Did you notice how pale she was.

Within a fortnight she'll have left the town--you'll see." "Better have you for a friend than an enemy," cried Minoret, frightened at the atrocious grin which gave to Goupil's face the diabolical expression of the Mephistopheles of Joseph Brideau.
"I should think so!" returned Goupil.

"If she doesn't marry me I'll make her die of grief." "Do it, my boy, and I'll GIVE you the money to buy a practice in Paris.
You can then marry a rich woman--" "Poor Ursula! what makes you so bitter against her?
what has she done to you ?" asked the clerk in surprise.
"She annoys me," said Minoret, gruffly.
"Well, wait till Monday and you shall see how I'll rasp her," said Goupil, studying the expression of the late post master's face.
The next day La Bougival carried the following letter to Savinien.
"I don't know what the dear child has written to you," she said, "but she is almost dead this morning." Who, reading this letter to her lover, could fail to understand the sufferings the poor girl had gone through during the night.
My dear Savinien,--Your mother wishes you to marry Mademoiselle du Rouvre, and perhaps she is right.

You are placed between a life that is almost poverty-stricken and a life of opulence; between the betrothed of your heart and a wife in conformity with the demands of the world; between obedience to your mother and the fulfilment of your own choice--for I still believe that you have chosen me.

Savinien, if you have now to make your decision I wish you to do so in absolute freedom; I give you back the promise you made to yourself--not to me--in a moment which can never fade from my memory, for it was, like other days that have succeeded it, of angelic purity and sweetness.