrew the offending visiting card from his pocket, saying haughtily:

"You left this card for me at my home, monsieur?"

"Certainly, my young friend, but--"

"Can you explain, monsieur, how the name and address of MademoiselleMariette Moreau came to be scribbled on it?" continued Louis, glaringat him. 

"What!" exclaimed the amazed commander. 

"I wish to know how Mademoiselle Mariette Moreau's address comes to beon this card!" repeated Louis coldly. 

"The devil! he must have lost his senses!" said the usurer. "My dearyoung fellow, I speak to you of millions, of thirty thousand francsyearly, and you answer by speaking of--grisettes!"

"When I ask a question, monsieur, " thundered Louis, "I expect a reply!"

"And you assume such a tone with me, my young friend!"

"If my tone does not suit you, I cannot help it. "

"The deuce, my young fellow!" cried the usurer, fiercely. "But, bah!"he added, twirling his black moustache caressingly between his fingers, "I have proved my bravery scores of times--I, an old soldier, perforated with bullets, can pass such words unnoticed. My dearclient, the name and address of that little girl were found on my card, because I wrote them down that I might not forget where to find her. "

"You know Mademoiselle Mariette then?"

"Most assuredly!"

"You court her?"

"Once in a while. "

"And you hope?--"

"Much. "

"Monsieur, I forbid you to ever set foot in her home again!"

"So I have found a rival!" said the usurer to himself. "Ah! I nowunderstand the girl's refusal. I must sound him, drive him tojealousy, push him into a trap. The girl is worth having, and I mustcheck this passionate youth. "

"My dear sir, " he asked aloud, "when I am forbidden to do a thing, Iconsider it my first duty to do that very thing. "

"That remains to be seen!"

"Listen, young man; I have fought fifty-seven duels, and can thereforedispense with the fifty-eighth. I prefer to reason with you. Allow meone question: You have just returned from a journey?"

"I have. "

"You were absent several days, and have not seen Mariette since yourreturn?"

"But--"

"My dear young friend, you only share the lot of many others. Marietteknows nothing of your wealth; so when I offered her enough to turn thehead of any starved working girl, she accepted with delight. Hergodmother, who is also half starved, has a natural inclination for theluxuries of this life, and as the absent ones are always in thewrong--you understand--"

"Oh, my God! is it true then!" moaned Louis piteously, his wrath givingway to hopeless despair. 

"Had I known I was entering in competition with a future client I wouldhave abandoned the game, " resumed the usurer; "but it is too late now. Besides, my young friend, there is nothing to cry about. This girl wasmuch too inexperienced for you; you would have had to form her, whilethere are many charming women ready to drop in your arms. I wouldparticularly recommend a certain Madame de Saint-Hildebrande--"

"Wretch!" cried Louis indignantly, grasping him by the collar andshaking him vigorously. "You miserable scoundrel!"

"Sir, you will give me satisfaction for this--!" gasped the enragedcommander. 

The door opened abruptly and the two adversaries turned their headssimultaneously as a gay burst of laughter rang through the room. 

"Saint-Herem!" exclaimed Louis, recognizing his old friend. 

"You here!" cried Florestan de Saint-Herem, grasping the young man'shand and gazing curiously into his pale face. 

"May the devil take him for coming in at this moment!" muttered theusurer between his clenched teeth, as he readjusted the collar of hisdressing-gown. 

CHAPTER IX. 

Florestan de Saint-Herem was a man of thirty, at the most, withhandsome features and a commanding, elegant figure. His physiognomyexpressed both intelligence and wit, but often wore a mask ofsupercilious impertinence when addressing persons of the same stamp asthe usurer. 

The first moment of surprise and greeting over, the actors in theforegoing scene resumed their antagonistic attitude toward each other. Louis, still pale with indignation, glared at his adversary fiercely, while the latter faced him defiantly. 

"To dare raise a hand on me!--an old soldier!" cried the commander, advancing threateningly toward Louis. "This will not pass unpunished, Monsieur Richard!"

"As you wish, Monsieur de La Miraudière, " returned Louis. 

"Monsieur de La Miraudière!" repeated Florestan, with a sarcasticlaugh. "What! do you take this fellow seriously, my good Louis? Doyou believe in his military title, his cross, his campaigns, hiswounds, his duels, and his sonorous name of de La Miraudière?"

"Your jests are entirely out of place!" cried the usurer, flushingangrily, "and I will not endure them in my own house, Monsieur deSaint-Herem!--Indeed I will not, my dear fellow. "

"His name is Jerome Porquin, my dear Louis, " sneered Saint-Herem, "andit seems admirably chosen, does it not?" Then, turning to the crushedusurer, he added in a tone that admitted of no retort: "MonsieurPorquin, this is the second time I am forced to forbid you to addressme as "_your dear fellow_. " With me it is a different matter; I havebought and paid for the right of calling you my _dear_, my enormously_dear_, my too _dear_ Monsieur Porquin, for you have swindled meoutrageously and cost me a good round sum!"

"Sir, I will not suffer this!" cried the wrathful usurer. 

"Whence comes this timid sensitiveness on the part of M. Porquin?"asked Florestan, derisively. "What has happened? Ah! I see. This_dear_ M. Porquin does not enjoy having his lies and vain pretentiousunmasked in your presence, Louis. Well, I will tell you who M. De LaMiraudière really is. He once served the rations in the army, and inthat capacity went to Madrid during the last war. This is the onlyservice he has ever seen, and he was discharged from that fordishonesty. He has never fought a duel for, to begin with, he is toocowardly, and then he knows well that a gentleman would receive achallenge from him with contempt; and if driven to extremities by hisinsolence, he would simply teach him a lesson with his walking-stick. "

"When you stand in need of me you treat me with more delicacy!" sneeredthe usurer. 

"When I need your services I pay for them; and as I know yourunscrupulous character, it is my duty to warn M. Richard, whose friendI have the honor to be. You are doubtless trying to entice him intoyour net. "

"Ah! this is the reward I get for my services!" cried M. Porquin, bitterly. "I reveal a secret of the highest importance to your friend, and--"

"I now understand your object in coming to me, " interrupted Louis, dryly. "I owe you no thanks for the service you have rendered me--ifit is a service, " he concluded sadly. 

The usurer had no intention of giving up his prey without a struggle, however, and turning to Florestan, with the same ease as if they hadbeen on the most friendly terms, he said conciliatingly:

"M. Louis Richard can tell you what conditions I proposed and underwhat circumstances I made him this offer; you will then be better ableto judge if my demands were exorbitant. Furthermore, if I disturb youin your conversation, gentlemen, you may enter the drawing-room. If M. Richard wishes to consult you on the subject, I shall await hisdecision here. "

"This is the most intelligent phrase you have uttered yet, " returnedSaint-Herem, taking Louis' arm to lead him into the adjoining room. "And when we get through, I shall tell you the object of my visit. Or, rather, I will tell you now. I must have two hundred louis thisevening. Here are the securities; examine them at your leisure. "

Drawing a bundle of papers from his pocket, he tossed them carelesslytoward the usurer and left the room with his friend. 

The haughty brutality with which Florestan had unmasked Porquin hadproved a new blow to Louis Richard. The thought that Mariette hadsacrificed him for such a wretch, filled his heart with bitterness andresentment, and, unable to control his emotion longer, he burst intotears the moment he found himself alone with his friend. 

"Ah! Florestan, I am unhappy!" he sobbed, as he clasped hiscompanion's hand. 

"I have no doubt of it, my poor Louis, " said Saint-Heremsympathizingly, "for to place yourself in the clutches of such a rascalas Porquin, is to sell yourself to the devil! But tell me what hashappened? You have always been good and industrious, I know, but youmay have contracted some debt or committed some slight folly. What mayseem enormous to you, may be only a trifle to me. I shall receive twohundred louis from this Arab to-night; you have but to say the word andthey are yours. I can turn to someone else! Two hundred louis oughtto cover the debts of a notary clerk---come, must you have more? Thenwe shall raise more; but in heaven's name don't put yourself in thetoils of this scoundrel!"

This generous offer filled Louis' heart with such sweet consolationthat for the moment he forgot his sorrows. 

"My dear Florestan, " he said gratefully, "you cannot imagine how thisproof of friendship on your part comforts and consoles me. "

"You accept, then?"

"No. "

"What?"

"I have no need of your good services. This usurer, who was a totalstranger to me, wrote to me requesting an interview; and he offers tolend me more money in one year than I have spent in all my life. "

"He offers you that! Why, the rascal never advances a sou without thebest securities. People of his stamp consider neither honor, probity, nor industry; and I was not aware that you had expectations. "

"You are mistaken, Florestan; my father is worth over two millions. "

"Your father!" exclaimed Saint-Herem in amazement. "Your father rich!"

"This usurer discovered his secret; how, I cannot say. "

"And so he offered his services. Well, you may be sure his informationis correct, for he advances nothing on doubtful security. "

"I believe it, " rejoined Louis sadly. 

"My dear Louis, one might think you had made some unfortunatediscovery. What is it? Are you unhappy?--and why, pray?"

"Ah! my friend, don't scoff at me. I love, and have been deceived. "

"You have a rival?"

"And that rival is this wretch!"

"Porquin?--nonsense; what makes you imagine such an absurdity?"

"I had some suspicions, and then he assured me he had been accepted. "

"A fine authority, upon my word! He lies, I am sure of it. "

"He is rich, Florestan; and the woman I loved and still love in spiteof myself, is poor. She has endured the most cruel misery for years. "

"The devil!"

"Besides this, she is the only support of a crippled old woman. Thisman's offers dazzled the poor child; and like so many others, shesuccumbed through misery. What good is a fortune now, when my onlydesire was to share it with Mariette?"

"My dear Louis, I know you too well to believe you could have loved awoman unworthy of your affections. "

"For a whole year Mariette gave me abundant proofs of a sincereaffection; then yesterday, without warning, a letter came announcingthe sudden rupture--"

"A woman who loved a poor man like you for a whole year, does not yieldto an old rascal like Porquin in one day. I tell you he lies!" And toLouis' great astonishment, Saint-Herem called aloud, "Hi, there! de laMiraudière!"

"Florestan! what are you doing?" remonstrated Louis, as the usurerappeared. 

"Monsieur de La Miraudière, " observed Saint-Herem, with his habitualsupercilious air, "there seems to exist some slight confusion in yourmind in regard to a respectable young girl, who, according to you, hasbeen seduced by your wit, your personal charms and excellent manners, still more enchanced by that gold which you so honorably grasp. Now, my worthy commander, will you do me the pleasure to speak the truth?If not, I shall know how to deal with you. "

"I deeply regret having jested on a subject which seems to annoy M. Richard, " responded Porquin, deeming it better policy to sacrifice afancy which stood little chance of being gratified, than to run therisk of losing so promising a client as Louis. 

"You may perhaps be able to explain how the idea of this jest--which, by the way, I should call a base calumny--entered your head?" pursuedFlorestan. 

"Nothing more simple, monsieur: I saw Mademoiselle Mariette Moreau inthe workshop, and was struck with her beauty. I then procured heraddress, visited her home, where I found her godmother, and proposed--"

"Enough, sir! enough!" cried Louis indignantly. 

"Permit me to add, my dear client, " resumed Porquin, imperturbably, "that the said godmother refused my offers point-blank, and thatMademoiselle Mariette indignantly showed me the door. As you see, I amperfectly frank, and hope this sincere avowal will win me theconfidence of M. Richard, who will not fail to accept my services. Asfor you, Monsieur de Saint-Herem, I have examined your securities andwill place the two hundred _louis_ in your hands this evening--and nowthat you have learned the conditions I have proposed to your friend, Iam sure you must consider them reasonable. "

"I don't want your money, " cried Louis. "Do you believe me capable ofdiscounting my father's death?"

"But, my dear client, allow me--"

"Come, Florestan, let us go, " interrupted Louis, "this room stifles me. "

"My dear Porquin, " remarked Saint-Herem, as he followed his friend tothe door, "as you see, there are still honest sons and daughtersliving. I will not say: 'May this serve you as a lesson or anexample, ' for you are too old a sinner to reform; but I sincerely hopethis double disappointment will prove a most disagreeable pill toswallow. "

"Ah! my dear friend, you have relieved me of a cruel doubt, " saidLouis, gratefully, when they had reached the street. "I am now certainthat Mariette never lowered herself to this wretch--but the fact stillremains that she has broken our engagement. "

"Did she tell you so?"

"She has written or, rather, made someone else write. "

"Made someone else write?"

"Ah! you will laugh at me--the poor girl I love can neither read norwrite. "

"What a happy mortal you are! You are spared the lengthy epistles I amforced to endure from a little shop girl whom I have robbed from ajealous banker. I amuse myself by making her the rage, and enjoy thepoor creature's ecstasies immensely! It is so delightful to makeothers happy. Her grammar is outrageous, however. Ah! my friend, whatorthography! it is of the antediluvian, innocent style; such as MotherEve must have used--but if your Mariette cannot write, who knows buther secretary may have misinterpreted her thoughts?"

"With what object?"

"I don't know. But why not have an explanation with her?"

"She has begged me, in the name of her future happiness, not to see heragain. "

"Well, now that you are a prospective millionaire, I would advise youto see her in the name of that very future happiness. "

"You are right, Florestan; I shall see her, and if this cruel mysterycan be explained, if I find her as in the past, affectionate anddevoted, what bliss shall be mine! Poor child, her life has been oneof work and misery; but she will now find comfort and rest, for myfather shall consent, and--Ah! my God!--"

"What is it?" asked Florestan, anxiously. 

"I have forgotten to tell you that my father wishes me to marry yourcousin. "

"What cousin?"

"Mademoiselle Ramon. "

"You don't mean it?"

"I have just returned from Dreux, where I met her; and I must admitthat, even if I were not in love with Mariette, I could never marrysuch a woman--"

"My uncle must be still wealthy, then, though he announced his ruinmany years ago, " interrupted Saint-Herem. "It is evident that amarriage with my cousin would be advantageous to you, or your fatherwould never propose it, believe me. "

"My father explained our poverty in the same way; he pretended to havelost his money many years ago. "

"Ah, my worthy uncle, I knew you to be disagreeable and unendurable!"resumed Florestan; "but I did not believe you capable of suchsuperiority of conception; from this day I esteem and venerate you. Iam not your heir, it is true; but the thought of a millionaire uncle isa pleasant one, nevertheless. In moments of trouble we dream of him, we form all sorts of affectionate hypotheses, even revel in thoughts ofapoplexy and long for cholera, that Providence of impecunious heirs, which appears like a good fairy, robed in rosy hues. "

"My dear Florestan, " laughed Louis, "though I wish no one harm, I admitthat I would be glad to see your uncle's fortune fall into your handsinstead of going to his detestable daughter. You would know how toenjoy the money at least; and, with such wealth, I am sure you would--"

"Contract debts, my dear fellow, " interrupted his friend, majestically. 

"What! with that immense fortune--"

"I would most assuredly contract debts, I tell you. "

"With two or three millions?"

"With ten, or twenty millions! My system is similar to that of theState: the higher the debt of a country, the higher stands her credit;therefore, what is credit?--wealth! This is elementary, not countingthat it involves a high question of moral philosophy. But I shallexplain my financial and philosophical ideas on a more favorableoccasion. Go to Mariette, and report to me later. As for me, I havepromised to take my little shop-girl out on a new saddle-horse which, by the way, cost me an outrageous price. Now don't fail to come orwrite to me; whatever happens, I want to share your joy or sorrow. Butjump in and let me take you there. "

"Thank you, I prefer to walk; it will give me time to think over allthat has happened and what attitude I should assume toward my father, in view of this singular revelation. "

"Good-bye, then, my dear Louis; don't forget that I shall expect youbefore 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 onthe 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 andpainfully contracted, and traces of abundant tears stained her marblecheeks; one hand lay listlessly at her side, while in the other sheconvulsively clutched the envelope containing the debris of Louis'letter. Kneeling by the bedside, her harsh, sarcastic featuressoftened by an expression of touching grief and cruel anxiety, Mme. Lacombe was supporting Mariette's head with her mutilated arm, whilewith the other hand she was endeavoring to force a few drops of waterthrough the livid lips. 

At the sight of a stranger standing in the doorway, however, herfeatures resumed the habitual expression of harshness and moroseness. 

"What do you want?" she asked roughly. "Why do you come in withoutrapping at the door?--I don't know you!--who are you?"

Taking no notice of these many questions, Louis rushed to the bedsideand threw himself on his knees beside the unconscious girl, crying: "MyGod! what has happened?--Mariette, Mariette, speak to me!"

"So you are Louis Richard?" exclaimed the old woman, her eyes flashingangrily 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?" sneeredMme. Lacombe. 

"Dead!--Mariette dead!" gasped Louis. "It is impossible!--But we mustsummon 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 impudentscoundrel!" 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, ofcourse! But last night the poor child broke down in despair andconfessed 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--"

"You lie!" cried the old woman vehemently. "I tell you she read yourletter; there it is now, clutched in her fingers! Heavens! what aflood of tears she shed over that rag! Go out of my sight, youworthless rake! We were very stupid indeed to refuse the good offermade to us. Yet, I told Mariette virtue brought little reward in thisworld. And now she is dying, and I am out into the street, withoutfire or shelter, without bread or anything, for everything will go forback rent. Happily, " she added, with a grim smile, "I have still asmall measure of charcoal left--and charcoal is the deliverance of poorpeople from misery. "

"My God! this is horrible!" moaned Louis, unable to restrain his tears. "I swear that we are the victims of some terrible mistake, madame--Mariette! Mariette! speak to me!--It is I--Louis!"

"Do you want to kill her on the spot?" cried the exasperated woman, trying to push him away. "If she recovers consciousness, the sight ofyou will finish her. "

"Heaven be praised!" murmured Louis, resisting the woman's efforts andbending over the girl. "See, her hands are relaxing and her eyesopening--Mariette! it is I, Louis! do you hear me?"

The girl's eyes roamed around the room for a moment, then slowly turnedon the young man, who still leaned anxiously over her. Soon anexpression of joyful surprise spread itself over her pale features andshe attempted to raise her head, supporting herself on her elbow. 

"Louis!" she murmured, feebly. "Ah! I thought I would never see youagain--"

Then as the sad reality returned to her mind, she threw herself in Mme. Lacombe's arms and burst into tears. 

"Ah! godmother, " she sobbed, "he comes to say farewell--it is all over!"

"There now, didn't I tell you this would finish her!" cried Mme. Lacombe, fiercely. "Go, I say! and never let me see your face again!"

"Mariette! in mercy listen to me!" pleaded Louis. "I did not come tosay farewell, but to tell you that I love you more than ever. "

"Heavens! can it be true?" murmured the girl, starting up. 

"We have been the victims of some error, Mariette, " continued the youngman. "I have never ceased to love you for a single moment; no, never. During my absence, I had but one thought, one desire; it was to see youagain and fix the day of our marriage, as I told you in my letter--"

"Your letter!" interrupted the girl, sadly. "Have you alreadyforgotten what you wrote, Louis? Here--read it. "

"He can deny his own writing, of course, " growled Mme. Lacombe, as theyoung man hastily placed the torn pieces together; "and you'll bestupid enough to believe him. "

"This is what I wrote, Mariette, " said Louis, when he had succeeded inhis difficult task. 

"My Dear Mariette:

"I shall be with you the day following the receipt of this letter. What I have suffered during this short separation proves that I cannotlive without you. Thank God, the day of our union is fast approaching. Tomorrow is the _sixth of May_, remember. I shall speak to my fatherthe moment I reach home, and I am sure he will not refuse his consent. 

"Farewell, then, until day after to-morrow, my darling Mariette. Ilove you madly, or wisely, rather; for I was wise to seek and findhappiness in a heart like yours. 

"Yours forever and ever. LOUIS. "

"I write these few lines only, because I shall be in Paris almost assoon as my letter; and then, it is always painful to think that othereyes see what I write for you only. Were it not for this, how manythings might I not say!"

Mariette was so astounded that she could find no word to say. 

"I cannot understand how this letter could have produced such a sadeffect on you?" said Louis, much perplexed. 

"Is that really what the letter says?" asked the amazed girl. 

"Certainly. Here, Madame Lacombe, read it, " suggested Louis, placingthe fragments before her. 

"You know very well that I can't read, " replied the old woman, roughly. "How is it that the contrary was told Mariette?"

"Who read it for you, Mariette?" asked Louis. 

"The public scribe, " she informed him. 

"A public scribe!" exclaimed the young man, a fearful suspicionflashing through his mind. "In mercy, explain yourself!"

"There is very little to explain, my dear Louis. I went in search of apublic scribe, at the _Charnier des Innocents_, and dictated a letterfor you to a very kind old gentleman. He was so kind, indeed, that heonly charged me ten sous, although he was obliged to write it twice, having spilt the bottle of ink on the first copy as he was preparing toaddress it to Dreux. When I reached home again, I found this letterfrom you; then I went back to the public scribe--for he had shown muchinterest in me--and he read it for me. According to him, the lettersaid that we should never meet again; that your father's futurehappiness and your own depended on our separation, and that--" But shecould say no more, and burst into tears. 

Louis understood it all, however, from the chance meeting of Mariettewith his father, to the stratagem of the latter to deceive them both. This abuse of confidence overwhelmed him with such grief and shame, that he dared not admit the tie of relationship existing betweenhimself and the public scribe, but sought another plausible explanationof this deceit and treachery. 

"Notwithstanding his apparent good nature and benevolence, this oldrascal must have been trying to amuse himself at your expense, my poorMariette, " said the young man. "He read you just the contrary of whatI had written. "

"Oh! how could he be so cruel!" cried the girl, clasping her two handstogether. "He appeared so good, and expressed his sympathy so kindlyfor 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 nevermind it now, " he added, anxious to drop a conversation which pained himso 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 interruptedroughly. "If you are the son of a public writer, you are as pennilessas Mariette; and two miseries united in marriage are worth three singleones. My goddaughter has enough of me to support, without a troop offamished children. "

"But, my dear godmother--" protested the girl. 

"Don't bother me!" she retorted angrily. "I know your plans; yousimply want to rid yourself of me and leave me in the gutter to starve. "

"How can you believe such a thing!" cried Mariette, reproachfully, hereyes full of tears. 

"Your fears are groundless, I assure you, " Louis hastened to say. "Ihave just discovered that my father is immensely wealthy, but forreasons of his own, he has kept the matter a secret until now. "

Mariette gazed at Louis with an air of mingled astonishment and delightat this unexpected information. Then she smiled through her tears andsaid, with a shade of defiance in her gentle voice: "You see, godmother, that the picture is not as dark as you painted it, we arequite able to take care of you as well as ourselves. "

"You are quite ready to fall into the trap, of course, " rejoined theold woman, with a sarcastic laugh. 

"But, godmother--"

"Don't you see that he is inventing those lies to obtain my consent toyour marriage--"

"Madame, I swear--"

"And I tell you there is no truth in it; or, if you are rich, you don'twant Mariette. A rich man would never be stupid enough to marry a poorgirl who can neither read nor write. "

"You are mistaken, " said Louis, with dignity; "the son of a rich mandoes not break the word given in his days of poverty, when his life'shappiness depends on that word--"

"Bah! mere phrases and words!" interrupted the woman sharply. "Rich orpoor, you shall never have Mariette, until you have assured me aliving. I don't ask much; only six hundred francs a year; but I musthave it in money, with a contract deposited in the hands of a reliablenotary. "

"Ah! godmother, why should you distrust Louis so?" protested Mariettetearfully. 

"My dear child, I know all about these fine promises, " declared Mme. Lacombe. "He will promise anything beforehand; then, when he is sureof you, out goes the old cripple. With you, Mariette, I have nothingto fret about. I may be a heavy burden, but you are a good girl andstand in awe of me. Once married, however, you will both defy me andthrow me out of the house. What will become of me, then? Is it myfault if I am a cripple? No! no! I tell you there shall be nomarriage unless an income of six hundred francs is placed in the handsof a notary!"

While giving away to these bitter recriminations, the poor creaturerocked to and fro, looking furtively at the two young people andwatching the effect of her words. 

"Poor Mariette, " thought Louis, "how she must have suffered! To thinkof so much affection and devotion rewarded with so much ingratitude!"

"Madame, " he said aloud, when she had ceased speaking, "you may restassured that neither Mariette nor myself will ever forget that you havebeen as a mother to her; and you shall always be treated with theconsideration that you deserve--I swear it. "

"Thank you, Louis!" cried the girl gratefully, "I am glad to see thatyou share my sentiments for my poor godmother, who has indeed been as amother to me. "

"Don't you see that he is laughing at us!" exclaimed the old womanharshly. "He has no intention of marrying you and giving me a pension, I can tell you. If he is really rich, he will cajole you and enticeyou into a trap; then some fine morning, you will hear of his marriagewith another woman--go, I say, and never set foot in this house again!"

"Madame, " said Louis, "I shall come with my father to beg the honor ofMariette's hand in marriage, and will at the same time inform you ofthe advantages I shall be able to give you. "

"Yes, yes, those fine propositions will come when I am in my grave, "she muttered, as she climbed into her bed and turned her face to thewall. 

"It shall be no later than to-morrow, " declared Louis. "Good-bye, Mariette. I shall call with my father to-morrow. "

"Can it really be true that, after so much sorrow, we should at lastknow happiness--happiness forever, " murmured the young girl, as Louisclasped her hand tenderly in his. 

"Will you ever get done? you are driving me wild with your happiness!"came sharply from the bed. "Go, and leave me in peace!--and don't youdare to move from the room, Mariette! You are dying to go down withthat gay deceiver, I know; but when I say _no_, I mean _no_!"

The young couple exchanged one last loving glance and, with awhispered: "Good-bye, my darling, " Louis was gone, while Mariettereturned slowly to the bedside of her godmother. 

CHAPTER XI. 

Louis at once proceeded to his father's business place, anxious to getover the inevitable explanation which had become necessary betweenthem. But to his great astonishment and alarm, he found the door andshutters still closed, and was informed by the neighbors that the oldman had not made his appearance that day. This break in his regularhabits seemed so unusual and inexplicable, that the young man felt avague uneasiness invading him as he hurried toward home, and all sortsof wild conjectures flashed through his mind. He soon reached the Ruede Grenelle, however, and was running up the first flight of stairswhen the concierge called him from his door. 

"Monsieur Louis, " he said, "your father went out a couple of hours agoand left a letter for you. I was to take it to your office if you didnot return before two o'clock. "

The young man grasped the letter and tore it open. It ran thus:

"My dear child:

"I have just received a few lines from my friend Ramon, informing methat he and his daughter will arrive in Paris to-day. 

"As he has never traveled in a railway train and anticipates muchpleasure in that mode of conveyance, he will stop at Versailles, wherehe begs us to meet him. We shall visit the palace, and return togetherby the last train. 

"I shall wait for you at the Hotel du Reservoir; but if you are late, you can join us at the palace. Remember, that this interview withMademoiselle Ramon will compromise you in no way. My only desire isthat you should take advantage of this opportunity to study that youngperson's character and see the injustice of your groundless prejudices. You will moreover understand that, whatever may be your projects, itwould be most ungracious on your part to fail at a rendezvous given byone of my oldest and dearest friends. 

"Your father, who loves you deeply, and whose sole desire is yourhappiness. 

"A. RICHARD. "

Notwithstanding his habitual deference to the wishes of his father, Louis thought it unnecessary to go to Versailles and face MademoiselleRamon a second time; so he hastened to his employer's office instead, and resumed his usual work, undeterred by the astounding revelation ofhis father's wealth. Owing to the numerous distractions caused by thevarious events of the day, however, it was late when he finished hisday's task and put away his papers. 

He had just closed his desk and was taking his hat from its accustomedpeg, when one of his comrades burst into the room and cried excitedly:"My God! what a terrible thing!"

"What is it, " asked the clerks in chorus. 

"I have just met a friend on his way back from the Versailles station--"

"Versailles station!" echoed Louis, with a sudden start. "Well, whathas happened?"

"A frightful accident!"

"Great Heavens!" cried Louis, turning deathly pale. "But go on. "

"The return train to Paris ran off the track, throwing the cars in aheap; and it is reported that all the passengers have either beencrushed or burnt to death, and--"

But Louis stopped to hear no more. Rushing out, bareheaded as he was, he dashed down the street to the first corner, where he leaped into acab, crying: "Twenty francs if you take me to the Versailles station atbreakneck speed--and from there somewhere else--I don't know where; butin mercy, go!"

"Which side of the river, monsieur, " asked the coachman, as he lashedhis horse. 

"What do you mean?"

"There are two stations. One on the right, the other on the left bank. "

"I want to go where that terrible accident occurred. "

"This is the first I hear of it, monsieur. "

Louis was forced to return to the office for information; but he foundthe place already deserted, and returned to the cab in despair. 

"I have just learned it was on the left bank, " the coachman informedhim from his seat. 

"To the left bank then!" he ordered, sinking back on the cushions witha moan. 

There he learned that the sad news was unfortunately but too true, andwas directed how to reach the scene of the accident. 

It was nightfall when he finally reached Bas-Meudon; and, guided by theflames of the burning debris, he soon found himself on the sinisterspot, where he spent the night in a fruitless search for the charredremains of his father among the mass of crushed and burnt flesh piledon the roadside or pinioned in the wreck. Worn out in body andspirits, he returned to Paris at dawn, hoping his father might havebeen one of the small number that had escaped with slight injuries. 

"Has my father returned?" were his first words to the concierge. 

"No, monsieur Louis, " replied the man. 

"There is no doubt possible then--he perished in the accident, " hemoaned, sinking into a chair and bursting into sobs. 

In a few moments he had recovered his self-possession however; and, without stopping to hear the concierge's words of condolence, he slowlyascended to the fifth landing and entered the dreary room. At sight ofthis gloomy home, so long shared with his beloved father, the youngman's grief again became uncontrollable; and, throwing himself on thebed, he buried his face in his hands and gave free scope to hisoverwhelming sorrow. 

He had sobbed thus for half an hour, absorbed wholly in his bitterdespair, when he was startled by a knock at the door, followed by theentrance of some one into the room. 

