SERGE PANINE

By GEORGES OHNET

With a General Introduction to the Series by GASTON BOISSIER, SecretairePerpetuel de l'academie Francaise. 

GENERAL INTRODUCTION

1905

BY ROBERT ARNOT

The editor-in-chief of the Maison Mazarin--a man of letters whocherishes an enthusiastic yet discriminating love for the literary andartistic glories of France--formed within the last two years the greatproject of collecting and presenting to the vast numbers of intelligentreaders of whom New World boasts a series of those great and undyingromances which, since 1784, have received the crown of merit awarded bythe French Academy--that coveted assurance of immortality in letters andin art. 

In the presentation of this serious enterprise for the criticism andofficial sanction of The Academy, 'en seance', was included a requestthat, if possible, the task of writing a preface to the series should beundertaken by me. Official sanction having been bestowed upon the plan, I, as the accredited officer of the French Academy, convey to you itshearty appreciation, endorsement, and sympathy with a project so noblyartistic. It is also my duty, privilege, and pleasure to point out, atthe request of my brethren, the peculiar importance and lasting valueof this series to all who would know the inner life of a people whosegreatness no turns of fortune have been able to diminish. 

In the last hundred years France has experienced the most terriblevicissitudes, but, vanquished or victorious, triumphant or abased, neverhas she lost her peculiar gift of attracting the curiosity of the world. She interests every living being, and even those who do not love herdesire to know her. To this peculiar attraction which radiates fromher, artists and men of letters can well bear witness, since it is toliterature and to the arts, before all, that France owes such livingand lasting power. In every quarter of the civilized world there aredistinguished writers, painters, and eminent musicians, but inFrance they exist in greater numbers than elsewhere. Moreover, itis universally conceded that French writers and artists have thisparticular and praiseworthy quality: they are most accessible to peopleof other countries. Without losing their national characteristics, theypossess the happy gift of universality. To speak of letters alone:the books that Frenchmen write are read, translated, dramatized, andimitated everywhere; so it is not strange that these books give toforeigners a desire for a nearer and more intimate acquaintance withFrance. 

Men preserve an almost innate habit of resorting to Paris from almostevery quarter of the globe. For many years American visitors have beenmore numerous than others, although the journey from the United Statesis long and costly. But I am sure that when for the first time they seeParis--its palaces, its churches, its museums--and visit Versailles, Fontainebleau, and Chantilly, they do not regret the travail they haveundergone. Meanwhile, however, I ask myself whether such sightseeingis all that, in coming hither, they wish to accomplish. Intelligenttravellers--and, as a rule, it is the intelligent class that feelsthe need of the educative influence of travel--look at our beautifulmonuments, wander through the streets and squares among the crowds thatfill them, and, observing them, I ask myself again: Do not such peopledesire to study at closer range these persons who elbow them as theypass; do they not wish to enter the houses of which they see but thefacades; do they not wish to know how Parisians live and speak and actby their firesides? But time, alas! is lacking for the formation ofthose intimate friendships which would bring this knowledge within theirgrasp. French homes are rarely open to birds of passage, and visitorsleave us with regret that they have not been able to see more than thesurface of our civilization or to recognize by experience the note ofour inner home life. 

How, then, shall this void be filled? Speaking in the first person, thesimplest means appears to be to study those whose profession it is todescribe the society of the time, and primarily, therefore, the works ofdramatic writers, who are supposed to draw a faithful picture of it. Sowe go to the theatre, and usually derive keen pleasure therefrom. Butis pleasure all that we expect to find? What we should look forabove everything in a comedy or a drama is a representation, exact aspossible, of the manners and characters of the dramatis persona of theplay; and perhaps the conditions under which the play was written donot allow such representation. The exact and studied portrayal ofa character demands from the author long preparation, and cannot beaccomplished in a few hours. From, the first scene to the last, eachtale must be posed in the author's mind exactly as it will be proved tobe at the end. It is the author's aim and mission to place completelybefore his audience the souls of the "agonists" laying bare thecomplications of motive, and throwing into relief the delicate shadesof motive that sway them. Often, too, the play is produced before anumerous audience--an audience often distrait, always pressed for time, and impatient of the least delay. Again, the public in general requirethat they shall be able to understand without difficulty, and at firstthought, the characters the author seeks to present, making it necessarythat these characters be depicted from their most salient sides--whichare too often vulgar and unattractive. 

In our comedies and dramas it is not the individual that is drawn, butthe type. Where the individual alone is real, the type is a myth of theimagination--a pure invention. And invention is the mainspring of thetheatre, which rests purely upon illusion, and does not please us unlessit begins by deceiving us. 

I believe, then, that if one seeks to know the world exactly as it is, the theatre does not furnish the means whereby one can pursue the study. A far better opportunity for knowing the private life of a people isavailable through the medium of its great novels. The novelist dealswith each person as an individual. He speaks to his reader at an hourwhen the mind is disengaged from worldly affairs, and he can addwithout restraint every detail that seems needful to him to complete therounding of his story. He can return at will, should he choose, to thesource of the plot he is unfolding, in order that his reader may betterunderstand him; he can emphasize and dwell upon those details which anaudience in a theatre will not allow. 

The reader, being at leisure, feels no impatience, for he knows that hecan at any time lay down or take up the book. It is the consciousness ofthis privilege that gives him patience, should he encounter a dull pagehere or there. He may hasten or delay his reading, according to theinterest he takes in his romance-nay, more, he can return to the earlierpages, should he need to do so, for a better comprehension of someobscure point. In proportion as he is attracted and interested by theromance, and also in the degree of concentration with which he readsit, does he grasp better the subtleties of the narrative. No shade ofcharacter drawing escapes him. He realizes, with keener appreciation, the most delicate of human moods, and the novelist is not compelled tointroduce the characters to him, one by one, distinguishing them only bythe most general characteristics, but can describe each of those littleindividual idiosyncrasies that contribute to the sum total of a livingpersonality. 

When I add that the dramatic author is always to a certain extent aslave to the public, and must ever seek to please the passing taste ofhis time, it will be recognized that he is often, alas! compelled tosacrifice his artistic leanings to popular caprice-that is, if he hasthe natural desire that his generation should applaud him. 

As a rule, with the theatre-going masses, one person follows the fadsor fancies of others, and individual judgments are too apt to beirresistibly swayed by current opinion. But the novelist, entirelyindependent of his reader, is not compelled to conform himself to theopinion of any person, or to submit to his caprices. He is absolutelyfree to picture society as he sees it, and we therefore can have moreconfidence in his descriptions of the customs and characters of the day. 

It is precisely this view of the case that the editor of the serieshas taken, and herein is the raison d'etre of this collection ofgreat French romances. The choice was not easy to make. That form ofliterature called the romance abounds with us. France has alwaysloved it, for French writers exhibit a curiosity--and I may say anindiscretion--that is almost charming in the study of customs and moralsat large; a quality that induces them to talk freely of themselves andof their neighbors, and to set forth fearlessly both the good and thebad in human nature. In this fascinating phase of literature, Francenever has produced greater examples than of late years. 

In the collection here presented to American readers will be foundthose works especially which reveal the intimate side of French sociallife-works in which are discussed the moral problems that affect mostpotently the life of the world at large. If inquiring spirits seek tolearn the customs and manners of the France of any age, they must lookfor it among her crowned romances. They need go back no farther thanLudovic Halevy, who may be said to open the modern epoch. In theromantic school, on its historic side, Alfred de Vigny must be lookedupon as supreme. De Musset and Anatole France may be taken as revealingauthoritatively the moral philosophy of nineteenth-century thought. Imust not omit to mention the Jacqueline of Th. Bentzon, and the "Attic"Philosopher of Emile Souvestre, nor the great names of Loti, Claretie, Coppe, Bazin, Bourget, Malot, Droz, De Massa, and last, but not least, our French Dickens, Alphonse Daudet. I need not add more; the very namesof these "Immortals" suffice to commend the series to readers in allcountries. 

One word in conclusion: America may rest assured that her studentsof international literature will find in this series of 'ouvragescouronnes' all that they may wish to know of France at her ownfireside--a knowledge that too often escapes them, knowledge thatembraces not only a faithful picture of contemporary life in the Frenchprovinces, but a living and exact description of French society inmodern times. They may feel certain that when they have read theseromances, they will have sounded the depths and penetrated into thehidden intimacies of France, not only as she is, but as she would beknown. 

GASTON BOISSIER

SECRETAIRE PERPETUEL DE L'ACADEMIE FRANCAISE

GEORGES OHNET

The only French novelist whose books have a circulation approaching theworks of Daudet and of Zola is Georges Ohnet, a writer whose popularityis as interesting as his stories, because it explains, though it doesnot excuse, the contempt the Goncourts had for the favor of the greatFrench public, and also because it shows how the highest form ofRomanticism still ferments beneath the varnish of Naturalism in what iscalled genius among the great masses of readers. 

Georges Ohnet was born in Paris, April 3, 1848, the son of an architect. He was destined for the Bar, but was early attracted by journalism andliterature. Being a lawyer it was not difficult for him to join theeditorial staff of Le Pays, and later Le Constitutionnel. This was soonafter the Franco-German War. His romances, since collected underthe title 'Batailles de la Vie', appeared first in 'Le Figaro, L'Illustration, and Revue des Deux Mondes', and have been exceedinglywell received by the public. This relates also to his dramas, some ofhis works meeting with a popular success rarely extended to any author. For some time Georges Ohnet did not find the same favor with thecritics, who often attacked him with a passionate violence and unusualseverity. True, a high philosophical flow of thoughts cannot be detectedin his writings, but nevertheless it is certain that the characters andthe subjects of which he treats are brilliantly sketched and clearlydeveloped. They are likewise of perfect morality and honesty. 

There was expected of him, however, an idea which was not quiterealized. Appearing upon the literary stage at a period when Naturalismwas triumphant, it was for a moment believed that he would restoreIdealism in the manner of George Sand. 

In any case the hostile critics have lost. For years public opinion hasexalted him, and the reaction is the more significant when compared withthe tremendous criticism launched against his early romances and novels. 

A list of his works follows:

Serge Panine (1881), crowned by the French Academy, has since gonethrough one hundred and fifty French editions; Le Maitre des Forges(1882), a prodigious success, two hundred and fifty editions beingprinted (1900); La Comtesse Sarah (1882); Lise Fleuyon (1884); La GrandeMaynieye (1886); Les Dames de Croix-Mort (1886); Volonte (1888); LeDocteur Rameau (1889); Deynier Amour (1889); Le Cure de Favieyes (1890);Dette de Haine (1891); Nemsod et Cie. (1892); Le Lendemain des Amours(1893); Le Droit de l'Enfant (1894. ); Les Vielles Rancunes (1894); LaDame en Gris (1895); La Fille du Depute (1896); Le Roi de Paris (1898);Au Fond du Gouffre (1899); Gens de la Noce (1900); La Tenibreuse (1900);Le Cyasseur d'Affaires (1901); Le Crepuscule (1901); Le Marche a l'Amour(1902). 

