Turning the box over, she gathered the coins into a dazzling pile and added with a sigh:

"That would bring comfort and ease to two poor women like Mariette and me for a lifetime!"

"Those fifteen thousand francs are yours, madame," observed Louis.

"Mine!" she cried, "mine!" then shaking her head incredulously, she resumed sharply; "That's it, laugh at a poor old woman--why can't you leave me in peace?--I don't see why this should belong to me!"

"The money is to be used to provide a pension of twelve hundred francs for you," declared the young man, "that you may be independent after our marriage; for we shall be married as soon as possible."

"Ah! yes; so you wish to bribe the old woman, and be rid of her once for all," growled the irritable Mme. Lacombe. "Do you imagine I would sell myself for money?"

"Dear G.o.dmother," cried Mariette, throwing her arms about the woman's neck, "don't say we want to get rid of you! Louis had no thought of humiliating you with the money, he merely did what you requested."

"I know it; but what will you, child," she said, softened in spite of herself. "It was the fear of starving in the streets, the fear of seeing you unhappily married that suggested the idea of a pension to me. I know that I have no right to expect such a thing, but one can never imagine what terror is inspired by the thought of being cast into the streets penniless, old and infirm as I am!--All I want is a poor mattress in a corner, a crust of bread, and the sight of Mariette's sweet face. I am so accustomed to see her come and go in this wretched room, that if she were not there I would think myself shut up in a dark tomb. And besides, she is the only person in the world who could be kind to me--all I ask is to remain with Mariette. That pile of gold dazzled me for a moment, but then it humiliated me too in my heart.

One may be but a worm, and yet have some pride--and yet, when that man offered me gold for Mariette the other day, I was not humiliated--I was only furious. But now, here I am weeping; and Mariette knows I have not shed a tear for the last ten years. Bitterness may eat away the heart, but it does not melt it."

"These tears will do you good, G.o.dmother," said Mariette gently.

"Have confidence in the future, madame," added Louis, consolingly.

"Mariette will never leave you. We shall not live in luxury, but in modest comfort; and Mariette shall continue to love you as a mother, while I shall love you as a dutiful son."

"Are you really in earnest? do you really mean to keep me with you?"

she asked, gazing earnestly into their faces, as though she would read their inmost thoughts.

At this new proof of invincible distrust, the young people exchanged a look of compa.s.sion; then, taking the sick woman's hand in hers, Mariette said tenderly: "Yes, dear G.o.dmother, we shall keep you always with us, and nurse you as we would our own mother; you shall see how happy we shall make life to you--"

"Yes, we shall make your life a dream of happiness," added Louis, affectionately.

The voice, accent, expression and earnestness of the two young people would have convinced the most skeptic; but alas! an absolute, complete belief in sudden happiness could not penetrate this poor soul so long corroded by suffering.

"I believe you, my children," she said, with a suppressed sigh, trying to hide her involuntary doubt. "Yes, I believe Monsieur Louis has the money; I believe that you both feel some affection for me, also--but you know, a new broom sweeps clean! People are willing enough at first, but things change with time. Besides, I may be in the way; newly married people love to be alone, and an old grumbler like me spoils the beauty of a cozy house. You will be afraid of my sharp words, grow weary of me, or--"

"Ah! G.o.dmother, do you still doubt us?" cried Mariette, reproachfully.

"You must forgive me, my children, but it is stronger than myself,"

rejoined the unhappy woman, bursting into sobs. "But then," she added, with a forced smile, "it may be better so; for if I were to suddenly believe in happiness, after more than fifty years of sorrow and misery, I would surely go mad. And upon my word, it would not surprise me,"

she concluded bitterly, "it would be just my luck."

CHAPTER XVI.

Five years had glided by since the eventful incidents related in the preceding chapters, and another anniversary of the Versailles disaster had been added to the list.

It was about nine o'clock in the evening, and a tall, slender brunette, of elegant form and figure, whose beautiful face expressed intelligence and firmness both, was giving the finishing touches to a dazzling toilette. She was a.s.sisted in this serious and important occupation by two skillful maids, one of whom was clasping a necklace of large, sparkling diamonds around the white throat of her charming mistress, while the other adjusted a magnificent diadem of the same precious stones on the raven black hair.

The choice of these diamonds had evidently been made after much deliberation, for a number of jewel cases, containing pearls, rubies, and other precious ornaments of enormous value, still lay open on a toilet table near by.

One of the maids, being much older than her companion, and having been in the service of her mistress for many years, seemed to enjoy a certain degree of familiarity near the countess--who was a Russian as well as herself--which permitted her many observations not usually tolerated from her cla.s.s.

"Does madame like the diadem as it is now?" she asked in her own tongue.

"Well enough," replied Countess Zomaloff, nonchalantly, casting a last glance at the large mirror before her. "Where is my bouquet?"

"Here, madame."

"Heavens! how frightfully yellow and faded it is!" cried the countess, shrinking back.

"The duke has just sent it," ventured the maid.

"I recognize his good taste," said the countess sarcastically, as she shrugged her pretty shoulders disdainfully. "I would wager the flowers were ordered yesterday morning by some lover who broke off with his mistress during the day, and consequently did not call for them in the evening. The Duke de Riancourt is the only man in the world capable of discovering such bargains!"

"Ah! madame, can you believe he would economize to that point?"

protested the maid. "He is so rich!"

"That makes it only the more probable."

A rap on the door of the boudoir adjoining the dressing-room, interrupted the conversation, and the French maid vanished, returning almost immediately with the information that the duke had arrived and was at madame's orders.

"Let him wait," observed the countess carelessly. "Is the princess in the drawing-room?"

"Yes, madame."

"Very well--here Katinka, clasp this bracelet," resumed the countess, addressing the Russian maid in her own language once more, "and see what time it is."

Katinka turned to the clock and was opening her lips to reply, when her mistress forestalled her by saying, with a mocking smile:

"After all, why should I make such an inquiry. The duke has just arrived, half-past nine must--"

The half-hour stroke from the clock on the chimney interrupted her, and she broke into a merry, rippling laugh.

"What did I tell you, Katinka," she laughed, "the duke is a veritable clock in exact.i.tude."

"It proves his love and devotion, madame," rejoined the maid.

"I would prefer a less well-regulated love, Katinka," retorted the countess. "These persons who worship at fixed hours seem to have a watch where the heart ought to be. There now, I am almost sorry to be so completely dressed and ready, and to have no excuse to make that poor duke wait longer to reward him for his pitiless exact.i.tude."

"But, madame," remonstrated the maid, "if you dislike him so, why do you marry him?"

"Why?" echoed the countess, absent-mindedly, giving another glance at the mirror; "why do I marry M. de Riancourt? Really, Katinka, you are more inquisitive than I am; does one ever know why one marries?"

"Everybody seems to think there exist excellent reasons for this marriage, nevertheless," pursued Katinka. "Although M. de Riancourt has no gold mines in Crimea, silver mines in the Ural Mountains, diamond--"

"In mercy, Katinka, don't go over the list of my riches!" cried the countess, impatiently.

"Well, madame, although the duke has not your immense possessions, he is one of the wealthiest and greatest n.o.blemen in France; he is young and handsome, has never led a dissipated life, and--"

"And he is worthy of wearing a wreath of orange blossoms on our wedding day--a right which I have not; but, in heaven's name, spare me his virtues. My aunt sounds his praises loud enough without a.s.sistance."