"What is it?" asked Louis, wiping the tears from his eyes. 

"I am sorry to disturb you at such a time, Monsieur Louis, " said theconcierge timidly, "but the coachman--"

"What coachman?" questioned the young man in surprise, having entirelyforgotten the cab in his grief. 

"Why, the coachman you retained all night. It seems you promised himtwenty extra francs if he would lash his horse to the utmost speed. This, with his night's run, comes to forty-nine francs, and he claimshis money. "

"Well, give him the money and tell him to go!" rejoined Louisimpatiently. 

"But, forty-nine francs is an enormous sum, Monsieur Louis; and I can'tpay it. "

"My God! what shall I do!" cried the young man, recalled to thematerial interests of life by this request. "I have no money!"

"Then why in the deuce do you hire cabs by the hour and in the night, too, besides promising twenty extra francs for speed? You must havetaken leave of your senses!" cried the astounded man. "What will youdo now? See if you can't find a little money in your father's chest. "

These last words recalled what he had forgotten in his paroxysm ofgrief. His father was rich, and there must surely be some money aboutthe place. Not wishing to prosecute his search in the presence of astranger, however, he said carelessly: "Tell the man to wait, as mayneed the cab again this morning. If I am not down in half an hour, come up and I shall give you the money. "

"But this will increase the bill, and if you cannot pay--" the manbegan to remonstrate. 

"I know what I am doing, " interrupted Louis, coldly; "you may go. "

Once alone, he shrank from the task imposed upon him; thisinvestigation, at such a moment, seemed almost a sacrilege. Butnecessity forced him to resign himself to it, and he stifled hisscruples as best he might. 

The furniture of the room Was composed of a writing table, a dresser, and an old black-walnut chest divided into two compartments, such as wefind in the houses of well-to-do peasants. After a fruitless search ofthe table and dresser, Louis turned to the old chest. A few pieces ofworn clothes lay scattered about, but nothing else; and in the longdrawer that separated the compartments, he found a bundle ofunimportant papers only. Thinking this drawer might contain a secrethiding place, however, he drew it out completely, and was rewarded forhis trouble by finding a small brass button beneath it. As he pressedthis button, he was astonished to see the bottom of the firstcompartment drop slowly down, revealing a space of about six inches indepth, with diverging shelves lined in garnet velvet. Symmetricallyarranged between these shelves were innumerable piles of gold pieces, representing all countries and epochs. Each piece had evidently beenfrequently and vigorously rubbed and cleaned, for the whole glitteredwith almost dazzling brilliancy. 

Notwithstanding his overwhelming grief, Louis was completely dazzledfor a moment at sight of this treasure, the value of which he knew mustbe considerable; and it was not until the first impression had passedover, that he remarked a piece of folded paper almost beneath hisfingers. Recognizing his father's hand-writing, he picked it upeagerly and read these words:

"This collection of gold coins was begun September 7, 1803; its actualvalue is 287, 634 francs. (See paragraph IV. In my last will andtestament, confided to M. Marainville, notary, Rue Sainte-Anne, No. 28, who also has all papers, deeds and titles. See also sealed envelope, behind Spanish coin, fifth shelf. )"

Removing several piles of the large, heavy coins, Louis at last foundan envelope, sealed in black and bearing these words in big letters:

 "TO MY WELL-BELOVED SON. "

Before he could open it, however, there was a knock on the door; and, remembering that he had told the _concierge_ to return in half an hour, he grasped one of the Spanish coins under his hand and quickly pressedthe button that closed the treasure box. 

"What a fine gold piece!" exclaimed the amazed _concierge_, when theyoung man handed him the coin. "It looks like new, and I never saw onelike it! How much is it worth?"

"More than the sum I owe, " replied Louis, impatiently; "take it to amoney broker and pay the coachman. "

"Did your father leave you many of these pretty coins, Monsieur Louis?"queried the man in a mysterious whisper. "Who would have believed thatthe poor old man--"

"Go!" cried Louis, irritated at the cynicism of this question. "Paythe coachman, and don't let me see you again. "

The man withdrew without another word; and, having bolted the door tosave himself from further intrusion, the miser's son returned to thechest. For a moment he stood contemplating the dazzling treasurebefore him, and though he reproached himself for thinking of his ownhappiness in that terrible hour, he could not help feeling a thrill ofdelight at the thought that one-fourth that sum would insure comfortand independence to his Mariette for a whole lifetime. 

Then he tried to forget the cruel stratagem employed by his fathertoward the poor girl, and even succeeded in convincing himself that hewould have obtained his consent to their union; and that, though hemight not have admitted his wealth, he would at least have amplyprovided for them. 

The discovery of these riches did not inspire him with that covetous, revengeful joy usually experienced by the heirs of a miser, when theyremember the cruel privations to which they were subjected through theavarice of the owner; it was, on the contrary, with a feeling oftouching pious respect, and with a hand trembling with emotion, that heunfolded the sheet containing the last wishes of his beloved father. 

CHAPTER XII. 

The testament had been written two months previous and was in theseterms:

"MY BELOVED SON:"

"When you read these lines I shall have ceased to live. "

"You have always believed me poor; but I leave you an immense fortuneaccumulated by my _avarice_. 

"I have been _miserly_, and do not attempt to excuse my fault; far fromit, I am proud of it and glory in it. 

"And this is why:

"Until the day of your birth, which robbed me of your mother, I wasunmindful of augmenting my patrimony and the dowry brought me by mywife; the moment I had a son, however, that sentiment of foresight, which becomes a sacred duty to a father, took possession of me, developing slowly into a love of economy, then into parsimony, andfinally into avarice. 

"Moreover, you never suffered through the privations I imposed uponmyself. Born sound and robust, the virile simplicity of your educationhas, I believe, aided the development of your excellent constitution. 

"When you reached the age of instruction, I sent you to a school openedto the children of poor parents; to begin with, it was a means ofeconomy; and besides, this mode of education was calculated to form anddevelop habits of a modest, laborious life. The success of this plansurpassed my expectations. Raised among poor children, you neveracquired those factitious, expensive tastes; never experienced thosebitter envies or vain jealousies which often influence our fate fatally. 

"I also spared you many griefs which, though childish, are none theless cruel. 

"You have never had to compare your condition to others more elevatedor more opulent than your own. 

"You have never felt the pangs of that envious hatred inspired bycomrades in speaking of the splendor of their homes, boasting of theantique nobility of their race, or the wealth they would enjoy some day. 

"It is generally believed that because children of dissimilarconditions wear the same uniform, eat at the same table, and follow thesame course of study, a sentiment of equality exists between them. 

"This is a deep error. 

"Social inequality is as well understood among children as it is amongtheir elders. 

"The son of a rich bourgeois or of a nobleman, almost invariablybetrays at the age of ten the arrogance, or haughtiness he will displayin fifteen years later. 

"Whether children are _little men_, or men are _grown children_ matterslittle; all have the consciousness of their condition. 

"As for you, surrounded as you were by children of the poor, you heardthem continually speak of the hard labors of their parents; theindispensable necessity of work was therefore early impressed on yourmind. 

"Others of your companions dwelt on the privations and miseries enduredby their families; you thus became accustomed to the idea of ourpoverty. 

"Lastly, you saw the greater number of these children resigned andcourageous--two of the greatest virtues in the world--and until now, mybeloved son, courage and resignation have never failed you. 

"At fifteen you competed for a scholarship in one of the high schools, where you finished your studies. Your first education had alreadyborne excellent fruits; for, although many of your new companionsbelonged to the aristocratic world, their contact never altered yourprecious qualities, and you never knew the meaning of either jealousyor envy. 

"Later, you entered as junior clerk in a notary's office, with a manwho has long been my friend, and who alone holds the secret andadministers my fortune. Until now, the discretion of this friend hasequaled his devotion. Near him, you have acquired a perfect knowledgeof business; and, thanks to my foresight, you shall be in a position toskilfully and advantageously administer the considerable wealth I haveamassed. 

"My conscience does not reproach me; and yet, I admit that I sometimesfear you will address this reproach to my memory:

"_While you accumulated these riches, my father, you condemned mewithout mercy to the most cruel privations_. 

"Reflection drives this fear from my heart, however; I remember howfrequently you have assured me that you were satisfied with yourcondition, and that if you desired luxuries it was only for my sake. 

"In fact, your inexhaustible humor and gentleness, your natural gaietyof spirits and tender affection for me sufficiently prove that you arecontented. Moreover, do I not share your privations? Your owneconomies, added to my earnings as a public scribe, have permitted usto live without touching my revenues. The capital has thus beengrowing for twenty years in the hands of my prudent administrator. 

"On the day on which I pen these lines, my fortune amounts to about twomillions and a half. 

"I know not how many years of life may still be allotted to me, but inten years I shall have attained the average length of human life; youshall then be thirty-five years of age; and since a capital doublesitself in ten years, my wealth shall have attained the enormous sum offour or five millions. 

"Unless I am stricken down suddenly, you shall therefore, in allprobability, attain your complete maturity before entering intopossession of these riches. Your sober, modest, industrious habits, contracted in childhood, shall be as a second nature to you; and yourknowledge of business will be still more developed by practice. Add tothese advantages your uprightness of mind, your strong physicalconstitution--unimpaired by early excesses--and you will find yourselfin the best possible condition to inherit the wealth I have amassed, aswell as to enjoy it according to your own tastes which, I am sure, canbe nothing but generous and honorable. 

"You may, perhaps, ask why I simply left my capital to multiply byitself, instead of attempting some great financial operation orenjoying the delights of luxury?

"I shall tell you why, my dear child. 

"Although my avarice had its origin in a sentiment of paternalforesight, it has now assumed all the inherent characteristics of aviolent passion. 

"I could, and can still, deprive myself of everything to accumulateriches upon riches, happy in the thought that it is all for you, andthat you will enjoy this gold some day; but to release my hold on anypart of my belongings, for any object whatever, or risk anything infinancial operations is impossible--no! not while I live! It would betearing my heart out by the core; for the possession of his treasure islife itself to a miser. Without spending or risking one farthing, Ican give myself up in imagination to the most hazardous or magnificentoperations. And this is neither a vain desire nor an empty dream. No!no! with what I possess, those magnificences and splendors arerealizable to-day, to-morrow, this very hour, if I choose. 

"How then can you expect that a miser should have the courage or willto release his hold on such a talisman? What! for one project, onerealized dream, would I sacrifice a thousand projects, a thousandrealizable dreams? Besides, is not my son happy as he is? Would henot be the pride of the proudest of fathers? And is it not for him, _for him only_, that I hoard up these treasures?

"Had I acted differently, what would have been the result?

"Had I been lavish, my prodigality would have left you in misery; andhad I spent my income only, we would doubtless have lived in idlenessand enjoyed a few physical joys or vain satisfactions, but what wouldwe have gained?

"Should we have become better? I know not. But at my death I wouldhave left you a reasonable income only, and not sufficient to realizeany large and generous undertaking. 

"One last word, my dear son, in answer to a reproach you may address mymemory. 

"Believe me, if you have been left in ignorance of my riches, it wasnot through a sentiment of dissimulation or distrust of you. 

"These were my reasons:

"Had you known of my riches, though you might perhaps have accepted thehumble existence I imposed on you without a murmur, you would haveaccused me in your heart of harshness and egotism; and, who knows, thecertainty of future riches might perhaps also have impaired yourprecious qualities. 

"This is not all---forgive me this foolish fear, this apprehensionwhich is so unjust to your excellent heart--but to enjoy your filialaffection in all its purity and disinterestedness during my life, itwas necessary that you should have no thought of an opulent inheritanceafter my death. 

"Another reason, the gravest of all, perhaps, has led me to conceal myriches--I love you so tenderly, that it would have been impossible forme to see you undergo any privation if you had known that I couldprovide the most sumptuous existence for you. 

"Notwithstanding the apparent contradiction that seems to exist betweenthis sentiment and my avaricious conduct toward you, I hope, my dearchild, that you will understand my thought. 

"And now, I place myself in spirit face to face with death, which maystrike me to-day, to-morrow, or this very hour; and I declare, in thissupreme and solemn moment, that I bless you from the depth of my soul, my dear beloved child, you who have given me joy and happiness only inthis world. 

"Be a hundred times blessed, Louis, my good, affectionate son; be happyaccording to your merits, and my last wishes will be accomplished. 

"Your father, A. RICHARD. 

"Written and copied in Paris, February 25, 18--"

CHAPTER XIII. 

Louis was deeply moved by the reading of this singular testament, andwept long as he reflected on the eccentricities of his beloved father. The day was drawing to a close, when he was finally aroused from hisgrief by a knock at his door and the well known voice of Florestan deSaint-Herem. 

Quickly unbolting the door of the gloomy attic chamber, he foundhimself in his friend's arms, who cried sympathetically:

"Louis! my poor Louis! I know all. The _concierge_ has just told meof your father's death. Ah! what a cruel, frightful accident!"

"Bead this, Florestan, " said Louis, with tears in his eyes, giving hisfriend the testament left by his father, "and you will understand mybitter grief. "

Saint-Herem took the paper and, seating himself by the window, read itto the end. 

"Do you think I can now blame his avarice?" asked Louis, when hisfriend had finished. "Was not his only aim to enrich me, to place mein a position to gain more wealth, or to make a generous use of thepossessions he left me? He imposed the hardest privations on himselfthat he might hoard up treasures for me!"

"Nothing surprises me on the part of a miser, " returned Florestan. "They are capable of great things--and this applies to all who are aprey to that powerful and prolific passion. "

"Don't exaggerate, Florestan. "

"This may seem a paradox to you, but there is nothing more true. Wehave always been stupidly unjust to misers, " went on Florestan, withgrowing enthusiasm. "The genius and zeal they display in inventinginconceivable, impossible economies is prodigious. Altars should beraised in their honor! Thanks to their wise, obstinate parsimony, theypossess a wonderful knack of turning everything into gold; carefulsaving of matches, picking up stray pins, a centime carefully invested;in fact, the most trifling of economies bring in returns. And yet, theworld denies the existence of alchemists, the inventors of thephilosophical stone! Once more, I repeat it, do they not turn intogold what is nothing in other hands!"

"You are right enough on that score, " laughed Louis. 

"On that and on all other scores, " rejoined Florestan, seriously. "Now, my dear fellow, follow well my comparison; it is worthy of mymost brilliant days of rhetoric! Take a dry, sterile land, and dig awell into it; what happens? The smallest springs, the thinnest streamof subterranean water, the invisible tears of the earth, evaporated orlost until then without profit to anyone, will concentrate, drop bydrop, into the bottom of this well; little by little the water willincrease and rise, the reservoir will fill; then, if a beneficent handspreads this salutary spray liberally, verdure and blossoms will appearas if by enchantment on that hitherto unfruitful, desolate soil. Now, Louis, is not my comparison good? Is not the miser's hidden treasurelike this deep well, where, thanks to his obstinate and courageoussavings, riches accumulate drop by drop, forming a reservoir from whichmay spring luxury, splendors, magnificence and prodigalities of allsorts?"