Ohnet's novels are collected under the titles, 'Noir et Rose (1887) andL'Ame de Pierre (1890). 

The dramatic writings of Georges Ohnet, mostly taken from his novels, have greatly contributed to his reputation. Le Maitre des Forges wasplayed for a full year (Gymnase, 1883); it was followed by Serge Panine(1884); La Comtesse Sarah (1887). La Grande Mayniere (1888), met alsowith a decided and prolonged success; Dernier Amour (Gymnase, 1890);Colonel Roquebrune (Porte St. Martin, 1897). Before that he had alreadywritten the plays Regina Sarpi (1875) and Marthe (1877), which yet holda prominent place upon the French stage. 

I have shown in this rapid sketch that a man of the stamp of GeorgesOhnet must have immortal qualities in himself, even though flayed androasted alive by the critics. He is most assuredly an artist in form, isendowed with a brilliant style, and has been named "L'Historiographede la bourgeoise contemporaine. " Indeed, antagonism to plutocracy andhatred of aristocracy are the fundamental theses in almost every one ofhis books. 

His exposition, I repeat, is startlingly neat, the development of hisplots absolutely logical, and the world has acclaimed his ingenuity indramatic construction. He is truly, and in all senses, of the Ages. 

 VICTOR CHERBOULIEZ de l'Academie Francaise

SERGE PANINE

BOOK 1. 

CHAPTER I. THE HOUSE OF DESVARENNES

The firm of Desvarennes has been in an ancient mansion in the Rue SaintDominique since 1875; it is one of the best known and most important inFrench industry. The counting-houses are in the wings of the buildinglooking upon the courtyard, which were occupied by the servants when thefamily whose coat-of-arms has been effaced from above the gate-way werestill owners of the estate. 

Madame Desvarennes inhabits the mansion which she has had magnificentlyrenovated. A formidable rival of the Darblays, the great millers ofFrance, the firm of Desvarennes is a commercial and political power. Inquire in Paris about its solvency, and you will be told that you maysafely advance twenty millions of francs on the signature of the head ofthe firm. And this head is a woman. 

This woman is remarkable. Gifted with keen understanding and a firmwill, she had in former times vowed to make a large fortune, and she haskept her word. 

She was the daughter of a humble packer of the Rue Neuve-Coquenard. Toward 1848 she married Michel Desvarennes, who was then a journeymanbaker in a large shop in the Chaussee d'Antin. With the thousand francswhich the packer managed to give his daughter by way of dowry, the youngcouple boldly took a shop and started a little bakery business. Thehusband kneaded and baked the bread, and the young wife, seated at thecounter, kept watch over the till. Neither on Sundays nor on holidayswas the shop shut. 

Through the window, between two pyramids of pink and blue packets ofbiscuits, one could always catch sight of the serious-looking MadameDesvarennes, knitting woollen stockings for her husband while waitingfor customers. With her prominent forehead, and her eyes always bent onher work, this woman appeared the living image of perseverance. 

At the end of five years of incessant work, and possessing twentythousand francs, saved sou by sou, the Desvarennes left the slopes ofMontmartre, and moved to the centre of Paris. They were ambitiousand full of confidence. They set up in the Rue Vivienne, in a shopresplendent with gilding and ornamented with looking-glasses. Theceiling was painted in panels with bright hued pictures that caught theeyes of the passers-by. The window-shelves were of white marble, and thecounter, where Madame Desvarennes was still enthroned, was of a widthworthy of the receipts that were taken every day. Business increaseddaily; the Desvarennes continued to be hard and systematic workers. The class of customers alone had changed; they were more numerousand richer. The house had a specialty for making small rolls for therestaurants. Michel had learned from the Viennese bakers how to makethose golden balls which tempt the most rebellious appetite, and which, when in an artistically folded damask napkin, set off a dinner-table. 

About this time Madame Desvarennes, while calculating how much themillers must gain on the flour they sell to the bakers, resolved, inorder to lessen expenses, to do without middlemen and grind her owncorn. Michel, naturally timid, was frightened when his wife disclosed tohim the simple project which she had formed. Accustomed to submit to thewill of her whom he respectfully called "the mistress, " and of whom hewas but the head clerk, he dared not oppose her. But, a red-tapist bynature, and hating innovations, owing to weakness of mind, he trembledinwardly and cried in agony:

"Wife, you'll ruin us. "

The mistress calmed the poor man's alarm; she tried to impart to himsome of her confidence, to animate him with her hope, but withoutsuccess, so she went on without him. A mill was for sale at Jouy, on thebanks of the Oise; she paid ready money for it, and a few weeks laterthe bakery in the Rue Vivienne was independent of every one. She groundher own flour, and from that time business increased considerably. Feeling capable of carrying out large undertakings, and, moreover, desirous of giving up the meannesses of retail trade, MadameDesvarennes, one fine day, sent in a tender for supplying bread to themilitary hospitals. It was accepted, and from that time the house rankedamong the most important. On seeing the Desvarennes take their daringflight, the leading men in the trade had said:

"They have system and activity, and if they do not upset on the way, they will attain a high position. "

But the mistress seemed to have the gift of divination. She workedsurely--if she struck out one way you might be certain that successwas there. In all her enterprises, "good luck" stood close by her; shescented failures from afar, and the firm never made a bad debt. StillMichel continued to tremble. The first mill had been followed by manymore; then the old system appeared insufficient to Madame Desvarennes. As she wished to keep up with the increase of business she hadsteam-mills built, --which are now grinding three hundred million francs'worth of corn every year. 

Fortune had favored the house immensely, but Michel continued totremble. From time to time when the mistress launched out a newbusiness, he timidly ventured on his usual saying:

"Wife, you're going to ruin us. "

But one felt it was only for form's sake, and that he himself nolonger meant what he said. Madame Desvarennes received this plaintiveremonstrance with a calm smile, and answered, maternally, as to a child:

"There, there, don't be frightened. "

Then she would set to work again, and direct with irresistible vigor thearmy of clerks who peopled her counting-houses. 

In fifteen years' time, by prodigious efforts of will and energy, Madame Desvarennes had made her way from the lonely and muddy RueNeuve-Coquenard to the mansion in the Rue Saint-Dominique. Of the bakerythere was no longer question. It was some time since the business in theRue Vivienne had been transferred to the foreman of the shop. The flourtrade alone occupied Madame Desvarennes's attention. She ruled theprices in the market; and great bankers came to her office and didbusiness with her on a footing of equality. She did not become anyprouder for it, she knew too well the strength and weakness of lifeto have pride; her former plain dealing had not stiffened intoself-sufficiency. Such as one had known her when beginning business, such one found her in the zenith of her fortune. Instead of a woollengown she wore a silk one, but the color was still black; her languagehad not become refined; she retained the same blunt familiar accent, andat the end of five minutes' conversation with any one of importance shecould not resist calling him "my dear, " to come morally near him. Hercommands had more fulness. In giving her orders, she had the manner ofa commander-in-chief, and it was useless to haggle when she had spoken. The best thing to do was to obey, as well and as promptly as possible. 

Placed in a political sphere, this marvellously gifted woman wouldhave been a Madame Roland; born to the throne, she would have been aCatherine II. ; there was genius in her. Sprung from the lower ranks, her superiority had given her wealth; had she come from the higher, thegreat mind might have governed the world. 

Still she was not happy; she had been married fifteen years, and herfireside was devoid of a cradle. During the first years she had rejoicedat not having a child. Where could she have found time to occupy herselfwith a baby? Business engrossed her attention; she had no leisure toamuse herself with trifles. Maternity seemed to her a luxury forrich women; she had her fortune to make. In the struggle against thedifficulties attending the enterprise she had begun, she had not hadtime to look around her and perceive that her home was lonely. Sheworked from morning till night. Her whole life was absorbed in thiswork, and when night came, overcome with fatigue, she fell asleep, herhead filled with cares which stifled all tricks of the imagination. 

Michel grieved, but in silence; his feeble and dependent nature missed achild. He, whose mind lacked occupation, thought of the future. He saidto himself that the day when the dreamt-of fortune came would be morewelcome if there were an heir to whom to leave it. What was the goodof being rich, if the money went to collateral relatives? There washis nephew Savinien, a disagreeable urchin whom he looked on withindifference; and he was biased regarding his brother, who had all butfailed several times in business, and to whose aid he had come to savethe honor of the name. The mistress had not hesitated to help him, andhad prevented the signature of "Desvarennes" being protested. She hadnot taunted him, having as large a heart as she had a mind. But Michelhad felt humiliated to see his own folk make a gap in the financialedifice erected so laboriously by his wife. Out of this had graduallysprung a sense of dissatisfaction with the Desvarennes of the otherbranch, which manifested itself by a marked coolness, when, by chance, his brother came to the house, accompanied by his son Savinien. 

And then the paternity of his brother made him secretly jealous. Whyshould that incapable fellow, who succeeded in nothing, have a son? Itwas only those ne'er-do-well sort of people who were thus favored. He, Michel, already called the rich Desvarennes, he had not a son. Was itjust? But where is there justice in this world?

The first time that she saw him with a downcast face the mistress hadquestioned him, and he had frankly expressed his regrets. But he hadbeen so repelled by his wife, in whose heart a great trouble, steadilyrepressed, however, had been produced, that he never dared to recur tothe subject. 

He suffered in silence. But he no longer suffered alone. Like anoverflowing river that finds an outlet in the valley, which itinundates, the longings for maternity, hitherto repressed by thepreoccupations of business, had suddenly seized Madame Desvarennes. 

Strong and unyielding, she struggled and would not own herselfconquered. Still she became sad. Her voice sounded less sonorouslyin the offices where she gave an order; her energetic nature seemedsubdued. Now she looked around her. She beheld prosperity made stable byincessant work, respect gained by spotless honesty; she had attained thegoal which she had marked out in her ambitious dreams, as being paradiseitself. Paradise was there; but it lacked the angel. They had no child. 

From that day a change came over this woman, slowly but surely; scarcelyperceptible to strangers, but easy to be seen by those around her. Shebecame benevolent, and gave away considerable sums of money, especiallyto children's "Homes. " But when the good people who governed theseestablishments, lured on by her generosity, came to ask her to be ontheir committee of management, she became angry, asking them if theywere joking with her? What interest could those brats have for her? Shehad other fish to fry. She gave them what they needed, and whatmore could they want? The fact was she felt weak and troubled beforechildren. But within her a powerful and unknown voice had arisen, andthe hour was not far distant when the bitter wave of her regrets was tooverflow and be made manifest. 

