“You are a wise man,” resumed Suzanne.  “I, too, am a philosopher, and I live amid surroundings which do not please me.  I, unfortunately, lost my mother when I was very young, and although my father is very kind, he has been obliged to neglect me a little.  I see around me people who are millionaires or who aspire to be.  I am doomed to receive the attentions of such men as Le Bride and Du Tremblay—­empty-headed coxcombs, who court my money, and to whom I am not a woman, but a sack of ducats trimmed with lace.”

“These gentlemen are the modern Argonauts.  They are in search of the Golden Fleece,” observed Marechal.

“The Argonauts!” cried Suzanne, laughing.  “You are right.  I shall never call them anything else.”

“Oh, they will not understand you!” said Marechal, gayly.  “I don’t think they know much of mythology.”

“Well, you see I am not very happy in the bosom of riches,” continued the young girl.  “Do not abandon me.  Come and talk with me sometimes.  You will not chatter trivialities.  It will be a change from the others.”

And, nodding pleasantly to Marechal, Mademoiselle Herzog joined her father, who was gleaning details about the house of Desvarennes from Savinien.

The secretary remained silent for a moment.

“Strange girl!” he murmured.  “What a pity she has such a father.”

The door of the room in which Monsieur and Mademoiselle Herzog, Marechal and Savinien were, opened, and Madame Desvarennes entered, followed by her daughter, Cayrol, Serge and Pierre.  The room, at the extreme end of the villa, was square, surrounded on three sides by a gallery shut in by glass and stocked with greenhouse plants.  Lofty archways, half veiled with draperies, led to the gallery.  This room had been the favorite one of Countess Woreseff.  She had furnished it in Oriental style, with low seats and large divans, inviting one to rest and dream during the heat of the day.  In the centre of the apartment was a large ottoman, the middle of which formed a flower-stand.  Steps led down from the gallery to the terrace whence there was a most charming view of sea and land.

On seeing his aunt enter, Savinien rushed forward and seized both her hands.  Madame Desvarennes’s arrival was an element of interest in his unoccupied life.  The dandy guessed at some mysterious business and thought it possible that he might get to know it.  With open ears and prying eyes, he sought the meaning of the least words.

“If you knew, my dear aunt, how surprised I am to see you here,” he exclaimed in his hypocritical way.

“Not more so than I am to find myself here,” said she, with a smile.  “But, bah!  I have slipped my traces for a week.”

“And what are you going to do here?” continued Savinien.

“What everybody does.  By-the-bye, what do they do?” asked Madame Desvarennes, with vivacity.