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"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 friends.h.i.+p."
"I think I recognize this bracelet, Madame," observed Serge.
"Yes; you gave it to me," replied Lady Harton, quietly. "Semper--I beg your pardon, Madame, we Poles all speak Latin--Semper means 'Always!' It is a great word. On your wife's arm this bracelet will be well placed.
Au revoir, dear Prince. I wish you every happiness."
And bowing to Micheline with a regal bow, Lady Harton took the arm of a tall young man whom she had beckoned, and walked away.
Micheline, amazed, looked at the bracelet sparkling on her white wrist.
Without uttering a word Serge unfastened it, took it off his wife's arm, and advancing on the terrace, with a rapid movement flung it in the water. The bracelet gleamed in the night-air and made a brilliant splash; then the water resumed its tranquillity. Micheline, astonished, looked at Serge, who came toward her, and very humbly said:
"I beg your pardon."
The young wife did not answer, but her eyes filled with tears; a smile brightened her lips, and hurriedly taking his arm, she led him into the drawing-room.
Dancing was going on there. The young ladies of Pontoise, and the cream of Creil, had come to the fete, bent on not losing such an opportunity of enjoying themselves. Under the watchful eyes of their mothers, who, decked out in grand array, were seated along the walls, they were gamboling, in spite of the stifling heat, with all the impetuosity of young provincials habitually deprived of the pleasures of the ballroom.
Crossing the room, Micheline and Serge reached Madame Desvarennes's boudoir.
It was delightfully cool in there. Cayrol had taken refuge there with Jeanne, and Mademoiselle Susanne Herzog. This young girl felt uncomfortable at being a third party with the newly-married couple, and welcomed the arrival of the Prince and Micheline with pleasure. Her father had left her for a moment in Cayrol's care; but she had not seen him for more than an hour.
"Mademoiselle," said the Prince, gayly, "a little while ago, when I was pa.s.sing through the rooms, I heard these words: 'Loan, discount, liquidation.' Your father must have been there. Shall I go and seek him?"
"I should be very grateful," said the young girl.
"I will go."
And turning lightly on his heels, happy to escape Jeanne's looks, Serge reentered the furnace. At once he saw Herzog seated in the corner of a bay-window with one of the princ.i.p.al stock-brokers of Paris. He was speaking. The Prince went straight up to him.
"Sorry to draw you away from the sweets of conversation," said he, smiling; "but your daughter is waiting for you, and is anxious at your not coming."
"Faith! My daughter, yes. I will come and see you tomorrow," said he to his companion. "We will talk over this a.s.sociation: there is much to be gained by it."
The other, a man with a bloated face, and fair Dundreary whiskers, was eager to do business with him. Certainly the affair was good.
"Oh, my dear Prince, I am happy to be alone with you for a moment!" said Herzog, with that familiarity which was one of his means of becoming intimate with people. "I was going to compliment you! What a splendid position you have reached."
"Yes; I have married a charming woman," replied the Prince, coldly.
"And what a fortune!" insisted the financier. "Ah, it is worthy of the lot of a great lord such as you are! Oh, you are like those masterpieces of art which need a splendidly carved frame! Well, you have your frame, and well gilt too!"
He laughed and seemed pleased at Serge's happiness. He had taken one of his hands and was patting it softly between his own.
"Not a very 'convenient' mother-in-law, for instance," he went on, good-naturedly; "but you are so charming! Only you could have, coaxed Madame Desvarennes, and you have succeeded. Oh! she likes you, my dear Prince; she told me so only a little while ago. You have won her heart.
I don't know how you manage it, but you are irresistible! By the way, I was not there when the marriage contract was read, and I, forgot to ask Cayrol. Under what conditions art you married?"
The Prince looked at Herzog with a look that was hardly friendly.
But the financier appeared so indifferent, that Serge could not help answering him:
"My wife's fortune is settled on herself."
"Ah! ah! that is usual in Normandy!" replied Herzog with a grave look.
"I was told Madame Desvarennes was a clever woman and she has proved it.
And you signed the contract with your eyes shut, my dear Prince. It is perfect, just as a gentleman should do!"
He said this with a good-natured air. Then, suddenly lifting his eyes, and with an ironical smile playing on his lips, he added:
"You are bowled out, my dear fellow, don't you know?"
"Sir!" protested Serge with haughtiness.
"Don't cry out; it is too late, and would be useless," replied the financier. "Let me explain your position to you. Your hands are tied.
You cannot dispose of a sou belonging to your wife without her consent.
It is true, you have influence over her, happily for you. Still you must foresee that she will be guided by her mother. A strong woman, too, the mother! Ah, Prince, you have allowed yourself to be done completely. I would not have thought it of you."
Serge, nonplussed for a moment, regained his self-possession, and looked Herzog in the face:
"I don't know what idea you have formed of me, sir, and I don't know what object you have in speaking thus to me."
"My interest in you," interrupted the financier. "You are a charming fellow: you please me much. With your tastes, it is possible that in a brief time you may be short of money. Come and see me: I will put you into the way of business. Au revoir, Prince."
And without giving Serge time to answer him, Herzog reached the boudoir where his daughter was waiting with impatience. Behind him came the Prince looking rather troubled. The financier's words had awakened importunate ideas in his mind. Was it true that he had been duped by Madame Desvarennes, and that the latter, while affecting airs of greatness and generosity, had tied him like a noodle to her daughter's ap.r.o.n-string? He made an effort to regain his serenity.
"Micheline loves me and all will be well," said he to himself.
Madame Desvarennes joined the young married people. The rooms were clearing by degrees. Serge took Cayrol apart.
"What are you going to do to-night, my dear fellow?
"You know an apartment has been prepared for you here?"
"Yes, I have already thanked Madame Desvarennes, but I mean to go back to Paris. Our little paradise is prepared for us, and I wish to enter it to-night. I have my carriage and horses here. I am taking away my wife post-haste."
"That is an elopement," said Serge; gayly, "quite in the style of the regency!"
"Yes, my dear Prince, that's how we bankers do it," said Cayrol, laughing.
Then changing his tone:
"See, I vibrate, I am palpitating. I am hot and cold by turns. Just fancy, I have never loved before; my heart is whole, and I love to distraction!"
Serge instinctively glanced at Jeanne. She was seated, looking sad and tired.
Madame Desvarennes, between Jeanne and Micheline, had her arms twined round the two young girls. Regret filled her eyes. The mother felt that the last moments of her absolute reign were near, and she was contemplating with supreme adoration these two children who had grown up around her like two fragile and precious flowers. She was saying to them,