Madame Lacombe had scarcely uttered these words before Mariette burst into the room, pale and indignant, and throwing herself upon the sick woman's neck, exclaimed:
"Ah, godmother. I knew very well that you loved me as if I were your own child!"
Then turning to Commandant de la Miraudière, whom she recognised as the man who had stared at her so persistently at Madame Jourdan's, she said contemptuously:
"I beg that you will leave at once."
"But, my dear little dove—"
"I was there at the door, monsieur, and I heard all."
"So much the better. You know what I am willing to do, and I assure you—"
"Once more, I must request you to leave at once."
"Very well, very well, my little Lucrece, I will go, but I shall allow you one week for reflection," said the stranger, preparing to leave the room.
But on the threshold he paused and added: