overpowered her, and when she awoke it was broad daylight and they were
in Provence.

From that moment everything was dazzling. The arrival at Marseilles; the
journey along the coast, the approach to Nice, were all matters of
ecstacy to Micheline. But it was when the carriage, which was waiting
for them at the railway station, stopped at the gates of the villa, that
she broke into raptures. She could not feast her eyes enough on the
scene which was before her. The blue sea, the sky without a cloud, the
white houses rising on the hill amid the dark foliage, and in the
distance the mountaintops covered with snow, and tinged with pink under
the brilliant rays of the sun. All this vigorous and slightly wild
nature surprised the Parisienne. It was a new experience. Dazzled by
the light and intoxicated with the perfumes, a sort of languor came over
her. She soon recovered and became quite strong--something altogether
new for her, and she felt thoroughly happy.

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.