"You don't know him, mamma. He is a gentleman; he understands all these delicacies, and there is more to be gained by submitting one's self to his discretion, than by trying to resist his will. You blame his manner of existence, but you don't understand him. I know him. He belongs to a different race than you and I. He needs refinements of luxury which would be useless to us, but the deprivation of which would be hard to him. He suffered much when he was poor, he is making up for it now. We are guilty of some extravagances, 'tis true; but what does it matter? For whom have you made a fortune? For me! For what object? My happiness! Well, I am happy to surround my Prince with the glory and pomp which suits him so well. He is grateful to me; he loves me, and I hold his love dearer than all else in the world; for if ever he ceases to love me I shall die!" "Micheline!" cried Madame Desvarennes, beside herself, and seizing her daughter with nervous strength. The young wife quietly allowed her fair head to fall on her mother's shoulder, and whispered faintly in her ear: "You don't want to wreck my life. I understand your displeasure. It is natural; I feel it. You cannot think otherwise than you do, being a simple, hardworking woman; but I beg of you to banish all hatred, and confine these ideas within yourself. Say nothing more about them for love of me!" The mother was vanquished. She had never been able to resist that suppliant voice. "Ah! cruel child," she moaned, "what pain you are causing me!" "You consent, don't you, dear mother?" murmured Micheline, falling into the arms of her by whom she knew she was adored. "I will do as you wish," said Madame Desvarennes, kissing her daughter's hair--that golden hair which, in former days, she loved to stroke. The strains of the piano sounded on the terrace. In the shade, groups of merry dancers were enjoying themselves. Happy voices were heard approaching, and Savinien, followed by Marechal and Suzanne, came briskly up the steps. "Oh, aunt, it is not fair," said the dandy. "If you have come here to monopolize Micheline, you will be sent back to Paris. We want a vis-a -vis for a quadrille. Come, Princess, it is delightfully cool outside, and I am sure you will enjoy it." "Monsieur Le Brede has gathered some oranges, and is trying to play at cup and ball with them on his nose, while his friend, Monsieur du Tremblay, jealous of his success, talks of illuminating the trees with bowls of punch," said Marechal. "And what is Serge doing?" inquired Micheline, smiling. "He is talking to my wife on the terrace," said Cayrol, appearing in the gallery.