"M. Louis gives me up—and tells me to give him up also," she said slowly.
"Alas! yes, poor child! Come, be brave and resigned."
Mariette turned ghastly pale and stood silent for a moment, while big tears rolled down her cheeky; then, falling to her knees, she gathered the fragments of the torn letter and placed them on the desk before the old man's eyes.
"I shall have the courage to hear it through," she said sadly; "replace the pieces and read it."
"Please don't insist, my child, I beg of you," he rejoined, with hypocritical 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 useless pain."
"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."