The dandies roared with laughter. They had at once recognized the pure English style. They were not men to be deceived. One of them, a tall, dark fellow, named Du Tremblays, affected an aggrieved air, and said: "Le Brede, my dear fellow, you make us blush for you!" The Prince passed, smiling and speaking in a low voice to the beautiful Englishwoman, who was resting the tips of her white gloved fingers on her cavalier's arm. "Who is she?" inquired Le Brede, impatiently. "Eh, my dear fellow, it is Lady Harton, a cousin of the Prince. She is extremely rich, and owns a district in London." "They say that a year ago she was very kind to Serge Panine," added Du Tremblays, confidentially. "Why did he not marry her, then, since she is so rich? He has been quite a year in the market, the dear Prince." "She is married." "Oh, that is a good reason. But where is her husband?" "Shut up in a castle in Scotland. Nobody ever sees him. He is out of his mind; and is surrounded by every attention." "And a strait-waistcoat! Then why does not this pretty woman get a divorce?" "The money belongs to the husband." "Really!" Pierre and Marechal had listened, in silence, to this cool and yet terrible conversation. The group of young men dispersed. The two friends looked at each other. Thus, then, Serge Panine was judged by his companions in pleasure, by the frequenters of the clubs in which he had spent a part of his existence. The Prince being "in the market" was obliged to marry a rich woman. He could not marry Lady Harton, so he had sought Micheline. And the sweet child was the wife of such a man! And what could be done? She loved him! Madame Desvarennes and Micheline appeared on the terrace. Lady Harton pointed to the bride with her fan. The Prince, leaving his companion, advanced toward Micheline. "One of my English relatives, a Polish lady, married to Lord Harton, wishes to be introduced to you," said Serge. "Are you agreeable?" "With all my heart," replied the young wife, looking lovingly at her husband. "All who belong to you are dear to me, you know." The beautiful Englishwoman approached slowly. "The Princess Panine!" said Serge, gravely, introducing Micheline, who bowed gracefully. Then, with a shade of familiarity: "Lady Harton!" continued he, introducing his relative. "I am very fond of your husband, Madame," said the Englishwoman. "I hope you will allow me to love you also; and I beg you to grant me the favor of accepting this small remembrance." While speaking, she unfastened from her wrist a splendid bracelet with the inscription, Semper. Serge frowned and looked stern. Micheline, lowering her eyes, and awed by the Englishwoman's grandeur, timidly said: "I accept it, Madame, as a token of friendship." "I think I recognize this bracelet, Madame," observed Serge.