oved clearly to her that he did not know how to
behave."

"Do you wish to prevent those who are cleared out from blowing out their
brains?" inquired Cayrol. "Compel the pawnbrokers of Monaco to lend a
louis on all pistols."

"Well," retorted young Monsieur Souverain, "when the louis is lost the
players will still be able to hang themselves."

"Yes," concluded Marechal, "then at any rate the rope will bring luck to
others."

"Gentlemen, do you know that what you have been relating to us is very
doleful?" said Suzanne Herzog. "Suppose, to vary our impressions, you
were to ask us to waltz?"

"Yes, on the terrace," said Le Brede, warmly. "A curtain of orange-trees
will protect us from the vulgar gaze."

"Oh! Mademoiselle, what a dream!" sighed Du Tremblay, approaching
Suzanne. "Waltzing with you! By moonlight."

"Yes, friend Pierrot!" sang Suzanne, bursting into a laugh.

Already the piano, vigorously attacked by Pierre, desirous of making
himself useful since he could not be agreeable, was heard in the next
room. Serge had slowly approached Jeanne.

"Will you do me the favor of dancing with me?" he asked, softly.

The young woman started; her cheeks became pale, and in a sharp tone she
answered:

"Why don't you ask your wife?"

Serge smiled.

"You or nobody."

Jeanne raised her eyes boldly, and looking at him in the face, said,
defiantly:

"Well, then, nobody!"

And, rising, she took the arm of Cayrol, who was advancing toward her.

The Prince remained motionless for a moment, following them with his
eyes. Then, seeing his wife alone with Madame Desvarennes, he went out
on the terrace. Already the couples were dancing on the polished marble.
Joyful bursts of laughter rose in the perfumed air that sweet March
night. A deep sorrow came over Serge; an intense disgust with all
things. The sea sparkled, lit up by the moon. He had a mad longing to
seize Jeanne in his arms and carry her far away from the world, across
that immense calm space which seemed made expressly to rock sweetly
eternal loves.

CHAPTER XV. MOTHER AND DAUGHTER

Micheline intended following her husband, but Madame Desvarennes,
without rising, took hold of her hand.

"Stay with me for a little while," she said, tenderly. "We have scarcely
exchanged ten words since my arrival. Come, tell me, are you pleased to
see me?"

"How can you ask me that?" answered Micheline, seating herself on the
sofa beside her mother.

"I ask you