This indifference made her mother positively jump.
“You speak very coolly about it! At the rate your husband is spending, there will be nothing left of your dowry in six months.”
“Well!” said the Princess, gayly, “you will give us another.”
Madame Desvarennes assumed her cold businesslike manner.
“Ta! ta! ta! Do you think there is no limit to my resources? I gave you four millions when you were married, represented by fifteen hundred thousand francs, in good stock, a house in the Rue de Rivoli, and eight hundred thousand francs which I prudently kept in the business, and for which I pay you interest. The fifteen hundred thousand francs have vanished. My lawyer came to tell me that the house in the Rue de Rivoli had been sold without a reinvestment taking place.”
The mistress stopped. She had spoken in that frank, determined, way of hers that was part of her strength. She looked fixedly at Micheline, and asked:
“Did you know this, my girl?”
The Princess, deeply troubled, because now it was not a question of sentiment, but of serious moment, answered, in a low tone:
“No, mamma.”
“How is that possible?” Madame Desvarennes demanded, hotly. “Nothing can be done without your signature.”