Michael, behind her, saw that one sleeve was almost torn away, giving a glimpse of her white flesh, and the seductive hollow under her arm.
He repented his violence, and the clumsiness of his hands, which like those of a drunken sailor broke what he caressed.
Once more Alicia took pity on his childish embarrassment.
"No, don't worry about that. It is a dress I have had for two years: it is so old, that it tears just by looking at it. That is one of the inconveniences of walking with a beggar."
But she finally became worried by this tear which was so visible. She was going to enter Monte Carlo on foot or by street car. What would people say, seeing her in such a state!
"A pin: have you got a pin?"
This request increased the remorse of the Prince. Where could a man find a pin? While Alicia was feeling for one without avail, he thought of returning to the Museum or scaling the rocks to one of those houses where the employees of the Prince live. He would have given a hundred francs for a pin—but he remembered that his pockets were empty.
He began to search his clothes while she searched hers, although he was certain that it would be useless.
Suddenly he smiled triumphantly.
"Here is your pin."