The life of the Prince and the Princess became at Nice what it had been in Paris during the early days of their marriage. Visitors flocked to their house. All that the colony could reckon of well-known Parisians and foreigners of high repute presented themselves at the villa. The fetes recommenced. They gave receptions three times a week; the other evenings Serge went to the Cercle.
This absorbing life had gone on for two months. It was the beginning of February, and already nature was assuming a new appearance under the influence of spring. One evening, three people—two gentlemen and a lady—stepped out of a carriage at the villa gates, and found themselves face to face with a traveller who had come on foot. Two exclamations broke out simultaneously.
"Marechal!" "Monsieur Savinien!"
"You! at Nice? And by what miracle?"
"A miracle which makes you travel fifteen leagues an hour in exchange for a hundred and thirty-three francs first-class, and is called the Marseilles express!"
"I beg your pardon, my dear friend. I have not introduced you to
Monsieur and Mademoiselle Herzog."
"I have already had the honor of meeting Mademoiselle Herzog at Madame Desvarennes's," said Marechal, bowing to the young girl, without appearing to notice the father.
"You were going to the villa?" asked Savinien. "We, too, were going.
But how is my aunt? When did you leave her?"
"I have not left her."
"What's that you say?"