"'You did right,' she said. 'It does not matter who posts a letter. You did not tell my daughter I took it from you?'
"'No, madame.'
"'You are faithful and judicious,' she said, but her praise gave me no pleasure. 'If I had lived I would have rewarded you. You must not repeat to my daughter or to Mr. Almer what I have been saying to you. Promise me.'
"I gave her the promise, and then she said that perhaps she would give me a message to deliver to her daughter, her last message; but she must think of it first, and if she forgot it I was to ask her for it. After that she was quiet, and spoke to no one. A couple of hours passed, and I asked the doctors whether she had long to live. They said she could not live another hour. I then told them that she had asked me to remind her of a message she wished me to give to her daughter, and whether it was right I should disturb her. They said that the wishes of the dying should be respected, and that I should try to make her understand that death was very near. I put my face again very close to hers.
"'Can you hear me?' I asked.
"'Who are you?' she said.
"Her words were but a breath, and I could only understand them by watching the movements of her lips.
"'I am Denise.'
"'Ah, yes,' she replied. 'Denise, that my daughter is fond of.'
"'You wished to give me a message to your daughter.'