"You have four," interrupted Micheline. "Why do you complain?"
"I don't complain," retorted Madame Desvarennes, quickly.
"That's right!" said Micheline, gayly.
Then going toward Jeanne:
"But you are not speaking, you are so quiet; are you ill?"
Jeanne shuddered, and made an effort to soften the hard lines on her face.
"It is nothing. A little fatigue."
"And emotion," added Micheline. "This morning when we entered the church, at the sound of the organ, in the midst of flowers, surrounded by all our friends, I felt that I was whiter than my veil. And the crossing to my place seemed so long, I thought I should never get there. I did so, though. And now everybody calls me 'Madame' and some call me 'Princess.' It amuses me!"
Serge had approached.
"But you are a Princess," said he, smiling, "and everybody must call you so."