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,

"Well, the great day is over. You are both married. You don't belong to
me any longer. How I shall miss you! This morning I had two children,
and now--"

"You have four," interrupted Micheline. "Why do you complain?"

"I don't complain," retorted Madame Desvarennes, quickly.

"That's right!" said Micheline, gayly.

Then going toward Jeanne:

"But you are not speaking, you are so quiet; are you ill?"

Jeanne shuddered, and made an effort to soften the hard lines on her
face.

"It is nothing. A little fatigue."

"And emotion," added Micheline. "This morning when we entered the
church, at the sound of the organ, in the midst of flowers, surrounded
by all our friends, I felt that I was whiter than my veil. And the
crossing to my place seemed so long, I thought I should never get there.
I did so, though. And now everybody calls me 'Madame' and some call me
'Princess.' It amuses me!"

Serge had approached.

"But you are a Princess," said he, smiling, "and everybody must call you
so."

"Oh, not mamma, nor Jeanne, nor you," said the young wife, quickly;
"always call me Micheline. It will be less respectful, but it will be
more tender."

Madame Desvarennes could not resist drawing her daughter once more to
her heart.

"Dear child," she said with emotion, "you need affection, as flowers
need the sun! But I love you, there."

She stopped and added:

"We love you."

And she held out her hand to her son-in-law. Then changing the subject:

"But I am thinking, Cayrol, as you are returning to Paris, you might
take some orders for me which I will write out."

"What? Business? Even on my