"My dear Florestan, " said Louis, drawn from his grief by his friend'senthusiasm, "though my judgment of my father's conduct may have beeninfluenced by filial affection, your course of reasoning on the subjectof economy proves that I was not far wrong, at least. "

"You are indeed right, Louis; for if we take a philosophical view ofavarice, the miser is still more admirable. "

"This appears less just. "

"Do you not admit that, sooner or later, these riches, so laboriouslyamassed by the miser, will almost inevitably shower magnificences ofall sorts; for the proverb says: _A miserly father makes a prodigalson_. "

"I admit that prodigality is the usual dispenser of these long-hoardedtreasures; but where do you see philanthropy in that?"

"Where do I see it? Why, in everything! Do not the consequences ofluxury and magnificence bring ease and comfort to the hundreds offamilies that weave silks and laces, chisel gold and silver, carveprecious stones, build palaces, sculpture the ebony of furniture, varnish carriages, breed thoroughbred horses, and cultivate rareflowers? Have not artists, architects, musicians, singers, _danseuses_, all that is art, pleasure, poetry, enchantment, a largeshare of the gold shower that produces these wonders? And does notthis gold shower spring from that magical reservoir so slowly andperseveringly filled by the miser? Therefore, without the miser, weshould have no reservoir, no gold shower, and none of the marvels whichthis sparkling, beneficent dew alone can produce--Now, let us look atthe miser from a catholic point of view--"

"Look at the miser from a catholic point of view!" echoed Louis, inastonishment. 

"That is exactly where he is truly admirable, " rejoined Saint-Herem, imperturbably. 

"I confess that this theory seems to me difficult to sustain. "

"On the contrary, it is most simple. Is not abnegation one of thegreatest virtues known?"

"Undoubtedly. "

"Well, my dear Louis, I defy you to cite me a monastic order whosemembers practice the renouncement of worldly pleasures more absolutelyand sincerely than the miser. And his renouncement is truly the moreheroic, because he has within his grasp all the delights andenchantments of soul, mind and senses, and possesses the incrediblecourage to refuse them all. There is strength, there is the triumph ofan energetic will. "

"But you must take into consideration that avarice almost invariablystifles all other passions, and the renunciation is less difficult to amiser than to another. In depriving himself, he satisfies hispredominant passion. "

"Just so! And is not a power a great passion that will lead to suchrenunciation? But where the miser is truly sublime, is in hisdisinterestedness. "

"The miser's disinterestedness? You must be jesting, Florestan!"

"Yes, I repeat it, he is truly sublime in his disinterestedness! Themiser is perfectly aware that he is despised and execrated during life, and that his death will be greeted with delight by his heirs; yet, youcannot name a single one who has tried to make his treasure disappearwith him, with a view of avenging his wrongs. Two millions in banknotes may be turned to ashes in five minutes, and leave no trace; butno, these good-natured misers, full of magnanimity and forgiveness, forget their injuries and enrich their heirs. I know of nothingcomparable to the martyrdom of a miser; and it is not the torture of anhour, but of a lifetime. He knows that the treasure, amassed sopainfully and with so many privations, will never be enjoyed byhimself; that the fatal hour will come when this gold, which he lovesmore than life, shall be dissipated in riotous living, in foolishorgies, in the midst of which his name and memory shall, perhaps, bescoffed and insulted--and by his own son, alas! And yet he has nothought of punishing such insolent cupidity by destroying his treasure!Ah! believe me, Louis, avarice is a strong, mighty passion; and nothingthat is strong and great can be useless. God, in His infinite wisdom, did not create passions without an aim--that is, a power without itsuse. If he endowed misers with incredible concentration of will, it isbecause they have some mysterious purpose to achieve. I repeat it, allforces have and must have their expansion, all well-directed passionstheir fruitful issues. Let us suppose, for instance, that a ministerof finance should bring to the management and economy of public affairsthat inflexibility which characterizes the miser; would not manywonders result from such avarice? Though Fouquet ruined the financesof France, never was the country more flourishing than under Colbert;without this avaricious minister, the prodigalities of Louis XIV wouldhave been impossible; and all those marvels of magnificence, of art andpoetry, would have remained unknown. As you see, all is linked, enchained together; each cause produces its effect; the prodigality ofLouis XIV is the consequence of the avarice of Colbert. "

"Remember, Florestan, " said Louis, sadly, "that while this _greatking_, whose memory I have always abhorred, was ruining the country byhis insolent prodigalities, the heavily-taxed people were living inatrocious servitude to provide for the bold ostentations of Louis XIV, his mistresses and their children. And what misery still exists in ourdays! Ah! if you knew what a life of wretchedness Mariette hasendured! Although the poor child is strong and courageous, the sightof such frightful destitution would fill your heart with bitterresentment. "

"What will you, I am a philanthropist in my own way; I take things asthey come, and, as I cannot do better, I spend to my last farthing. None can accuse me of encouraging the idleness of luxurious industries. "

"I do not accuse your generous heart, my friend; the man who spends hismoney liberally or foolishly, provides work for the poor, and work isbread--yet, you laud avarice. "

"My dear fellow, who would appreciate the excellence of arms, if notthe warrior? The excellence of a horse, if not the cavalier? Theexcellence of a lute, if not the player? Paganini, as pope, would havecanonized Stradivarius, the maker of those wonderful violins, which thegreat artist plays so admirably. Therefore, as I have the presumptionof playing admirably with millions, I would canonize my uncle, thatheroic martyr of avarice, if distributive justice would only place inmy hands the wonderful instruments of prodigality he is manufacturingby hoarding his money. "

"Ah! heavens!" cried Louis, suddenly gazing at his friend with ahorrified expression. 

"What is it?" asked Saint-Herem, quietly. 

"Don't you know?"

"Know what?"

"True enough, M. Ramon decided to come to Paris very suddenly. "

"Is my uncle in Paris?"

"Ah! Florestan, what strange things happen in this world--"

"What do you mean?"

"And to think that I should be the one to announce it, after theconversation we have just had together!--It is, indeed, most strange!"

"But what in the deuce have you to announce? And what is there sostrange about it?"

"I have told you that my father had arranged a marriage between yourcousin and myself. "

"Yes, what then?"

"Being in ignorance of my refusal, and wishing to hasten a marriage hedesired as ardently as my father, your uncle and his daughter leftDreux yesterday and arrived this morning--"

"In Paris. Well, what of it? Why this hesitation and embarrassment onyour part, my dear Louis?"

"They did not come directly to Paris, but stopped at Versailles--atVersailles--where my poor father went--"

At this thought, which revived all his grief for his father's terribledeath, Louis again broke into sobs. 

"My dear friend, I understand your bitter grief, " said Florestan, movedby his friend's emotion, "but try to be more courageous. "

"If I hesitate in speaking more clearly, " resumed the young man, whenhe had wiped away his tears, "it is because, in this hour of sorrow andmourning, I feel to be painfully affected in seeing thesatisfaction--very excusable perhaps--which the announcement I have tomake will no doubt cause you. "

"In heaven's name, Louis, explain yourself!" entreated Saint-Herem, inalarm. 

"As I have already told you, my father went to Versailles to meet youruncle and his daughter. "

"And then?"

"They must have taken the train together, entered the samecompartment--and--"

"My God!--it would be too horrible!" cried Florestan, burying his facein his hands. 

The cry of horror and compassion was so spontaneous and sincere, thatLouis was touched by this proof of kindness of heart on the part of hisfriend, whose first impulse had been a sentiment of generouscommiseration, and not of cynical, covetous joy. 

CHAPTER XIV. 

A long interval of silence followed, which Louis was the first to break. 

"I cannot tell you how your grief touches me, Florestan, " he said, witheffusion, "it is so much in sympathy with what I feel at this sadmoment. "

"What will you, my friend; as you are aware, I had but little affectionfor my uncle, and could jest concerning his inheritance when I believedhim in perfect health. But it would require a heart of stone and anoutrageous cupidity to feel no sorrow at the terrible fate which myuncle and his daughter may have met. As to what I have said ofavarice, that passion whose consequences are so fruitful, I retractnothing; only I might have treated the subject more seriously had Iknown it to be a personal question. But I have, at least, proved thatI am not of those who receive an inheritance with cynical joy. Now, mydear Louis, forgive me if I ask a question which may revive your grief. In the painful researches made by you to recover your father's remains, did anything lead you to hope that my uncle and his daughter might haveescaped?"

"All I can say, Florestan, is, that I did not see them among theinjured or dying. As to the victims whose fate they and my father musthave shared, their features are unrecognizable. "

"As they must have been with your father, they probably shared hisfate. However, I shall write to Dreux and make active researches. Ifyou hear of anything new, let me know--But, in the midst of all thesesad incidents, I am forgetting Mariette--"

"It was only a cruel misunderstanding, as you suspected. I found hermore affectionate and devoted than ever. "

"Her love will be a precious consolation in your sorrow--Now, good-bye, my poor Louis. Remember that you may always trust in my affection andfriendship for you. "

"Ah! Florestan, were it not for your friendship and Mariette's love, Iknow not how I could bear this crushing blow. Good-bye, my friend, andlet me know all you can discover concerning your uncle. "

Once alone, Louis pondered long over what he should do. Finally, coming to a determination, he placed the gold he had discovered into atraveling bag, thrust the will into his pocket, and at once proceededto the office of his employer, the notary and friend mentioned by hisfather. 

The notary was much affected by the details of the probable death ofhis client and, having expressed his sympathy to Louis, promised tofulfill all the legal formalities necessary to establish the death ofthe old miser. 

"There remains one question I wish to ask, " said Louis, when all thearrangements had been agreed upon. "When all these sad formalitieshave been gone through, can I dispose of my father's possessions?"

"Most assuredly, my dear Louis, " replied the notary. 

"These, then, are my intentions. I have brought you a sum of moneyamounting to over two hundred thousand francs, which I found hidden ina drawer; with this gold I wish to assure a pension of twelve hundredfrancs to the godmother of my fiance. "

"But is the young girl in a position that--" interrupted the notary. 

"The young girl in question earns her own bread, " broke in Louis in histurn. "But I love her, and no power on earth can prevent me frommarrying her, " he concluded, in a firm, resolute tone. 

"Very well, " assented the notary, realizing the uselessness of hisobservations; "the pension shall be paid to the person indicated byyou. "

"Besides, I will take about fifteen thousand francs to fit up asuitable home, " added Louis. 

"Only fifteen thousand francs!" exclaimed the notary, astonished at themodest request. "Will it be sufficient?"

"My fiance and myself have been accustomed to a life of labor andpoverty, and our ambitions have never gone beyond an existence ofmodest comfort. An income of a thousand crowns per annum, joined toour own earnings, will therefore amply suffice for our wants. "

"Joined to your earnings! What do you mean to do?"

"Remain in your office, if I have not derogated in your estimation. "

"What! Work, with an income of over a hundred thousand livres?"

"I cannot yet believe that this large fortune is mine, my dear friend;and even though my poor father's death may be established according tolegal formalities, I shall always retain a hope that I may again seehim. "

"My poor Louis, your hope is an illusion. "

"It is an illusion I shall retain as long as possible, monsieur; andwhile it lasts I shall never feel free to dispose of my father's money, save within the limits I have mentioned. "

"No son could act with more perfect, and honorable reserve, my dearLouis. But what will you do with the rest of the inheritance?"

"So long as there remains the slightest hope of finding my father amongthe living, you will remain the trustee of his possessions. "

"I can only express my admiration for you, my dear Louis. You couldnot better honor the memory of your father than in acting thus. Everything shall be as you desire; I accept your trust, and will managethe estate as in the past; and I shall this very day make out thecontract for the life pension you have mentioned. "

"Speaking of that subject, my dear friend, I must enter into detailsthat will seem trifling to you, but which, nevertheless, have theirpainful side. "

"Well?"

"The poor woman to whom this pension is to be given has been so cruellytried during her long existence, that her character, though naturallygenerous, has become embittered and distrustful; a promise of happinesswould be vain in her eyes, unless accompanied by palpable, materialproof--therefore, to convince this unfortunate creature of the realityof the pension promised, I shall take with me the sum of fifteenthousand francs in gold, which represents the capital of her lifeincome. It is the only means of convincing her of my good intentionstoward her. "

"Nothing is more simple, my dear Louis, " acquiesced the notary. "Takewhat you desire, and rest assured that the papers will be drawn thisvery day. "

After a cordial pressure of the hand, Louis left the old notary andturned in the direction of Mariette's home. 

CHAPTER XV. 

Louis found Mariette working patiently beside her godmother, who wasapparently sound asleep in her bed and oblivious of her unfortunate lotfor a few moments, at least. 

The young man's extreme pallor, the alteration of his features andtheir painful expression, struck Mariette at once and filled her withgrave apprehensions. 

"My God! something has happened, Louis!" she cried, coming quicklytoward him. 

"Yes, something terrible has happened, Mariette, " he said sadly. "Haveyou heard of the terrible accident on the Versailles road?"

"Yes, what a frightful thing! They say there was a large number ofvictims, " she rejoined, with a shudder. 

"My father was of the number, " he added, simply. 

The words had scarcely passed his lips, when he felt two soft armsencircle his neck and hot tears inundating his cheeks, while the younggirl sobbed as though her heart would break. The two young peopleremained thus clasped in each other's arms for several moments withoututtering a word. Louis was the first to break the painful silence. 

"My darling, " he said, "you know what deep affection existed between myfather and myself--you can understand my despair. "

"Your loss is terrible, Louis. "

"Your love is my only consolation, Mariette; and I shall ask a newproof--"

"You have but to command--my heart is yours. "

"We must marry within the shortest possible delay. "

"Ah! Louis! can you doubt my answer for a moment? Is this the newproof of love that you ask?" she said, half reproachfully. Then, aftera moment of reflection, she added sadly: "Yet we cannot marry beforethe end of your mourning. "

"My dear Mariette, pray do not let such a scruple stand between us. "

"I shall do as you wish. "

"Listen, Mariette, " said the young man, earnestly: "true mourning isthat of the soul, and with me it will endure long beyond the timelimited by society and the world in general. My heart is crushed withsorrow, and I can honor the memory of my father without conforming tocustoms of propriety. And believe me, my darling, a marriagecontracted under the painful impressions caused by my sad loss, willappear more solemn and sacred than if contracted under othercircumstances. "

"You may be right, Louis; yet it is customary to wait, " ventured theyoung girl. 

"My dear Mariette, shall my father be less deeply regretted because youare my wife, and weep over his death with me, because you are wearingmourning for him and are attached to his memory by a tender link?Besides, my darling, in my grief and isolation, I cannot live withoutyou--I would die. "

"I am only a poor working girl, ignorant of the ways of the world, andcan only express what I feel, Louis, " rejoined Mariette, unable toresist his pleadings. "The reasons you plead for an early marriageseem good to me. I may be wrong, or I may, perhaps, be influenced bymy longing to be yours; but I know that I can accede to an immediatemarriage without regret or remorse. And yet, it seems to me my heartis as tender as others--"

"Yes, and more ungrateful, too!" interrupted a harsh voice; and Mme. Lacombe sat bolt upright in her bed, glaring fiercely at the astoundedyoung couple. "Ah! yes, " she went on, sarcastically, "you thought theold woman sound asleep, and took advantage of it to talk of yourwedding. But I heard every word of it. "

"There was not a word which you might not hear; madame, " observedLouis, gravely. "Mariette and myself retract nothing we have said. "

"The deuce!--I believe it--you think of nothing but yourself. You cantalk of nothing but that accursed marriage. As for me--I might as wellbe in my grave--"

"Allow me to interrupt you, madame, " broke in Louis, "and prove that Ihave not forgotten my promise. "

As he spoke, he took a small wooden box from the table, where he hadlaid it on entering, and deposited it on the bed with the key. 

