ssible. You either did not hear or
did not understand. Monsieur de Servigny is too rich for you, and
too much of a Parisian to marry." Yvette rose softly. She added:
"But if he loves me as he says he does, mamma?"

Her mother replied, with some impatience: "I thought you big enough
and wise enough not to have such ideas. Servigny is a man-about-town
and an egotist. He will never marry anyone but a woman of his set
and his fortune. If he asked you in marriage, it is only that he
wants--"

The Marquise, incapable of expressing her meaning, was silent for a
moment, then continued: "Come now, leave me alone and go to bed."

And the young girl, as if she had learned what she sought to find
out, answered in a docile voice: "Yes, mamma!"

She kissed her mother on the forehead and withdrew with a calm step.
As she reached the door, the Marquise called out: "And your
sunstroke?" she said.

"I did not have one at all. It was that which caused everything."

The Marquise added: "We will not speak of it again. Only don't stay
alone with him for some time from now, and be very sure that he will
never marry you, do you understand, and that he merely means
to--compromise you."

She could not find better words to express her thought. Yvette went
to her room. Madame Obardi began to dream. Living for years in an
opulent and loving repose, she had carefully put aside all
reflections which might annoy or sadden her. Never had she been
willing to ask herself the question.--What would become of Yvette?
It would be soon enough to think about the difficulties when they
arrived. She well knew, from her experience, that her daughter could
not marry a man who was rich and of good society, excepting by a
totally improbable chance, by one of those surprises of love which
place adventuresses on thrones.

She had not considered it, furthermore, being too much occupied with
herself to make any plans which did not directly concern herself.

Yvette would do as her mother, undoubtedly. She would lead a gay
life. Why not? But the Marquise had never dared ask when, or how.
That would all come about in time.

And now her daughter, all of a sudden, without warning, had asked
one of those questions which could not be answered, forcing her to
take an attitude in an affair, so delicate, so dangerous in every
respect, and so disturbing to the conscience which a woman is
expected to show in matters concerning her daughter.

Sometimes nodding but nev