d 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.

"Mother," she said, in trembling tones, "if ever you say one word to my
husband, take care! I shall never see you again!"

Madame Desvarennes flinched before her daughter. It was no longer the
weak Micheline who trusted to her tears, but a vehement woman ready to
defend him whom she loved. And as she remained silent, not daring to
speak again:

"Mother," continued Micheline, with sadness, yet firmly, "this
explanation was inevitable; I have suffered beforehand, knowing that I
should have to choose between my affection for my husband and my respect
for you."

"Between the one and the other," said the mistress, bitterly, "you don't
hesitate, I see."

"It is my duty; and if I failed in it, you yourself, with your good
sense, would see it."

"Oh! Micheline, could I have expected to find you thus?" cried the
mother, in despair. "What a change! It is not you who are speaking; it
is not my daughter. Fool that you are! Don't you see whither you are
being led? You, yourself, are preparing your own misfortune. Don't think
that my words are inspired by jealousy. A higher