"Open it, " he said; "all it contains is yours. "

The old woman picked up the key suspiciously, opened the box and peeredin. 

"Great heavens!" she cried in amazement, dazzled by the glitteringcontents. Then plunging her hand among the shining pieces, she tossedthem about, jingling them together and allowing them to slip throughher fingers in a golden shower, muttering covetously:

"Ah! what gold! what gold!--all good and sound, too!--Heavens! whatbeautiful pieces! What a big sum they must make!"

Turning the box over, she gathered the coins into a dazzling pile andadded with a sigh:

"That would bring comfort and ease to two poor women like Mariette andme for a lifetime!"

"Those fifteen thousand francs are yours, madame, " observed Louis. 

"Mine!" she cried, "mine!" then shaking her head incredulously, sheresumed sharply; "That's it, laugh at a poor old woman--why can't youleave 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 francsfor you, " declared the young man, "that you may be independent afterour 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 oncefor all, " growled the irritable Mme. Lacombe. "Do you imagine I wouldsell myself for money?"

"Dear godmother, " cried Mariette, throwing her arms about the woman'sneck, "don't say we want to get rid of you! Louis had no thought ofhumiliating you with the money, he merely did what you requested. "

"I know it; but what will you, child, " she said, softened in spite ofherself. "It was the fear of starving in the streets, the fear ofseeing you unhappily married that suggested the idea of a pension tome. I know that I have no right to expect such a thing, but one cannever imagine what terror is inspired by the thought of being cast intothe streets penniless, old and infirm as I am!--All I want is a poormattress in a corner, a crust of bread, and the sight of Mariette'ssweet face. I am so accustomed to see her come and go in this wretchedroom, that if she were not there I would think myself shut up in a darktomb. And besides, she is the only person in the world who could bekind to me--all I ask is to remain with Mariette. That pile of golddazzled 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 manoffered me gold for Mariette the other day, I was not humiliated--I wasonly furious. But now, here I am weeping; and Mariette knows I havenot shed a tear for the last ten years. Bitterness may eat away theheart, 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 inmodest 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 readtheir inmost thoughts. 

At this new proof of invincible distrust, the young people exchanged alook of compassion; then, taking the sick woman's hand in hers, Mariette said tenderly: "Yes, dear godmother, we shall keep you alwayswith us, and nurse you as we would our own mother; you shall see howhappy we shall make life to you--"

"Yes, we shall make your life a dream of happiness, " added Louis, affectionately. 

The voice, accent, expression and earnestness of the two young peoplewould have convinced the most skeptic; but alas! an absolute, completebelief in sudden happiness could not penetrate this poor soul so longcorroded by suffering. 

"I believe you, my children, " she said, with a suppressed sigh, tryingto hide her involuntary doubt. "Yes, I believe Monsieur Louis has themoney; I believe that you both feel some affection for me, also--butyou know, a new broom sweeps clean! People are willing enough atfirst, but things change with time. Besides, I may be in the way;newly married people love to be alone, and an old grumbler like mespoils the beauty of a cozy house. You will be afraid of my sharpwords, grow weary of me, or--"

"Ah! godmother, do you still doubt us?" cried Mariette, reproachfully. 

"You must forgive me, my children, but it is stronger than myself, "rejoined the unhappy woman, bursting into sobs. "But then, " she added, with a forced smile, "it may be better so; for if I were to suddenlybelieve in happiness, after more than fifty years of sorrow and misery, I would surely go mad. And upon my word, it would not surprise me, "she concluded bitterly, "it would be just my luck. "

CHAPTER XVI. 

Five years had glided by since the eventful incidents related in thepreceding chapters, and another anniversary of the Versailles disasterhad been added to the list. 

It was about nine o'clock in the evening, and a tall, slender brunette, of elegant form and figure, whose beautiful face expressed intelligenceand firmness both, was giving the finishing touches to a dazzlingtoilette. She was assisted in this serious and important occupation bytwo skillful maids, one of whom was clasping a necklace of large, sparkling diamonds around the white throat of her charming mistress, while the other adjusted a magnificent diadem of the same preciousstones on the raven black hair. 

The choice of these diamonds had evidently been made after muchdeliberation, for a number of jewel cases, containing pearls, rubies, and other precious ornaments of enormous value, still lay open on atoilet table near by. 

One of the maids, being much older than her companion, and having beenin the service of her mistress for many years, seemed to enjoy acertain degree of familiarity near the countess--who was a Russian aswell as herself--which permitted her many observations not usuallytolerated from her class. 

"Does madame like the diadem as it is now?" she asked in her own tongue. 

"Well enough, " replied Countess Zomaloff, nonchalantly, casting a lastglance at the large mirror before her. "Where is my bouquet?"

"Here, madame. "

"Heavens! how frightfully yellow and faded it is!" cried the countess, shrinking back. 

"The duke has just sent it, " ventured the maid. 

"I recognize his good taste, " said the countess sarcastically, as sheshrugged her pretty shoulders disdainfully. "I would wager the flowerswere ordered yesterday morning by some lover who broke off with hismistress during the day, and consequently did not call for them in theevening. The Duke de Riancourt is the only man in the world capable ofdiscovering such bargains!"

"Ah! madame, can you believe he would economize to that point?"protested the maid. "He is so rich!"

"That makes it only the more probable. "

A rap on the door of the boudoir adjoining the dressing-room, interrupted the conversation, and the French maid vanished, returningalmost immediately with the information that the duke had arrived andwas at madame's orders. 

"Let him wait, " observed the countess carelessly. "Is the princess inthe drawing-room?"

"Yes, madame. "

"Very well--here Katinka, clasp this bracelet, " resumed the countess, addressing the Russian maid in her own language once more, "and seewhat time it is. "

Katinka turned to the clock and was opening her lips to reply, when hermistress forestalled her by saying, with a mocking smile:

"After all, why should I make such an inquiry. The duke has justarrived, half-past nine must--"

The half-hour stroke from the clock on the chimney interrupted her, andshe broke into a merry, rippling laugh. 

"What did I tell you, Katinka, " she laughed, "the duke is a veritableclock in exactitude. "

"It proves his love and devotion, madame, " rejoined the maid. 

"I would prefer a less well-regulated love, Katinka, " retorted thecountess. "These persons who worship at fixed hours seem to have awatch where the heart ought to be. There now, I am almost sorry to beso completely dressed and ready, and to have no excuse to make thatpoor duke wait longer to reward him for his pitiless exactitude. "

"But, madame, " remonstrated the maid, "if you dislike him so, why doyou marry him?"

"Why?" echoed the countess, absent-mindedly, giving another glance atthe mirror; "why do I marry M. De Riancourt? Really, Katinka, you aremore inquisitive than I am; does one ever know why one marries?"

"Everybody seems to think there exist excellent reasons for thismarriage, nevertheless, " pursued Katinka. "Although M. De Riancourthas no gold mines in Crimea, silver mines in the Ural Mountains, diamond--"

"In mercy, Katinka, don't go over the list of my riches!" cried thecountess, impatiently. 

"Well, madame, although the duke has not your immense possessions, heis one of the wealthiest and greatest noblemen in France; he is youngand handsome, has never led a dissipated life, and--"

"And he is worthy of wearing a wreath of orange blossoms on our weddingday--a right which I have not; but, in heaven's name, spare me hisvirtues. My aunt sounds his praises loud enough without assistance. "

"Yes, the princess is very fond of monsieur le duc, and she is not theonly one who--"

"Give me a cloak, " interrupted her mistress, "the night is chilly. "

"Has madame given her orders for the twentieth of the month?" went onthe persistent maid. 

"What orders?"

"Has madame forgotten that her marriage takes place a week from to-day?"

"What! a week from to-day?--so soon!"

"Madame fixed the date for May 20, and this is May 12--"

"If I said the twentieth, I suppose it must be on the twentieth--giveme my fan. "

The maid brought a collection of magnificent fans and placed thembefore her mistress to allow her to make a choice. 

"How singular, " murmured the countess, half to herself, as she pickedout a veritable Watteau from the rich collection; "I am young and free, and abhor constraint, yet I have chosen a master. "

"A master!" exclaimed Katinka. "Why, the duke is so good and kind, madame! You will make whatever you wish of him. "

"I shall never make an agreeable man of him; and yet, I shall marryhim. Ah! my good aunt, your advice may cause me to commit a greatfolly, " she added, half laughing, half serious, as she gazedmechanically at the mischievous little god of love on her fan. "I madea blind choice among men equal in rank and riches, all so mediocre anduninteresting that it mattered not which I chose. This was the motiveof my preference for M. De Riancourt, Katinka. Besides, althoughmarriage has its inconveniences, widowhood has still greater ones. So, it is the better to marry, after all; it saves the trouble of wonderingwhat we shall do. "

Having thus summarily settled this question, Countess Zomaloffproceeded to the drawing-room, where she found her aunt and the dukeawaiting her. 

Princess Wileska was a tall, distingué woman, with powdered hair andimposing presence, who presented a striking contrast to the meagrepersonage engaged in conversation with her. The Duke de Riancourt wasa small, nervous man of thirty years or thereabouts, with asanctimonious, unctuous mien, shifting eyes and long, smooth hair, carefully parted near the middle of the forehead, and a rigidity ofmovement that showed great empire over himself. 

As the countess entered, he advanced toward her slowly, bowed low andraised her pretty hand to his lips with respectful courtesy; then, straightening himself up, he gazed at her for a moment as if dazzled, and cried, admiringly: "Ah! countess, I have never seen thesediamonds! I don't believe you could find their equal anywhere. Heavens! how beautiful, how magnificent they are!"

"Really, my dear duke, " rejoined the countess, with well feignedembarrassment, "I am much confused--that is, for the jeweler who soldthem to me--one could never be more gallant than you; and since thesediamonds cause you so much tender emotion, inspire such graciouscompliments, such ingenious flattery, I can do no less than confide toyou the charming name of the bewitching lapidary--his name is _EzechielRabotautencraff_, and he resides in Frankfort. "

While the amazed duke was searching a reply to this sarcastic sally, the princess gave a reproachful glance to her niece; then, turning tothe discomfited nobleman with a forced smile, said playfully:

"How much Foedora does like to tease you, my dear duke. This is herway of showing her affection to those she loves. "

"I will humbly confess, my dear princess, " said the duke, anxious torepair his awkward blunder, "that I was so dazzled by those magnificentstones that, for a moment, I forgot to render homage to the charms ofthe wearer. But--but--may not one be dazzled by the sun while gazingat a charming flower?"

"I find your comparison of the sunstroke and the flower so gallant andto the point, " retorted the malicious young woman, "that I am temptedto believe it was this very same sunstroke that so outrageouslywithered these poor flowers, " and a gay ripple of laughter broke fromher lips, as she pointed to the faded blossoms sent by the duke thatevening. 

The unfortunate man flushed to the roots of his hair, while theprincess frowned at her irrepressible niece. 

"Pray offer your arm to my aunt, my dear duke, " resumed the countess, totally indifferent to the divers emotions she had caused. 

"I promised the embassadress de Sardaigne I would come early, as she isto present me to a relative, and, as you know, we must first visit thatenchanted palace you spoke of, in all its details. This is an odd timefor such a visit, it is true; but I admit I have a weakness or, rather, a passion, for anything odd. Originality is such a rare, charmingthing!"

Preceding her aunt and the duke, the bewitching countess ran lightlydown the wide stairs of the elegantly furnished house she had rented inthe Rue de Rivoli, while in search of the mansion she wished topurchase in Paris. 

On that evening the duke was to take his friends out in his owncarriage; a very permissible liberty, since the bans of his marriagewith the countess had already been published. After a few moments ofwaiting at the door of the mansion, the aunt and niece saw an enormousyellow landau advancing toward them, drawn by two emaciated horsesmercilessly lashed by a coachman in red and blue livery. 

"Why--this is not your carriage?" gasped the countess, gazing at theduke in amazement as the footman opened the _portière_ of the vehicle. 

"Certainly, madame, " he replied. "And what has become of that prettyblue victoria, with the dapple grays, you placed at our disposalyesterday morning?"

"Under the present condition of affairs, my dear countess, I may aswell make a clean breast of it, " rejoined the duke, with touching_abandon_. "That I may not fatigue my valuable horses--for they didcost me enormously--I hire a carriage for the evening. This is a greatpoint of economy, for it is always a risk to take out a valuableturnout at night. "

"You are perfectly right, my dear duke, " the princess hastened to say, fearing a new sarcasm from her niece; and, without further ado, sheentered the heavy, lumbering thing, leaning on the arm of her escort. 

The duke then offered his hand to the countess to assist her in herturn; but she stopped with one dainty foot resting on the last step, and peered curiously within. 

"My dear aunt, " she said sweetly, "will you be kind enough to examinethe carriage well?"

"Why, my dear, " asked the princess naïvely. 

"Because I am afraid some freckled, red-headed miss, or some fat citymerchant may have been forgotten in some obscure corner of this thing. These worthy people usually drive out in family parties in just suchequipages, and I have a horrible fear of finding some of them under theseats. "

"Really, Foedora, I fail to understand you, " returned the princess, angrily, while her niece sank in the seat beside her with a laugh. "You are absurdly severe toward M. De Riancourt--what can you bethinking of?"

"I want to cure him of his meanness and impudence, " retorted thecountess, coolly. "Could I better prove my interest in him?"

At that moment the duke entered the carriage and took his seat oppositethe princess and her niece. Though he seemingly endured with the mostChristianly patience all the railleries of the young woman whopossessed all kinds of precious mines, the furtive glance he cast onher now and then, and the contraction of his thin lips, betrayed therancour that filled his heart and foreboded no good for the future. 

"To the Ramon mansion, " he ordered the footman, who stood at the door. 

"Beg pardon, monsieur, but I don't know where it is, " replied the man, respectfully. 

"At the end of the _Cours-la-Reine_, in the direction of the quartier_Jean-Gonjan_, " explained the duke. 

"Monsieur means that large mansion which has been in course ofconstruction for so many years?"

"That very place, " assented the duke. 

The footman closed the carriage door, gave his instructions to thecoachman, who lashed his jaded horses, and the lumbering landau startedin the direction of _Cours-la-Reine_, where the marvelous Saint-Ramonmansion was situated. 

CHAPTER XVII. 

The heavy vehicle rolled on so slowly, that a pedestrian walking in thesame direction, easily kept up with it through the whole length of the_Cours-la-Reine_, although he seemed anything but nimble footed. 

He was poorly dressed and leaned painfully on his stick; his long beardwas white, as well as his hair and bushy eyebrows, and the dark colorof his wrinkled face gave him the appearance of a mulatto. 

