"Tut, tut, tut, soft words won't blind me, young man;" she interrupted roughly. "If you are the son of a public writer, you are as penniless as Mariette; and two miseries united in marriage are worth three single ones. My goddaughter has enough of me to support, without a troop of famished children."
"But, my dear godmother—" protested the girl.
"Don't bother me!" she retorted angrily. "I know your plans; you simply want to rid yourself of me and leave me in the gutter to starve."
"How can you believe such a thing!" cried Mariette, reproachfully, her eyes full of tears.
"Your fears are groundless, I assure you," Louis hastened to say. "I have just discovered that my father is immensely wealthy, but for reasons of his own, he has kept the matter a secret until now."
Mariette gazed at Louis with an air of mingled astonishment and delight at this unexpected information. Then she smiled through her tears and said, with a shade of defiance in her gentle voice: "You see, godmother, that the picture is not as dark as you painted it, we are quite able to take care of you as well as ourselves."
"You are quite ready to fall into the trap, of course," rejoined the old woman, with a sarcastic laugh.
"But, godmother—"
"Don't you see that he is inventing those lies to obtain my consent to your marriage—"
"Madame, I swear—"