"Mariette! in mercy listen to me!" pleaded Louis. "I did not come to say 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 young man. "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 you again and fix the day of our marriage, as I told you in my letter—"
"Your letter!" interrupted the girl, sadly. "Have you already forgotten what you wrote, Louis? Here—read it."
"He can deny his own writing, of course," growled Mme. Lacombe, as the young man hastily placed the torn pieces together; "and you'll be stupid enough to believe him."
"This is what I wrote, Mariette," said Louis, when he had succeeded in his 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 cannot live without you. Thank God, the day of our union is fast approaching. Tomorrow is the sixth of May, remember. I shall speak to my father the moment I reach home, and I am sure he will not refuse his consent.
"Farewell, then, until day after to-morrow, my darling Mariette. I love you madly, or wisely, rather; for I was wise to seek and find happiness in a heart like yours.
"Yours forever and ever. LOUIS."