“The day after my marriage.”

“Your husband had the impudence to ask for it the day after your marriage?”

Micheline smiled.

“He did not ask for it, mamma,” she replied, with sweetness; “I offered it to him.  You had settled all on me.”

“Prudently!  With a fellow like your husband!”

“Your mistrust must have been humiliating to him.  I was ashamed of it.  I said nothing to you, because I knew you would rather prevent the marriage, and I loved Serge.  I, therefore, signed the contract which you had had prepared.  Only the next day I gave a general power of attorney to my husband.”

Madame Desvarennes’s anger was over.  She was observing Micheline, and wished to find out the depth of the abyss into which her daughter had thrown herself with blind confidence.

“And what did he say then?” she inquired.

“Nothing,” answered Micheline, simply.  “Tears came to his eyes, and he kissed me.  I saw that this delicacy touched his heart and I was happy.  There, mamma,” she added with eyes sparkling at the remembrance of the pleasure she had experienced, “he may spend as much as he likes; I am amply repaid beforehand.”

Madame Desvarennes shrugged her shoulders, and said: 

“My dear child, you are mad enough to be locked up.  What is there about the fellow to turn every woman’s brain?”

“Every woman’s?” exclaimed Micheline, anxiously, looking at her mother.

“That is a manner of speaking.  But, my dear, you must understand that I cannot be satisfied with what you have just told me.  A tear and a kiss!  Bah!  That is not worth your dowry.”

“Come, mamma, do let me be happy.”

“You can be happy without committing follies.  You do not need a racing-stable.”

“Oh, he has chosen such pretty colors,” interrupted Micheline, with a smile.  “Pearl-gray and silver, and pink cap.  It is charming!”

“You think so?  Well, you are not difficult to please.  And the club?  What do you say to his gambling?”

Micheline turned pale, and with a constraint which hurt her mother, said: 

“Is it necessary to make a fuss about a few games at bouillotte?”

This continual defense of Serge exasperated Madame Desvarennes.

“Don’t talk to me,” she continued, violently.  “I am well informed on that subject.  He leaves you alone every evening to go and play with gentlemen who turn up the king with a dexterity the Legitimists must envy.  My dear, shall I tell you his fortune?  He commenced with cards; he continues with horses; he will finish with worthless women!”

“Mamma!” cried Micheline, wounded to the heart.

“And your money will pay the piper!  But, happily, I am here to put your household matters right.  I am going to keep your gentleman so well under that in future he will walk straight, I’ll warrant you!”

Micheline rose and stood before her mother, looking so pale that the latter was frightened.