As the landau approached the Saint-Ramon mansion, however, the coachmanwas forced to take his place in the long procession of carriages goingin the same direction, thus permitting the pedestrian to gain a certaindistance ahead. 

The old mulatto continued his way slowly to the entrance of abroadavenue, encumbered with a long line of carriages and almost dazzlingwith bright colored lights, and paused in amazement at the gate. 

"Why are these grounds so brilliantly illuminated?" he asked a curiouslooker-on. 

"In honor of the opening of the wonderful _Saint-Ramon_ mansion, "replied the man addressed. 

"_Saint Ramon_!" repeated the old man, softly, as if speaking tohimself. "How strange!"

He seemed buried in reflections for a few minutes, then turning oncemore to the man he had already addressed, he asked with evidentcuriosity:

"Can you tell me anything about this mansion, monsieur?"

"People say it is the eighth wonder of the world; and upon my word, itmust be wonderful; the work has been going on for five years, "responded the man. 

"To whom does it belong?"

"To a young millionaire, who has spent his money lavishly and veryfoolishly, I believe. "

"Do you know his name?"

"I believe the name is Saint Harem or Saint-Herem--"

"There is no more doubt, " murmured the old man. "But why should hename it _Saint-Ramon_?"

Again he seemed buried in sad reflections, until aroused from hisreverie by his companion's voice. 

"How singular, after all, " the man was saying. "A rich marquis shouldknow only people with equipages; and yet, outside of two or three goodcarriages, the whole procession consists of _fiacres and cabriolets_. "

"Singular, indeed, " repeated the old man. "But can you tell me thetime?"

"Half-past-ten, " the man informed him. 

"I am to be at Chaillot at midnight only, " said the old man to himself. "It leaves me ample time to investigate this mystery. What a strangecoincidence. "

After some hesitation, the old man entered the gate, glided into theobscurity of a by-path shaded by secular elm-trees, and walked ontoward the mansion. Notwithstanding his evident preoccupation, hecould not help remarking the immense quantity of flowers that bankedthe main avenue, their thousand variegated colors illuminated by aprofusion of many-hued lanterns and glittering glass candelabra of allshapes and shades. 

This fairy-land avenue ended in a vast hemicycle as brightlyilluminated, beyond which arose the _Saint Ramon_ mansion, a veritablepalace which, by the beauty and grandeur of its architecture, recalledthe most brilliant days of the Renaissance. 

Crossing the hemicycle, the old man reached an immense porch leading tothe peristyle. Through the glass doors that enclosed this antechamberin all its length, he could see an army of powdered footmen inmagnificent livery, while around him a continual stream of carriagesunloaded a multitude of men, women and young girls, whose extremesimplicity of toilet seemed in little harmony with the splendors ofthis enchanted palace. 

Urged on by an invincible curiosity, the old mulatto followed the everincreasing throng into the peristyle; then passing through a double rowof footmen, in resplendent blue and silver liveries, and standing asimpassible as soldiers, he finally reached the reception room, whereanother army of servants in blue coats, black silk breeches and whitesilk stockings, stood in array. Although the modest appearance of theguests seemed little befitting the princely luxury of the house inwhich they were received, the stranger noticed, with some surprise, that the most respectful deference was shown to all. He paused but amoment here, however, passing almost immediately into the musicgallery, beyond which was an immense circular salon, surmounted by adome and forming the center of three other galleries which served asball room, banquet hall, and billiard room. These fourgalleries--including the music hall--were connected by wide passagespaved in rich mosaics and adorned with a profusion of exotic plants, while they were covered with glass domes, giving the whole theappearance of a hot-house. 

We shall not attempt to describe the splendor, elegance, noble grandeurand sumptuousness of the furnishings of these vast rooms, dazzling withgildings and paintings, sparkling with lights, crystals and flowers, reflected indefinitely by enormous mirrors, but will merely mention therare magnificence that gave this palace its royal, monumentalcharacter. The salon and galleries were adorned with allegoricalpaintings and sculptures that would have made the renown of the mostbeautiful castle in existence. The most illustrious artists of the dayhad contributed to this superb work. Ingrès, Delacroix, Scheffer, PaulDelaroche, and other future celebrities, such as Couture, Gerome, etc. , had been employed by the opulent and intelligent creator of thispalace. On the banquet table was displayed a marvel of silverwareworthy of the epoch of Benvenuto; candelabra, ewers, ice basins, fruitbowls, flower vases, all would have done honor to a musée by the richpurity of form and the precious finish and delicacy that characterizedeach piece. 

One odd peculiarity of the vast circular salon must not be omitted, however. Above a gigantic white marble chimney, a veritable monumentto the bold genius of David--our Michaël Angelo--were a number ofallegorical figures in relief, representing arts and industries, andsupporting a large oval frame incrusted in the entablature of thechimney. This frame enclosed a painting which might have beenattributed to Velasquez. It was the portrait of a pale man, with aharsh, austere countenance, hollow cheeks, sunken eyes, and high, polished forehead; a brown gown, half in the style of a dressing gownand half way resembling the gown of a monk, gave the figure theimposing character of those saints and martyrs so numerous in theSpanish school of painting; an appearance emphasized, moreover, by agold aureole which seemed to cast its dazzling reflections on theaustere, pensive face. Below, traced in large, Gothic letters in aspace formed by the foliage of the border, were these two words:

 SAINT RAMON. 

Still following the throng, the old mulatto finally found himselfbefore this chimney. At sight of the portrait, he stood for a momentin amazement; then, overcome by emotion, tears filled his eyes and hemurmured softly; "Poor friend! it is indeed he! But why the word_saint_ prefixed to his name? Why that aureole around his brow? Whythis mystic appearance? And besides, what a strange celebration!Though poorly dressed, and a stranger, I entered without meetingresistance, or even an inquiry. "

At this moment a servant bearing fruits and ices approached and offeredhim refreshments, which he refused; he was striving, but in vain, toguess what might be the condition of the people around him. All themen were modestly attired; some in black frock-coats, others in newblouses, while a few wore the customary evening dress; all maintained adiscreet reserve, though they expressed their delight to one another inlow voices; and yet, strange to say, far from appearing amazed at theriches accumulated in this palace, they seemed perfectly at ease andnot at all awed by the magnificence of their surroundings. 

The women and young girls, however, seemed more embarrassed andintimidated; they naively admired the splendor of the place andexchanged comments and observations in whispers. 

Anxious to penetrate this singular mystery, the old mulatto againapproached the chimney and joined a group of guests who werecontemplating the portrait of _Saint-Ramon_. 

"Do you see that portrait, Juliette?" a tall, robust man, with a goodnatured countenance, was asking his wife. "That good man is wellentitled to his name. There are many saints in Paradise who are mereidlers beside him, if we are to judge by the good he has done. "

"How is that, Michel?" queried the wife, inquisitively. 

"We owe these five years of well-paid work to this worthy man, mydear, " explained the husband. "Thanks to this M. Saint-Ramon, I haveearned sufficiently in the last few years to make us all happy andcontented, and save a great deal besides. "

"But, my dear Michel, " remonstrated the wife, "this is not the man whoordered and paid for the work. M. Saint-Herem did all that, and it washe who welcomed us so kindly when we came this evening. "

"That may be, Juliette. But whenever M. Saint Herem came into theplace to watch us at work, he never failed to say: 'My children, wereit not for the riches I have inherited, I could not give you this workand pay you as you deserve. You must therefore reserve all yourgratitude for the memory of the man who left me so much money; it washe who accomplished the hardest task, hoarding his wealth cent by cent, depriving himself of every comfort, while I have nothing to do butspend this treasure liberally. To spend is my duty! Of what use areriches, if not to do good! Remember the good old miser then, and blesshis avarice; it gives me the pleasure of giving you work in thebuilding of a magnificent monument, and to you it gives ample salaries, honestly earned!"

"All the same, Michel, we must not forget M. Saint-Herem and give him ashare of our gratitude. "

"You are right, Juliette. He is a noble young man, and he and hisuncle make a famous pair. "

The old mulatto had listened to this conversation with as much interestas astonishment, and as he wandered from group to group, he heardnothing but a chorus of praises and blessings in favor of Saint-Ramon, the worthy miser, and of his nephew, whose nobility of heart andliberality none could laud too highly. 

"Is it a dream?" mused the old man. "Who can believe that thesepraises are addressed to the memory of a miser--a memory usually cursedand execrated by the living! And can it be the heir of this miser, thedispenser of his wealth, who rehabilitates him thus? And why are theseworkmen invited to this inauguration? It must be a dream!"

But the old mulatto's amazement was still more augmented by anothersingular contrast at this moment. He had suddenly met a group of menin evening dress, with many decorations in their buttonholes, accompanied by women in elegant toilettes. A short distance further onwas Florestan Saint-Herem, more brilliant and gay than ever in thisatmosphere of luxury and splendor. He was standing at the extremity ofthe gallery adjoining the reception-room, welcoming his guests with theutmost grace and courtesy, greeting every one with a cordial smile andaddressing a few words of gracious affability to each woman or younggirl, charming and placing the most timid at their ease by hisunaffected sincerity. It was while accomplishing the duties of thismost admirable hospitality, that he caught his first glimpse of thebeautiful Countess Zomaloff, as she entered the first saloon, accompanied by Princess Wileska and the Duke de Riancourt. 

CHAPTER XVIII. 

Although he had long known the Duke de Riancourt, Florestan had nevermet the princess and her niece: but seeing him enter with the twoladies, he hastened toward him with a welcoming smile. 

"My dear Saint-Herem, " said the duke, "allow me to present PrincessWileska and the Countess Zomaloff. These ladies hope you will think itno indiscretion on their part if they visit your mansion and itswonders with me, according to the invitation you extended yesterday. "

"My dear duke, I am only too flattered by the honor of this visit, "replied the young man, "and I shall be very happy to show you what youare pleased to call the _wonders of this house_. "

"M. De Riancourt was right to speak of wonders, " rejoined MadameZomaloff, "for I admit that we are so dazzled by a first glance, thatwe can not conscientiously admire any one thing. "

"My dear Saint-Herem, " resumed the duke, "I may as well make a cleanbreast of it and admit that the countess' visit is not entirelydisinterested. I have told her of your intentions concerning thisplace, and as I am to have the pleasure and honor of bestowing my nameon the countess in a week, you understand that I cannot decide withouther approval--since, after all, I stand somewhat in the light of--of ahusband. "

"Really, madame, " observed Florestan gaily to the countess, "since theduke anticipates thus on his happiness, do you not think it only rightthat he should bear the whole consequences of his revelation?Therefore, as a husband never gives his arm to his wife, you mayperhaps do me the pleasure of accepting mine!"

By this sally Saint-Herem spared himself the obligation of offering hisarm to Princess Wileska, who, in his eyes, appeared a much lessagreeable companion than her beautiful niece. He therefore led the waywith the countess, while M. De Riancourt followed with the princess. 

"I have traveled much, " remarked the countess to her companion, "and Ihave never seen anything that could equal--not in magnificence, for anymillionaire can purchase magnificence with his money--but the marveloustaste which has presided over the construction of this place. It is averitable musée of splendors--allow me to pause and admire the superbpaintings of this ceiling. "

"After the admiration of the work comes the reward to the author; doesit not, madame?" returned Florestan with a smile. "One word from yourlips, countess, will make the artist, who painted this ceiling, thehappiest and proudest man in the universe, " he concluded, with a waveof the hand toward one of the most illustrious masters of the modernschool. 

"A thousand thanks for procuring me such good fortune, " replied thecountess, advancing toward the artist. 

"My dear friend, " said Florestan, "the Countess Zomaloff wishes toexpress to you all her admiration for your work. "

"Not my admiration only, but my gratitude also, " rejoined the youngwoman graciously. "The exquisite pleasure given by such amaster-piece, is a debt contracted toward its creator. "

"However precious and flattering such praises may be to me, " returnedthe artist, with a modesty marked by good taste, "I can only accept ashare of it. Pray allow me to place myself _hors de cause_, I can thenexpress myself more freely. For instance, let us take the painting ofthe concert gallery, which you will admire by and by; they are due toour Raphaël--M. Ingrès. Well, this monumental work, which in thefuture will furnish art pilgrims as much cause of admiration as themost beautiful frescoes of Rome, Pisa, or Florence, would perhaps neverhave existed were it not for my excellent friend Saint-Herem. Was itnot he who gave our French Raphael the subject of one of his immortalpages? Truly, madame, in these days of vulgar luxuries and brutalmagnificences, is it not a phenomenon to meet a _Medicis_, as in thebrightest epoch of Italian republics?"

"You are right, " said the countess, enthusiastically, "and history isjust in illustrating--"

"Forgive the interruption, countess, " laughed Florestan, "but I am asmodest as my illustrious friend; and for fear your admiration should bethrown away on an unworthy object, I shall point out the veritable_Medici_--This is he. "

As he spoke, he designated the portrait above the chimney. 

"What a pensive, austere face!" exclaimed the countess, gazing at thepainting with a feeling of mingled surprise and curiosity. Then, asher eyes fell on the inscription below, she added with increasedastonishment:

"Saint-Ramon?--Who is he?"

"A saint of my own, madame, " laughed Florestan. "He was my uncle; andalthough I am not yet a pope, I have taken the liberty to canonize thisadmirable man in recognition of his long martyrdom during life and themiracles he accomplished after his death. "

"His long martyrdom and his miracles!" echoed the countess. "You mustbe jesting, monsieur?"

"Not at all, madame. My uncle Ramon endured the most atrociousprivations during his long life, for he was pitilessly and sublimelyavaricious--this was his martyrdom. At his death, I inherited hisenormous wealth and conceived this prodigious work of art--these arehis miracles. I have sanctified his memory by gratitude--this is hiscanonization. As you see, it is a veritable legend taken from the_Lives of the Saints_. "

Struck by the originality of the young man, Madame Zomaloff remainedsilent for a moment, absorbed in deep meditation; while the duke, whountil then had loitered some distance behind, approached them. 

"My dear Florestan, " he said, "I have been very eager to address you areally odd question since my arrival. Who are all these people? Irecognize a few eminent artists, here and there, and a renownedarchitect, but none of the rest. The princess and myself have vainlysearched the key to the enigma. They are all quiet and reserved, andthe young girls appear very modest, while a few are really pretty; butI am anxious to learn to what class of society they belong!"

"Since M. De Riancourt has the courage to ask you so indiscreet aquestion, " broke in the countess, "I shall admit that I share hiscuriosity. "

"You have no doubt remarked, " said Florestan, with a smile, "that thepersons assembled here this evening do not belong to what we call thearistocracy--"

"True, indeed. "

"Yet, madame, a few moments ago you were happy to meet the great artistwho designed the dome you so much admired, were you not?"

"Indeed, the meeting caused me great pleasure, I assure you. "

"I believe you also approve me for inviting him, as well as many of hiscolleagues, to the inauguration of their united work?"

"The invitation certainly seemed almost a duty on your part, monsieur. "

"Well, madame, this duty, inspired by gratitude, I have fulfilledtoward all who have contributed to the construction of this house, fromthe greatest artist to the most humble workman. All are here withtheir families, to enjoy the splendors they have created. Is it notjust that the skillful and obscure man who chiseled the golden cupshould moisten his lips in it, once, at least, in his life?"

