"Pooh! You can make doctors order you anything you like!" resumed her mother, excitedly, and shaking her head disdainfully. "Your husband said to our good Doctor Rigaud: 'Don't you think that a season in the South would do my wife good?' The doctor answered: 'If it does not do her any good it certainly won't do her any harm.' Then your husband added, 'just take a sheet of paper and write out a prescription. You understand? It is for my mother-in-law, who will not be pleased at our going away.'" And as Micheline seemed to doubt what she was saying, the latter added: "The doctor told me when I went to see him about it. I never had much faith in doctors, and now--" Micheline felt she was on delicate ground, and wanted to change the subject. She soothed her mother as in days gone by, saying: "Come, mamma; will you never be able to get used to your part? Must you always be jealous? You know all wives leave their mothers to follow their husbands. It is the law of nature. You, in your day, remember, followed your husband, and your mother must have wept." "Did my mother love me as I love you?" asked Madame Desvarennes, impetuously. "I was brought up differently. We had not time to love each other so much. We had to work. The happiness of spoiling one's child is a privilege of the rich. For you there was no down warm enough or silk soft enough to line your cradle. You have been petted and worshipped for twenty years. Yet, it only needed a man, whom you scarcely knew six months ago, to make you forget everything." "I have not forgotten anything," replied Micheline, moved by these passionate expressions. "And in my heart you still hold the same place." The mistress looked at the young wife, then, in a sad tone, said: "It is no longer the first place." This simple, selfish view made Micheline smile. "It is just like you, you tyrant!" she exclaimed. "You must be first. Come, be satisfied with equality! Remember that you were first in the field, and that for twenty years I have loved you, while he has to make up for lost time. Don't try to make a comparison between my love for him and my affection for you. Be kind: instead of looking black at him, try to love him. I should be so happy to see you united, and to be able, without reservation, to think of you both with the same tenderness!" "Ah! how you talk me over. How charming and caressing you can be when you like. And how happy Serge ought to be with a wife like you! It is always the way; men like him always get the best wives." "I don't suppose, mamma, you came all the way from Paris to run down my husband to me." Madame Desvarennes became serious again. "No; I came to defend you." Micheline looked surprised. "It is time for me to speak. You are seriously menaced," continued the mother. "In my love?" asked the young wife, in an altered tone. "No; in your fortune." Micheline smiled superbly. "If that be all!"