She did not like Savinien, her nephew, and kept all her sweetness forthe son of one of their old neighbors in the Rue Neuve-Coquenard, asmall haberdasher, who had not been able to get on, but continued humblyto sell thread and needles to the thrifty folks of the neighborhood. The haberdasher, Mother Delarue, as she was called, had remained a widowafter one year of married life. Pierre, her boy, had grown up under theshadow of the bakery, the cradle of the Desvarennes's fortunes. 

On Sundays the mistress would give him a gingerbread or a cracknel, andamuse herself with his baby prattle. She did not lose sight of himwhen she removed to the Rue Vivienne. Pierre had entered the elementaryschool of the neighborhood, and by his precocious intelligence andexceptional application, had not been long in getting to the top of hisclass. The boy had left school after gaining an exhibition admittinghim to the Chaptal College. This hard worker, who was in a fair way ofmaking his own position without costing his relatives anything, greatlyinterested Madame Desvarennes. She found in this plucky nature astriking analogy to herself. She formed projects for Pierre's future;in fancy she saw him enter the Polytechnic school, and leave it withhonors. The young man had the choice of becoming a mining or civilengineer, and of entering the government service. 

He was hesitating what to do when the mistress came and offered him asituation in her firm as junior partner; it was a golden bridge that sheplaced before him. With his exceptional capacities he was not longin giving to the house a new impulse. He perfected the machinery, andtriumphantly defied all competition. All this was a happy dream in whichPierre was to her a real son; her home became his, and she monopolizedhim completely. But suddenly a shadow came o'er the spirit of herdreams. Pierre's mother, the little haberdasher, proud of her son, wouldshe consent to give him up to a stranger? Oh! if Pierre had only beenan orphan! But one could not rob a mother of her son! And MadameDesvarennes stopped the flight of her imagination. She followed Pierrewith anxious looks; but she forbade herself to dispose of the youth: hedid not belong to her. 

This woman, at the age of thirty-five, still young in heart, wasdisturbed by feelings which she strove, but vainly, to rule. She hidthem especially from her husband, whose repining chattering she feared. If she had once shown him her weakness he would have overwhelmed herdaily with the burden of his regrets. But an unforeseen circumstanceplaced her at Michel's mercy. 

Winter had come, bringing December and its snow. The weather thisyear was exceptionally inclement, and traffic in the streets was sodifficult, business was almost suspended. The mistress left her desertedoffices and retired early to her private apartments. The husband andwife spent their evenings alone. They sat there, facing each other, atthe fireside. A shade concentrated the light of the lamp upon the tablecovered with expensive knick-knacks. The ceiling was sometimes vaguelylighted up by a glimmer from the stove which glittered on the giltcornices. Ensconced in deep comfortable armchairs, the pair respectivelycaressed their favorite dream without speaking of it. 

Madame Desvarennes saw beside her a little pink-and-white baby girl, toddling on the carpet. She heard her words, understood her language, untranslatable to all others than a mother. Then bedtime came. Thechild, with heavy eyelids, let her little fair-haired head fall on hershoulders. Madame Desvarennes took her in her arms and undressed herquietly, kissing her bare and dimpled arms. It was exquisite enjoymentwhich stirred her heart deliciously. She saw the cradle, and devouredthe child with her eyes. She knew that the picture was a myth. Butwhat did it matter to her? She was happy. Michel's voice broke on herreverie. 

"Wife, " said he, "this is Christmas Eve; and as there are only us two, suppose you put your slipper on the hearth. "

Madame Desvarennes rose. Her eyes vaguely turned toward the hearth onwhich the fire was dying, and beside the upright of the large sculpturedmantelpiece she beheld for a moment a tiny shoe, belonging to the childwhich she loved to see in her dreams. Then the vision vanished, andthere was nothing left but the lonely hearth. A sharp pain tore herswollen heart; a sob rose to her lips, and, slowly, two tears rolleddown her cheeks. Michel, quite pale, looked at her in silence; he heldout his hand to her, and said, in a trembling voice:

"You were thinking about it, eh?"

Madame Desvarennes bowed her head, twice, silently, and without addinganother word, the pair fell into each other's arms and wept. 

From that day they hid nothing from each other, and shared theirtroubles and regrets in common. The mistress unburdened her heart bymaking a full confession, and Michel, for the first time in his life, learned the depth of soul of his companion to its inmost recesses. Thiswoman, so energetic, so obstinate, was, as it were, broken down. The springs of her will seemed worn out. She felt despondencies andwearinesses until then unknown. Work tired her. She did not venture downto the offices; she talked of giving up business, which was a bad sign. She longed for country air. Were they not rich enough? With their simpletastes so much money was unnecessary. In fact, they had no wants. Theywould go to some pretty estate in the suburbs of Paris, live there andplant cabbages. Why work? they had no children. 

Michel agreed to these schemes. For a long time he had wished forrepose. Often he had feared that his wife's ambition would lead them toofar. But now, since she stopped of her own accord, it was all for thebest. 

At this juncture their solicitor informed them that, near to theirworks, the Cernay estate was to be put up for sale. Very often, whengoing from Jouy to the mills, Madame Desvarennes had noticed thechateau, the slate roofs of the turrets of which rose gracefully from amass of deep verdure. The Count de Cernay, the last representative of anoble race, had just died of consumption, brought on by reckless living, leaving nothing behind him but debts and a little girl two years old. Her mother, an Italian singer and his mistress, had left him one morningwithout troubling herself about the child. Everything was to be sold, byorder of the Court. 

