"Madame," said Louis, "I shall come with my father to beg the honor of Mariette's hand in marriage, and will at the same time inform you of the 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 the wall.
"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 last know happiness—happiness forever," murmured the young girl, as Louis clasped 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 you dare to move from the room, Mariette! You are dying to go down with that gay deceiver, I know; but when I say no, I mean no!"
The young couple exchanged one last loving glance and, with a whispered: "Good-bye, my darling," Louis was gone, while Mariette returned slowly to the bedside of her godmother.
CHAPTER XI.
Louis at once proceeded to his father's business place, anxious to get over the inevitable explanation which had become necessary between them. But to his great astonishment and alarm, he found the door and shutters still closed, and was informed by the neighbors that the old man had not made his appearance that day. This break in his regular habits seemed so unusual and inexplicable, that the young man felt a vague uneasiness invading him as he hurried toward home, and all sorts of wild conjectures flashed through his mind. He soon reached the Rue de Grenelle, however, and was running up the first flight of stairs when the concierge called him from his door.
"Monsieur Louis," he said, "your father went out a couple of hours ago and left a letter for you. I was to take it to your office if you did not return before two o'clock."
The young man grasped the letter and tore it open. It ran thus: