This indifference made her mother positively jump. "You speak very coolly about it! At the rate your husband is spending, there will be nothing left of your dowry in six months." "Well!" said the Princess, gayly, "you will give us another." Madame Desvarennes assumed her cold businesslike manner. "Ta! ta! ta! Do you think there is no limit to my resources? I gave you four millions when you were married, represented by fifteen hundred thousand francs, in good stock, a house in the Rue de Rivoli, and eight hundred thousand francs which I prudently kept in the business, and for which I pay you interest. The fifteen hundred thousand francs have vanished. My lawyer came to tell me that the house in the Rue de Rivoli had been sold without a reinvestment taking place." The mistress stopped. She had spoken in that frank, determined, way of hers that was part of her strength. She looked fixedly at Micheline, and asked: "Did you know this, my girl?" The Princess, deeply troubled, because now it was not a question of sentiment, but of serious moment, answered, in a low tone: "No, mamma." "How is that possible?" Madame Desvarennes demanded, hotly. "Nothing can be done without your signature." "I gave it," murmured Micheline. "You gave it!" repeated the mistress in a tone of anger. "When?" "The day after my marriage." "Your husband had the impudence to ask for it the day after your marriage?" Micheline smiled. "He did not ask for it, mamma," she replied, with sweetness; "I offered it to him. You had settled all on me." "Prudently! With a fellow like your husband!" "Your mistrust must have been humiliating to him. I was ashamed of it. I said nothing to you, because I knew you would rather prevent the marriage, and I loved Serge. I, therefore, signed the contract which you had had prepared. Only the next day I gave a general power of attorney to my husband." Madame Desvarennes's anger was over. She was observing Micheline, and wished to find out the depth of the abyss into which her daughter had thrown herself with blind confidence. "And what did he say then?" she inquired. "Nothing," answered Micheline, simply. "Tears came to his eyes, and he kissed me. I saw that this delicacy touched his heart and I was happy. There, mamma," she added with eyes sparkling at the remembrance of the pleasure she had experienced, "he may spend as much as he likes; I am amply repaid beforehand." Madame Desvarennes shrugged her shoulders, and said: "My dear child, you are mad enough to be locked up. What is there about the fellow to turn every woman's brain?" "Every woman's?" exclaimed Micheline, anxiously, looking at her mother. "That is a manner of speaking. But, my dear, you must understand that I cannot be satisfied with what you have just told me. A tear and a kiss! Bah! That is not worth your dowry." "Come, mamma, do let me be happy." "You can be happy without committing follies. You do not need a racing- stable."