Some most lamentable incidents had saddened the Count's last hours. Thebailiffs had entered the house with the doctor when he came to pay hislast call, and the notices of the sale were all but posted up before thefuneral was over. Jeanne, the orphan, scared amid the troubles of thiswretched end, seeing unknown men walking into the reception-rooms withtheir hats on, hearing strangers speaking loudly and with arrogance, hadtaken refuge in the laundry. It was there that Madame Desvarennes foundher, playing, plainly dressed in a little alpaca frock, her pretty hairloose and falling on her shoulders. She looked astonished at what shehad seen; silent, not daring to run or sing as formerly in the greatdesolate house whence the master had just been taken away forever. 

With the vague instinct of abandoned children who seek to attachthemselves to some one or some thing, Jeanne clung to MadameDesvarennes, who, ready to protect, and longing for maternity, took thechild in her arms. The gardener's wife acted as guide during her visitover the property. Madame Desvarennes questioned her. She knew nothingof the child except what she had heard from the servants when theygossiped in the evenings about their late master. They said Jeanne wasa bastard. Of her relatives they knew nothing. The Count had an aunt inEngland who was married to a rich lord; but he had not corresponded withher lately. The little one then was reduced to beggary as the estate wasto be sold. 

The gardener's wife was a good woman and was willing to keep the childuntil the new proprietor came; but when once affairs were settled, shewould certainly go and make a declaration to the mayor, and take her tothe workhouse. Madame Desvarennes listened in silence. One word only hadstruck her while the woman was speaking. The child was without support, without ties, and abandoned like a poor lost dog. The little one waspretty too; and when she fixed her large deep eyes on that improvisedmother, who pressed her so tenderly to her heart, she seemed to imploreher not to put her down, and to carry her away from the mourning thattroubled her mind and the isolation that froze her heart. 

Madame Desvarennes, very superstitious, like a woman of the people, began to think that, perhaps, Providence had brought her to Cernay thatday and had placed the child in her path. It was perhaps a reparationwhich heaven granted her, in giving her the little girl she so longedfor. Acting unhesitatingly, as she did in everything, she left her namewith the woman, carried Jeanne to her carriage, and took her to Paris, promising herself to make inquiries to find her relatives. 

A month later, the property of Cernay pleasing her, and the researchesfor Jeanne's friends not proving successful, Madame Desvarennes tookpossession of the estate and the child into the bargain. 

Michel welcomed the child without enthusiasm. The little stranger wasindifferent to him; he would have preferred adopting a boy. The mistresswas delighted. Her maternal instincts, so long stifled, developed fully. She made plans for the future. Her energy returned; she spoke loudly andfirmly. But in her appearance there was revealed an inward contentmentnever remarked before, which made her sweeter and more benevolent. Sheno longer spoke of retiring from business. The discouragement which hadseized her left her as if by magic. The house which had been so dullfor some months became noisy and gay. The child, like a sunbeam, hadscattered the clouds. 

It was then that the most unlooked-for phenomenon, which was soconsiderably to influence Madame Desvarennes's life, occurred. At themoment when the mistress seemed provided by chance with the heiress somuch longed for, she learned with surprise that she was about to becomea mother! After sixteen years of married life, this discovery was almosta discomfiture. What would have been delight formerly was now a causefor fear. She, almost an old woman!

There was an incredible commotion in the business world when the newsbecame known. The younger branch of Desvarennes had witnessed Jeanne'sarrival with little satisfaction, and were still more gloomy when theylearned that the chances of their succeeding to great wealth were over. Still they did not lose all hopes. At thirty-five years of age onecannot always tell how these little affairs will come off. An accidentwas possible. But none occurred; all passed off well. 

Madame Desvarennes was as strong physically as she was morally, andproved victorious by bringing into the world a little girl, who wasnamed Michelins in honor of her father. The mistress's heart was largeenough to hold two children; she kept the orphan she had adopted, andbrought her up as if she had been her very own. Still there was soon anenormous difference in her manner of loving Jeanne and Michelins. Thismother had for the long-wished-for child an ardent, mad, passionate lovelike that of a tigress for her cubs. She had never loved her husband. All the tenderness which had accumulated in her heart blossomed, and itwas like spring. 

This autocrat, who had never allowed contradiction, and before whom allher dependents bowed either with or against the grain, was now led inher turn; the bronze of her character became like wax in the little pinkhands of her daughter. The commanding woman bent before the little fairhead. There was nothing good enough for Micheline. Had the mother ownedthe world she would have placed it at the little one's feet. One tearfrom the child upset her. If on one of the most important subjectsMadame Desvarennes had said "No, " and Micheline came and said "Yes, "the hitherto resolute will became subordinate to the caprice of a child. They knew it in the house and acted upon it. This manoeuvre succeededeach time, although Madame Desvarennes had seen through it from thefirst. It appeared as if the mother felt a secret joy in provingunder all circumstances the unbounded adoration which she felt for herdaughter. She often said:

"Pretty as she is, and rich as I shall make her, what husband will beworthy of Micheline? But if she believes me when it is time to chooseone, she will prefer a man remarkable for his intelligence, and willgive him her fortune as a stepping-stone to raise him as high as shechooses him to go. "

Inwardly she was thinking of Pierre Delarue, who had just taken honorsat the Polytechnic school, and who seemed to have a brilliant careerbefore him. This woman, humbly born, was proud of her origin, andsought a plebeian for her son-in-law, to put into his hand a golden toolpowerful enough to move the world. 

