f people and bent their steps in the
direction of the chateau. The Prince was advancing toward the terrace,
with an elegantly dressed and beautiful woman on his arm. Savinien, in
the midst of a circle of dandies, was picking the passers-by to pieces in
his easy-going way. Pierre and Marechal came behind these young men
without being noticed.

"Who is that hanging on the arm of our dear Prince?" asked a little fat
man, girt in a white satin waistcoat, and a spray of white lilac in his
buttonhole.

"Eh! Why, Le Brede, my boy, you don't know anything!" cried Savinien in a
bantering, jocose tone.

"Because I don't know that lovely fair woman?" said Le Brede, in a piqued
voice. "I don't profess to know the names of all the pretty women in
Paris!"

"In Paris? That woman from Paris? You have not looked at her. Come, open
your eyes. Pure English style, my friend."

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. A