letters. "They must have dropped from my purse; for I have l

Hout regret or remorse. And yet, it seems to
me my heart is
as tender as others--"

"Yes, and more ungrateful, too!" interrupted a harsh voice;
and Mme. Lacombe sat bolt upright in her bed, glaring fiercely at the astounded
young couple. "Ah! yes," she went on, sarcastically, "you thought the old woman sound asleep, and took advantage of it to talk of your wedding. But
I heard every word of it." "There
was not a word which you might not hear; madame," observed Louis, gravely. "Mariette and myself retract nothing we have said." "The deuce!--I believe it--you think of nothing but yourself. You can talk of nothing but that accursed marriage. As for me--I might as well be in my grave--" "Allow me to interrupt you, mada me," broke in Louis, "and prove that I have not forgotten my promise." As he spoke, he took a small wooden box from the table, where he had laid it on entering, and deposited
it on the bed with the key. "Open it," he said; "all it
contains is yours." The old woman picked up the key suspiciously, opened the box and peered in. "Great
heavens!" she cried in amazement, dazzled by the glittering contents. Then plunging her hand among the shining pieces, she tossed them about, jingling them together
and allowing them to slip through her fingers in a golden shower,
muttering covetously: "Ah! what gold! what gold!--all good and sound,
too!--Heavens!
what beautiful pieces! What a big sum they must make!" 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 ca