Micheline was ten years old when her father died. Alas, Michel was not agreat loss. They wore mourning for him; but they hardly noticed that hewas absent. His whole life had been a void. Madame Desvarennes, itis sad to say, felt herself more mistress of her child when she wasa widow. She was jealous of Micheline's affections, and each kiss thechild gave her father seemed to the mother to be robbed from her. Withthis fierce tenderness, she preferred solitude around this belovedbeing. 

At this time Madame Desvarennes was really in the zenith of womanlysplendor. She seemed taller, her figure had straightened, vigorous andpowerful. Her gray hair gave her face a majestic appearance. Alwayssurrounded by a court of clients and friends, she seemed like asovereign. The fortune of the firm was not to be computed. It was saidMadame Desvarennes did not know how rich she was. 

Jeanne and Micheline grew up amid this colossal prosperity. The one, tall, brown-haired, with blue eyes changing like the sea; the other, fragile, fair, with dark dreamy eyes. Jeanne, proud, capricious, andinconstant; Micheline, simple, sweet, and tenacious. The brunetteinherited from her reckless father and her fanciful mother a violent andpassionate nature; the blonde was tractable and good like Michel, butresolute and firm like Madame Desvarennes. These two opposite natureswere congenial, Micheline sincerely loving Jeanne, and Jeanne feelingthe necessity of living amicably with Micheline, her mother's idol, but inwardly enduring with difficulty the inequalities which began toexhibit themselves in the manner with which the intimates of the housetreated the one and the other. She found these flatteries wounding, andthought Madame Desvarennes's preferences for Micheline unjust. 

All these accumulated grievances made Jeanne conceive the wish onemorning of leaving the house where she had been brought up, and whereshe now felt humiliated. Pretending to long to go to England to seethat rich relative of her father, who, knowing her to be in a brilliantsociety, had taken notice of her, she asked Madame Desvarennes to allowher to spend a few weeks from home. She wished to try the ground inEngland, and see what she might expect in the future from her family. Madame Desvarennes lent herself to this whim, not guessing the younggirl's real motive; and Jeanne, well attended, went to her aunt's homein England. 

Madame Desvarennes, besides, had attained the summit of her hopes, and an event had just taken place which preoccupied her. Micheline, deferring to her mother's wishes, had decided to allow herself to bebetrothed to Pierre Delarue, who had just lost his mother, and whosebusiness improved daily. The young girl, accustomed to treat Pierre likea brother, had easily consented to accept him as her future husband. 

Jeanne, who had been away for six months, had returned sobered anddisillusioned about her family. She had found them kind and affable, hadreceived many compliments on her beauty, which was really remarkable, but had not met with any encouragement in her desires for independence. She came home resolved not to leave until she married. She arrived inthe Rue Saint-Dominique at the moment when Pierre Delarue, thirstingwith ambition, was leaving his betrothed, his relatives, and gay Paristo undertake engineering work on the coasts of Algeria and Tunis thatwould raise him above his rivals. In leaving, the young man did not fora moment think that Jeanne was returning from England at the same hourwith trouble for him in the person of a very handsome cavalier, PrinceSerge Panine, who had been introduced to her at a ball during the Londonseason. Mademoiselle de Cernay, availing herself of English liberty, was returning escorted only by a maid in company with the Prince. Thejourney had been delightful. The tete-a-tete travelling had pleased theyoung people, and on leaving the train they had promised to see eachother again. Official balls facilitated their meeting; Serge wasintroduced to Madame Desvarennes as being an English friend, and soonbecame the most assiduous partner of Jeanne and Micheline. It was thus, under the most trivial pretext, that the man gained admittance to thehouse where he was to play such an important part. 

CHAPTER II. THE GALLEY-SLAVE OF PLEASURE

One morning in the month of May, 1879, a young man, elegantly attired, alighted from a well-appointed carriage before the door of MadameDesvarennes's house. The young man passed quickly before the porter inuniform, decorated with a military medal, stationed near the door. Thevisitor found himself in an anteroom which communicated with severalcorridors. A messenger was seated in the depth of a large armchair, reading the newspaper, and not even lending an inattentive ear tothe whispered conversation of a dozen canvassers, who were patientlyawaiting their turn for gaining a hearing. On seeing the young man enterby the private door, the messenger rose, dropped his newspaper on thearmchair, hastily raised his velvet skullcap, tried to smile, and madetwo steps forward. 

"Good-morning, old Felix, " said the young man, in a friendly tone to themessenger. "Is my aunt within?"

"Yes, Monsieur Savinien, Madame Desvarennes is in her office; but shehas been engaged for more than an hour with the Financial Secretary ofthe War Department. "

In uttering these words old Felix put on a mysterious and important air, which denoted how serious the discussions going on in the adjoining roomseemed to his mind. 

"You see, " continued he, showing Madame Desvarennes's nephew theanteroom full of people, "madame has kept all these waiting since thismorning, and perhaps she won't see them. "

"I must see her though, " murmured the young man. 

He reflected a moment, then added:

"Is Monsieur Marechal in?"

"Yes, sir, certainly. If you will allow me I will announce you. "

"It is unnecessary. "

And, stepping forward, he entered the office adjoining that of MadameDesvarennes. 

Seated at a large table of black wood, covered with bundles of papersand notes, a young man was working. He was thirty years of age, butappeared much older. His prematurely bald forehead, and wrinkled brow, betokened a life of severe struggles and privations, or a life ofexcesses and pleasures. Still those clear and pure eyes were not thoseof a libertine, and the straight nose solidly joined to the face wasthat of a searcher. Whatever the cause, the man was old before his time. 