"What!" cried the duke in stupefaction, "these are carpenters, gilders, blacksmiths, paper-hangers, ebonists, masons!--even masons! Why, it isabsurd, impossible, incredible!"

"My dear duke, do you know the habits of the bees?" queried Florestan. 

"Very little, " replied the duke stiffly. 

"Their habits are most savage and impertinent, my dear duke. Thoseinsolent creatures--under the fabulous pretext that they haveconstructed their hives--have the impudence to inhabit them. And, whatis more shocking still, they claim their right to the sweet honey onwhich they have so steadily and intelligently labored through theseason--"

"Well, and what do you conclude from that?"

"I conclude from it that, through gratitude at least, we should allowthe poor, laboring human bees the innocent pleasure of inhabiting for asingle day the gilded hive they have built for idle drones like us, whoenjoy the honey gathered by others. "

The countess, who had drawn a little apart, now again placed her handon Florestan's arm and gently led him a little away from her aunt andM. De Riancourt. 

"Monsieur de Saint-Herem, " she said with emotion, as they walked slowlyon, "your idea is not only charming, but of a touching delicacy. I amno longer astonished at the air of contentment which pervades aroundus, and which I have remarked on the features of your guests. The moreI think of it, the more generous and just it seems to me. After all, as you say, this is the work of these laborers, and you have honoredand dignified labor by this fête. From your point of view, thismansion must be far more than an object of art and luxury to you, formany precious souvenirs are attached to its creation. "

"You are right, madame. "

"Then--"

"Go on, madame, "

"I cannot understand why--"

"Why do you hesitate? Pray, explain your thought!"

There was a moment of silence, then she resumed, with someembarrassment:

"Two days ago, in speaking of the difficulty of purchasing a mansion aslarge and sumptuous as I desired, M. De Riancourt recalled the factthat you wished to sell this property. "

"Yes; the duke wrote to me, requesting permission to visit the house. I begged him to wait till this evening, as he could then see thereception-rooms to more advantage--but I did not then anticipate thehonor of receiving you. "

"Monsieur de Saint-Herem, " she said, still hesitatingly, "you have beenvery indulgent to me--will you allow me one more question?"

"Indulgence in this instance has been so sweet and agreeable to me, that I shall thank you for the opportunity of exercising it once more. What is it?"

"How can you have the courage, or, rather--I shall use a very harshword, I fear--how can you have the ingratitude to leave this house, which you have created with so much love, and to which are attached somany kind, generous souvenirs?"

"Upon my word, madame!" he replied carelessly, as if he were saying themost natural thing in the world, "I must sell this mansion because I amruined, completely ruined. This is my last day of good fortune andwealth, and you must admit, madame, that, thanks to your presence here, this day could not have a more brilliant or happier evening!"

CHAPTER XIX. 

Florestan de Saint-Herem had uttered the words "I am ruined" with somuch simplicity and carelessness that the countess gazed at himdumbfounded for a moment, unable to believe what she had heard. 

"What!" she finally gasped, "you are--"

"Ruined! completely ruined!" he repeated. "My uncle left me fivemillions five years ago; I have spent it all, plus eighteen hundredthousand francs. The sale of this mansion, however, with itsfurniture, paintings, silver, etc. , will pay my debts and leave me inpossession of about a hundred thousand francs. With that I shallretire to some smiling country place and turn shepherd; a charmingcontrast, especially when I recall my past existence. What marvelous, impossible dreams--changed into realties for myself, my friends, mymistresses--my gilded whirlwind carried in my train! What renown ismine! how all that was beautiful, elegant, sumptuous, _recherché_, wasswallowed up in my dazzling orbit! Would you believe, madame, that myreputation for liberality had spread over Europe? Nay, more; aChandernagor lapidary sent me an Indian saber with its handle studdedwith gems, enclosing a pretty, laconic note in these words: 'Thiscimeter belonged to Tippo-Saëb; it should belong to M. Saint-Herem. The weapon is worth twenty-five thousand francs, payable at theRothschild house, in Paris. Received twenty-five thousand francs. 'Yes; the rarest and most precious objects of art were naively addressedto me from all parts of the world; the finest horses walked into mystables, the most exquisite wines filled my cellars; the mostillustrious chefs fought for the privilege of serving me, and thecelebrated Dr. Gasterini--do you know him, madame?"

"Who has not heard of the most famous gourmand the world has everknown?"

"Well, madame, that great man proclaimed that he had eaten as good adinner in my house as in his own--a compliment he could not pay, evento the table of M. De Talleyrand. Ah! madame, what a grand, complete, beautiful life! And women! Ah! women!"

"Monsieur!--"

"Fear not, madame, I shall speak of women only as objects of art. Andreally, can there exist a more charming pretext for magnificence?Luxury is but the accessory; a woman is so pretty, adorned andsurrounded by all the products of art. Believe me, madame, I have thecertainty of having ruined myself generously, nobly and intelligently. I have neither a foolish expense nor a wicked action to reproachmyself! It is with a mind full of delicious souvenirs, a heart full ofserenity, that I see my fortune take wings!"

His tone was so sincere, the truth of his words and sentiments were sostrongly expressed on his loyal, handsome face, that the countess couldnot but be convinced of the reality of all he said. 

"I must admit, monsieur, " she observed softly, "that such philosophyconfounds me! Now that the hour of renouncing such a life is at hand, not a word of bitterness escapes your lips!"

"Words of bitterness! after so much joy and happiness? Ah, madame, that would be blasphemy!"

"You leave this enchanted palace without regret, without even a sigh, and at the very moment when you would have enjoyed it?"

"What will you, madame? I did not believe myself so near the end untila week ago, when my rascally steward showed me my accounts, and Iresign myself to the inevitable with a good grace. Besides, in leavingthis palace, created with so much love, I am like the poet who haswritten the last stanza to his poem, the artist who has given the lasttouch to his canvas; there still remains the imperishable glory ofhaving achieved a masterpiece. This palace is a monument of art andmagnificence; it shall always be the temple of luxury, fêtes, pleasures. Ah! how ungrateful I should be to complain of my fate! Itis you, madame, who shall be the divinity of this temple; for you shallpurchase it, will you not? You would grace it so well! Do not losethe opportunity; for, as the duke has informed you, Lord Wilmot hasmade me very pressing offers. I should be sorry to sell it to him; heis so ugly, and so is his wife, and so are his five daughters! Whatdivinities for this temple, which seems built expressly for you! I begyou, madame, take it for the love of that art you appreciate so well. Only, be merciful to my worthy uncle! It is a magnificent paintingand, although the portrait and the name of _Saint Ramon_ are oftenrepeated in sculptured medallions on diverse parts of the facade, Iwould be happy to think that this brave uncle--from the height of hismarble monument--would assist for centuries to the pleasures of whichhe deprived himself during life!"

"My dear Florestan, " interrupted the duke, touching his elbow, "it isall very beautiful and wonderful. But eighteen hundred thousandfrancs--including furniture and silver, of course--is an exorbitantprice. "

"I am completely disinterested in the matter, my dear duke, " repliedthe young man, with a smile, "those eighteen hundred thousand francsbelong to my creditors, and I shall therefore be horribly tenacious onthe conditions. Moreover, as I have already told you, Lord Wilmotoffers me that sum and urges me to accept it. "

"That may be, but I am sure you would grant me a favor you would refuseLord Wilmot. Come, Saint-Herem, don't be inflexible--give me adiscount, and--"

"Monsieur de Saint-Herem, " broke in the countess, "I shall take thehouse on the conditions you proposed. "

"Heaven be praised!" exclaimed Florestan, extending his hand towardher. "My good star never deserts me, madame; the affair is settled. "

"But, madame--" interposed the duke, surprised and annoyed at theliberality of his future wife, and still hoping to obtain a reductionon the price, "this is a matter involving considerable money! And atthe point we have reached, it is impossible that you should act withoutmy authority. When we are married--"

"Monsieur de Saint-Herem, you have my word, " interrupted the countess, with a scornful glance at the duke. "This purchase is a personalmatter; my steward will negotiate with yours to-morrow, at any time youmay wish. "

"Agreed, madam, " assented Florestan; then turning to M. De Riancourt, he added gaily, "I hope you will bear me no ill-will, my dear duke; youshould show yourself to be a real grand seigneur, and not bargain likea banker. "

The orchestra; which had been silent for a quarter of an hour, nowstruck up a new cotillion. 

"Pardon me, countess, " resumed the young man, "but I must leave you. Iam to dance this cotillion with the charming daughter of one of thebest workmen who assisted in the building of this mansion--or rather of_your mansion_, madame. And I cannot tell you how happy I am to carryaway that thought in leaving you. "

He bowed respectfully, and vanished in the throng. 

"My dear Foedora, " said the princess, who had remarked the longtête-à-tête of her niece and Saint-Herem with much impatient anxiety, "it is growing late, and we promised Madame de Sardaigne to come early. "

"Allow me to observe, madame, " put in the duke, addressing his_fiancée_ in his turn, "that you were too hasty in this matter. Saint-Herem is forced to sell this house to pay his debts, and with alittle perseverance we could have obtained a reduction of fiftythousand crowns at least, especially if you had requested ityourself--some things are very difficult to refuse a pretty woman!" heconcluded with his most amiable smile. 

"My dear Foedora, what are you thinking about?" resumed the princess toher niece, who was leaning on a gilded mantel covered with flowers, absorbed in deep reflection and deaf to all remonstrances. "Foedora, "repeated her aunt, tugging gently at her sleeve, "what are you dreamingabout?"

"I am thinking of M. De Saint-Herem, " said the conntess, regretfullyawakening from her reverie. "All this is so strangely odd--"

"I really believe that despair at his ruin must have impaired poorFlorestan's mind, " observed M. De Riancourt, sententiously. "One mustbe mad to inaugurate a mansion with such a ball; it savors ofsocialism!"

"The duke is right; the thing is absurd and ridiculous, " chimed in theprincess. "What an amusing story we shall have to relate at theembassy!--but, my dear Foedora, why don't you answer?--what ails you?"

"I don't know, " replied the countess; "what I experience, is mostsingular. "

"You want air, my dear countess, " rejoined the duke, with solicitude. "This agglomeration of the masses is stifling; and though theapartments are spacious--"

"Foedora, are you ill?" broke in the princess. 

"No, indeed, " declared the countess, "the emotion I experience is, onthe contrary, full of sweetness and charm. To tell you the truth, mydear duke, I scarcely know how to express--"

"In mercy, explain yourself countess, " urged the duke, anxiously. "Thestrong perfume of these flowers probably affects you strangely. "

"No, that is not it. I hesitate to speak, because you will both thinkme so strange, so eccentric--"

"Ah! countess, how could we think you otherwise than charming!"exclaimed the duke gallantly. 

"Foedora, explain yourself, " said her aunt impatiently. 

"I am quite willing to do so, but I shall surprise you greatly I know, "she said, with a confident air; then turning to the duke, she addedarchly: "It seems to me--"

"It seems to you, " repeated he, encouragingly. 

"That--"

"Go on. "

"That I am dying to marry M. De Saint-Herem, " she concluded, very low. 

"Madame!" cried the amazed duke, turning crimson. "Madame!"

"What is it, my dear duke?" inquired the princess. "How flushed yourface is!"

"My dear countess, " rejoined the duke, with a forced smile, "the jestis rather--"

"Pray, give me your arm, " interrupted Foedora carelessly, "we arealready very late. But then, it is all your own fault; how is it thatyou, the personification of exactitude, did not proclaim the hour ofeleven long ago?"

"Ah! madame, I assure you I am not in a laughing humor. Your crueljest wounded me to the heart. "

"I was not aware that you possessed such a vulnerable heart. "

"Your suspicion is unjust; I would die for you!"

"Really?"

The duke raised his eyes to heaven and heaved a long sigh. 

"If I were to ask anything of you, " she retorted, "it would not be soheroic a sacrifice, I assure you. "

The carriage was now announced, and the party left the mansion. Almostat the same instant the old mulatto was also turning away from theplace, dazzled and amazed at what he had heard and seen, and stilldreaming of the blessings showered on the name of Saint-Ramon by theguests of this peculiar fête. 

"Half-past eleven, " murmured the old man, as the hour struck from adistant steeple. "I shall be there at midnight--and what shall Ilearn? Ah! what anguish is mine!"

And with a deep sigh he slowly began the ascent of the declivity, stretching along the Seine, to the Rue Chaillot. 

CHAPTER XX. 

The old mulatto wended his way slowly toward the heights of Chaillot, until he reached the church of that poor, populous _faubourg_. 

To his astonishment, he found the church in a blaze of lights. Throughthe wide open door could be seen the sanctuary and altar, brilliantlyilluminated with tapers and decorated with flowers, as though inanticipation of some imposing ceremony, while grouped in the street andsurrounding windows, a throng of curiosity seekers and belatedwayfarers excitedly discussed the approaching event. 

"They cannot delay much longer, " observed one. 

"No, for it is nearly midnight, " rejoined another. 

"Rather a strange hour for a marriage. "

"Undoubtedly; but with such a dowry one can afford peculiar things. "

"Who is to be married at this odd hour?" questioned the old man fromthe last speaker. 

"You must be a stranger in this part of the city, " replied the manaddressed, "or you would know all about the _six marriages_, which forfour years have taken place on the night of May 11 and 12. "

"May 11 and 12, " repeated the old man, with a start. "But why do youcall it the _six marriages_?"

"Because each year six young girls, with a dowry of ten thousand francseach, are married here. "

"A dowry of ten thousand francs! And from whom?"

"From a worthy man who died five years ago, whose name is as popularand as reverentially blessed in Chaillot as the _Petit manteau bleu_ inParis. "

"And who is this worthy man, in whose name these young girls are sogenerously dowered?" pursued the old mulatto, with a slight tremor inhis voice. 

"He was called Père Richard, " returned the man in a deferential tone. 

"And why does this Père Richard do so much good after his death?"continued the old man, making an effort to conceal his emotion. 

"Simply because this was his idea, and because his son religiouslycarries out his last wishes, " explained the man. "And everybody cantell you what a noble man M. Louis Richard is. Himself, his wife andchild live on three or four thousand francs a year, at the most, although he must have inherited a large fortune from his father toenable him to bestow annually a dowry of ten thousand francs each onsix young girls, not counting the expenses of the 'school' and the'House of Providence. '"

"Excuse the curiosity of a stranger; but you speak of a school and--"

"Yes; the school is directed by Madame Mariette, M. Louis Richard'swife. The school was founded for the benefit of twenty-five boys andas many girls, who remain there until they have attained the age oftwelve, when they begin their apprenticeship. The children are fed, clothed and educated and receive ten sous a day. In this manner, parents are induced to send them to school instead of forcing them towork in shops. "

"And the school is under the direction of M. Louis Richard's wife?'

"Yes; she claims to have suffered cruelly through her own want ofeducation when she was only a poor shop girl, and she is particularlyhappy in the thought that she may save others the sufferings sheendured. "

"You also spoke of another institution?"

"That house was founded for the benefit of twelve poor, crippled womenwho cannot work. It is under the direction of Madame Lacombe. "

"Who is Madame Lacombe?"

"Madame Richard's godmother, a good, worthy soul, who lost one handyears ago. She is the personification of gentleness and patience. She can truly sympathize with the crippled women under her charge, forshe says that her goddaughter and herself often suffered the pangs ofhunger before the former's marriage to M. Richard. But here is thewedding procession. "

The old man turned to the street and saw a gay cortege approaching, ledby Louis, with Madame Lacombe on his arm, closely followed by Marietteleading a pretty boy of four years by the hand. 

Madame Lacombe was totally unrecognisable. Her face, formerly sohaggard and worn, was the picture of health, while her countenancebeamed with happiness and benevolence; her silver white hair wassmoothly brushed back beneath a dainty lace cap, and her silk dress washalf concealed by a beautiful cashmere shawl--a tasty toilet which gaveher a most dignified and imposing appearance. 

Louis Richard's features bore an expression of grave and reservedfelicity, and he seemingly realized the full grandeur of the duties hehad imposed upon himself; while Mariette, who had grown still prettierin this beneficial atmosphere, distinguished herself by that air ofsweet gravity so becoming to young mothers. In her legitimate pride, she still retained the modest dress of her girlhood and wore thecoquettish little cap of the shop-girl; and Providence, no doubt, rewarded her for her modesty, for she looked bewitchingly fresh andpretty beneath the lace head-gear, with its knots of pale blue ribbon, as she smiled sweetly on the blond rosy child at her side. 

Next came six young girls, in white dresses and crowned with orangeblossoms, accompanied by their fiancés and relatives, all belonging tothe laboring class; then came the twenty-four couples united in thefour previous years, followed by the school children and the crippledold women who had found refuge in the charitable institutions foundedwith the miser's money. 

The old mulatto gazed in silent reflection at the procession, while hisneighbors commented freely on the memorable event. 

"They owe all this happiness to old Richard, " he heard some one say. 

"And to his son, " added another voice. 

"Undoubtedly; but the son would have been powerless without thefather's money. "

"Do you know that more than a hundred and fifty persons assembled hereowe everything to the good old man?"

"Yes; and in the last four years, six or seven hundred persons musthave shared the benefits of the inheritance. "

"And if M. Louis lives thirty years longer, the number will reach fiveor six thousands--thousands saved from misery and crime, perhaps. "

"You forget the children of these happily married couples, who willhave the advantages of education and good breeding procured by thisgenerous dowry. "

"You are right; the good accomplished by old Richard is beyondcalculation. What a pity so few know how to spend their money!"

"Yes; but there are few such men as Richard and his son. But why areyou weeping?" concluded the speaker, turning suddenly toward the oldmulatto. 

"The praises I hear on all sides of--of this Richard and his son, andthe sight of so much happiness causes me a strange emotion, " explainedthe old man. 

"If you are interested in the ceremony, you may follow the cortege tothe _House of Providence_, my good man, " returned his first informant, as he moved toward the entrance of the church. 

The old man stood motionless for a few moments, then slowly followedthe throng into the sacred edifice. Throughout the whole solemnceremony, he seemed plunged into a sort of ecstasy, as if a suddenrevelation had opened an immense, dazzling horizon, hitherto veiled tohis eyes. Burying his face in his hands, he sank into a deepmeditation from which he was aroused by the grave sonorous voice of theofficiating priest addressing the newly-married couples. 

"And now that your union is consecrated by God, " he was saying, "continue the honest, laborious life which has been repaid by thehappiness you now enjoy; never forget that you owe this justremuneration of your courage in adversity to a man gifted with the mosttender and generous affection for his brothers; for, faithful to hisduties as a Christian, he does not look upon himself as the master, butas the dispenser of his riches. In giving M. Richard a son so worthyof him, the Lord has recompensed that great man, and his memory shalllive amongst men. Your gratitude will create his immortality; his nameshall be blessed by you, by your children and your children's children;the venerated name of M. Richard shall be engraved on your hearts as asouvenir of rare virtue!"

A murmur of approbation greeted these words, drowning the stifled sobsof the old mulatto whose face was still buried in his hands. 

The ceremony was now over, and the noise and bustle of the dispersingthrong recalled him to himself. Rising from his knees, he hurried tothe door, where he stood, trembling in every limb, waiting for thepassage of the leading group in the procession. 

As Louis Richard crossed the threshold, the old man's hand came incontact with his own, causing him to turn in that direction. Seeingthe bowed head and shabby clothes of the stranger, the young manslipped a gold coin between his fingers, saying kindly: "Take it, andpray for Père Richard. "

The old man eagerly grasped the coin, and raising it to his lips, burstinto tears. Then leaning once more on his cane, he slowly followed thegay party. 

CHAPTER XXI. 

The _House of Providence_ was built on the highest point of Chaillot, in a healthful, beautiful spot, and was surrounded by a large, shadygarden which served as pleasure grounds to its inmates. 

The night was calm and serene, and the atmosphere was impregnated withthe sweet fragrance of a profusion of spring blossoms, while numerousgas-jets illuminated the wide avenue that led to the entrance of theprincipal building. 

The stranger, who still followed the throng, soon found himself in themidst of a semi-circle silently grouped around a high porch, listeningto the following words from a voice that thrilled him with strangeemotion:

"My friends, " Louis was saying, "five years ago to-night, I lost thebest of fathers in the frightful accident of the Versailles road. Being possessed of considerable wealth, my father might have lived incomfort and idleness; but he deprived himself of all luxury, workingfor his daily bread, slowly accumulating riches by his parsimony andaugmenting them year by year by his abnegation. Then came hispremature death, and I mourned over the loss of the greatest friend ofhumanity; for, according to his last wishes, I have consecrated hiswealth to the accomplishment of three great and noble duties:

"Toward children. 

"Toward young girls. 

"Toward women whom age and infirmities render incapable of work. 

"To poor children, my father has provided elementary instructions; toyoung girls, so often exposed to the seductions of vice, he has assuredthe pure and sweet joys of family life, so often denied to children ofpoverty; to aged or infirm women, he has given rest and comfort for theremainder of their days. 

"These last wishes I have faithfully carried out to the limits of themeans he has left me. The good thus done may be small in comparison tothe innumerable miseries of humanity; but the man who does what he can, _shares his bread_ with his famished brother and does his duty. Thisis a duty imposed on all alike, and all should strive to reach thatideal. My father conceived that generous thought--I am but the agent, the echo. The accomplishment of this glorious duty would fill my lifewith boundless felicity, were it not that I must weep over the death ofa beloved and deeply regretted father. "

As the speaker uttered the last words, a wild commotion spread throughthe assemblage; overcome by his emotion, the old mulatto had fallenunconscious in the arms of his neighbors. On hearing the cause of thesudden agitation, Louis ordered that the stranger be carried to his ownapartments on the ground floor of the building, where he could receiveprompt and careful attention; insisting at the same time that thewedding festivities should go on uninterrupted, and that Mariette andMadame Lacombe should preside in his place at the supper table in thegarden. 

In the meantime, the old man had been transported into Louis' study, which was furnished with the few odd pieces of furniture carried awayfrom the old home so long shared in common between the father and son. When the young man entered, the stranger was still unconscious, hiswhite hair falling in disorder over his brow and his unkempt beardalmost totally concealing his features. 

Frightened at his immobility, Louis despatched the attendant for abottle of spirits; then bending over him he caught the emaciated handto feel the pulse. As he peered anxiously into the withered face, thestranger turned slightly and uttered a few unintelligible words. 

The sound of the voice struck him strangely. Bending lower he tried todistinguish the features of the patient; but the semi-obscurity of theroom and the disordered hair and beard rendered his examinationfruitless. 

Then the mulatto's eyes opened slowly; raising his head languidly, hisgaze wandered over the room and rested on the familiar objects. 

"Where am I?" he murmured. "Is it a dream? My God! my God!"

This time the voice was more distinct and Louis trembled visibly; thena bitter smile came to his lips and he shook his head sadly. 

"Alas!" he said, in a low tone, "what illusions sorrow will cause. "Then turning to the patient, he added kindly: "Do you feel strongernow?"

At these words, the stranger sat bolt upright, and catching Louis' handkissed it rapturously. 

"There, don't agitate yourself, " resumed the young man. "I have donenothing to win your gratitude. Some day I may be able to do more. Buttell me how you feel. Was it fatigue or weakness that caused yourswoon?"

The old man still remained silent, his head bowed down and pressingLouis' hand convulsively to his breast. 

A singular emotion filled the young man's heart, and the tears cameinto his eyes as he continued:

"Listen to me, father. "

"Oh! again, again!" murmured the stranger, in a voice choked withemotion. 

"Well, father--"

"Louis!" cried the old man, unable to control himself longer. 

This single word, uttered with all the strength of his soul, was arevelation. 

The young man started back as though a thunderbolt had fallen at hisfeet, and stood for a moment pale and trembling, his gaze fixed on thehaggard features before him. The commotion was too violent, the moralshock too deep, to allow him to realize the astounding truth at once. It seemed like the sudden transition of deep night to the brightsunshine, which dazzles and renders us momentarily blind. 

Then the reality suddenly burst on his dazed senses; throwing himselfon his knees beside the couch, he brushed back the disheveled whitehair from the stranger's face, and scanned the featured of his father, disguised under a fictitious color. There was no longer any doubt; hethrew his arms about the old man's neck, murmuring in a sort of filialdelirium: "You!--you, my father--Heaven be praised!"

 * * * * * *

"We shall not attempt to describe this first explosion of joy anddelirious happiness. Who can paint those affectionate embraces, thosetender words that come from the heart and throw the soul into anecstacy of bliss? When the first emotion had finally subsided, however, Louis eagerly questioned his father concerning those longyears of separation. 

"My dear child, " began the father, "I slept for five years and awakenedfor the first time two days ago. I was in the wrecked car with Ramonand his daughter; but through some inexplicable chance my life wasspared, though my leg was fractured and the fright drove me mad. "

"You, my father?"

"Yes, I completely lost my reason. "

"Heavens! how terrible!"

"A kind surgeon carried me to a place of safety and afterward conveyedme to the Versailles asylum. I was perfectly harmless and spoke onlyof my lost treasures. For four years I remained in the same condition;then I gradually regained my reason, and two days since was pronouncedcured. I cannot express what I experienced as memory came back to me, after these five years of slumber; but I blush to admit that my firstthought was that of the miser. What had become of my wealth? what usehad it been put to? The moment the doors of my prison opened beforeme, I flew to my notary's office. You can imagine his stupefactionwhen he recognized me. He then informed me that your first thought hadbeen to act as trustee only to my riches, and to use merely enough foryour existence until you reached the age of thirty-five. Then cameyour severe illness six months later, and fearing you might die withoutaccomplishing your sacred task, you conceived other projects. 'Whatwere these projects?' I asked. 'Wait until midnight to-morrow, ' thenotary replied, and go to the church at Chaillot. There you will learnall, and thank heaven to have given you such a son. ' I had thepatience to wait, my dear son, hoping to approach you without beingrecognized. Oh! my noble, beloved son! if you knew what I have heardand seen! Thanks to your grandeur of soul and the pious ruse of yourfilial affection, I found my name blessed and venerated! If you knewwhat sudden revolution took place in me! While blessings were showeredon my memory, it seemed to me that my soul had burst its terrestrialchains and was hovering above the world, just as the souls of good menmust hover above us, while listening to the expressions of love andgratitude from those whom they have benefitted. But, alas! thisillusion was of short duration---I was not deserving of these praises. "

"You are mistaken, father, " protested Louis. "Without your perseveringeconomy I could never have accomplished anything. You placed the leverin my hand. My only merit has been to make good use of the immenseforce you concentrated at the price of innumerable sacrifices andprivations. The horrible misery and the ignorance through which mybeloved wife had suffered, the dangers to which they had exposed her, the cruel infirmity of her guardian, all these bitter things were alesson to me; Mariette, her godmother and myself have tried, as far asit lay in our power, to spare others what we had suffered, --"

At this moment the door was burst suddenly open and Florestan deSaint-Herem dashed, breathless into the room. 

"Rejoice, oh! rejoice!" he cried, throwing himself into his friend'sarms. "Saint-Ramon has performed the most wonderful of miracles!"

"What do you mean?" gasped the astonished Louis. 

"Two hours ago I was completely ruined, and now I am richer than I everwas or ever will be. Only fancy, Louis, I am the possessor of goldmines, silver mines, diamonds of untold value, of fabulousriches--millions and millions, in fact! Oh! Saint-Ramon, how just Iwas to sanctify your name, to canonize you, for you are not ungrateful!"

"In mercy, explain yourself, Florestan!"

"One hour ago, as the ball was drawing to a close, a servant informedme that a lady had just arrived in a fiacre and requested to see me atonce. Hastening to my apartments, I was amazed to find the CountessZomaloff, a young and beautiful widow, quietly waiting for me. Thischarming woman was to have married the Duke de Riancourt within a weekand had purchased my house during the evening. My surprise was sogreat that for a moment I was unable to utter a word. 

"'Monsieur de Saint-Herem, ' she said, without a tremor of agitation inher voice, 'you must forgive me for disturbing you, but I shall retainyou a few moments only--I am a widow and twenty-eight years of age; Ihad promised to marry the duke, and would probably have been foolishenough to keep my word it I had not met you. You have a generous heartand a lofty soul; the fête you have given this evening proves it; Iadmire your intellect and character, and your person pleases me. Asfor me, the step I am taking now gives you the opportunity of judgingmy worth--You may think my actions strange, improper, or eccentric--youare at liberty to appreciate me as you wish. If your judgment isfavorable, however, I shall be proud and happy to become Madame deSaint-Herem and inhabit the Saint-Ramon mansion with you. My wealth isfabulous, and you may dispose of it as you wish, for I confide myfuture blindly into your hands. I shall therefore await your decisionanxiously. Good-night, Monsieur de Saint-Herem. '

"With these words the fairy vanished, my dear Louis, leaving me in sucha state of dazzling happiness that I feared I would lose my reason. "

"My dear Florestan, " said his friend gravely, "the countess' franknessand blind confidence in you impose a great duty on you. "

"I understand, my friend, " rejoined Saint-Herem seriously. "I had aright to squander my own fortune; but to ruin a woman who trusts herwhole future into my hands would be a piece of unparalleled infamy!"

 * * * * * *

One month later, Louis Richard, with his father and Mariette, assistedat the nuptial benediction of Florestan de Saint-Herem and MadameZomaloff. 

Notwithstanding his father's resurrection, Louis still continues todispense charity around him, greatly aided in the benevolent task byold Richard himself, who now exhibits as much zeal in relieving povertyand distress, as he formerly did in hoarding up his treasure andministering to his one great passion or besetting sin--avarice. 

May the twelfth is now doubly celebrated. A magnificent fête is givenyearly by M. And Madame de Saint-Herem in honor of their first meeting, for the marriage of _convenance_ has turned out to be one of love. Butat midnight, they invariably leave the brilliantly illuminatedSaint-Ramon mansion and accompany Louis and Mariette to their home, where they share the wedding supper of the six happy couples united onthat day.