On hearing the door of his office open, he raised his eyes, put downhis pen, and was making a movement toward his visitor, when the latterinterrupted him quickly with these words:

"Don't stir, Marechal, or I shall be off! I only came in until AuntDesvarennes is at liberty; but if I disturb you I will go and take aturn, smoke a cigar, and come back in three quarters of an hour. "

"You do not disturb me, Monsieur Savinien; at least not often enough, for be it said, without reproaching you, it is more than three monthssince we have seen anything of you. There, the post is finished. I waswriting the last addresses. "

And taking a heavy bundle of papers off the desk, Marechal showed themto Savinien. 

"Gracious! It seems that business is going on well here. "

"Better and better. "

"You are making mountains of flour. "

"Yes; high as Mont Blanc; and then, we now have a fleet. "

"What! a fleet?" cried Savinien, whose face expressed doubt and surpriseat the same time. 

"Yes, a steam fleet. Last year Madame Desvarennes was not satisfied withthe state in which her corn came from the East. The corn was damagedowing to defective stowage; the firm claimed compensation from thesteamship company. The claim was only moderately satisfied, MadameDesvarennes got vexed, and now we import our own. We have branches atSmyrna and Odessa. "

"It is fabulous! If it goes on, my aunt will have an administrationas important as that of a European state. Oh! you are happy here, youpeople; you are busy. I amuse myself! And if you knew how it wearies me!I am withering, consuming myself, I am longing for business. "

And saying these words, young Monsieur Desvarennes allowed a sorrowfulmoan to escape him. 

"It seems to me, " said Marechal, "that it only depends upon yourself todo as much and more business than any one?"

"You know well enough that it is not so, " sighed Savinien; "my aunt isopposed to it. "

"What a mistake!" cried Marechal, quickly. "I have heard MadameDesvarennes say more than twenty times how she regretted your beingunemployed. Come into the firm, you will have a good berth in thecounting-house. "

"In the counting-house!" cried Savinien, bitterly; "there's the sorepoint. Now look here; my friend, do you think that an organization likemine is made to bend to the trivialities of a copying clerk's work? Tofollow the humdrum of every-day routine? To blacken paper? To become aservant?--me! with what I have in my brain?"

And, rising abruptly, Savinien began to walk hurriedly up and down theroom, disdainfully shaking his little head with its low forehead onwhich were plastered a few fair curls (made with curling-irons), withthe indignant air of an Atlas carrying the world on his shoulders. 

"Oh, I know very well what is at the bottom of the business--my aunt isjealous of me because I am a man of ideas. She wishes to be the onlyone of the family who possesses any. She thinks of binding me down to abesotting work, " continued he, "but I won't have it. I know what Iwant! It is independence of thought, bent on the solution of greatproblems--that is, a wide field to apply my discoveries. But a fixedrule, common law, I could not submit to it. "

"It is like the examinations, " observed Marechal, looking slyly atyoung Desvarennes, who was drawing himself up to his full height;"examinations never suited you. "

"Never, " said Savinien, energetically. "They wished to get me into thePolytechnic School; impossible! Then the Central School; no better. Iastonished the examiners by the novelty of my ideas. They refused me. "

"Well, you know, " retorted Marechal, "if you began by overthrowing theirtheories--"

"That's it!" cried Savinien, triumphantly. "My mind is stronger than I;I must let my imagination have free run, and no one will ever know whatthat particular turn of mind has cost me. Even my family do not thinkme serious. Aunt Desvarennes has forbidden any kind of enterprise, underpretence that I bear her name, and that I might compromise it because Ihave twice failed. My aunt paid, it is true. Do you think it is generousof her to take advantage of my situation, and prohibit my trying tosucceed? Are inventors judged by three or four failures? If my aunt hadallowed me I should have astonished the world. "

"She feared, above all, " said Marechal, simply, "to see you astonishingthe Tribunal of Commerce. "

"Oh! you, too, " moaned Savinien, "are in league with my enemies; youmake no account of me. "

And young Desvarennes sank as if crushed into an armchair and began tolament. He was very unhappy at being misunderstood. His aunt allowed himthree thousand francs a month on condition that he would not make use ofhis ten fingers. Was it moral? Then he with such exuberant vigor had towaste it on pleasure and seeing life to the utmost. He passed his timein theatres, at clubs, restaurants, in boudoirs. He lost his time, hismoney, his hair, his illusions. He bemoaned his lot, but continued, only to have something to do. With grim sarcasm he called himselfthe galley-slave of pleasure. And notwithstanding all these consumingexcesses, he asserted that he could not render his imagination barren. Amid the greatest follies at suppers, during the clinking of glasses; inthe excitement of the dance-inspirations came to him in flashes, he madeprodigious discoveries. 

And as Marechal ventured a timid "Oh!" tinged with incredulity, Savinienflew into a passion. Yes; he had invented something astonishing; he sawfortune within reach, and he thought the bargain made with his aunt veryunjust. Therefore he had come to break it, and to regain his liberty. 

Marechal looked at the young man while he was explaining with animationhis ambitious projects. He scrutinized that flat forehead within whichthe dandy asserted so many good ideas were hidden. He measured that slimform bent by wild living, and asked himself how that degenerate beingcould struggle against the difficulties of business. A smile played onhis lips. He knew Savinien too well not to be aware that he was a preyto one of those attacks of melancholy which seized on him when his fundswere low. 

On these occasions, which occurred frequently, the young man hadlongings for business, which Madame Desvarennes stopped by asking: "Howmuch?" Savinien allowed himself to be with difficulty induced to consentto renounce the certain profits promised, as he said, by his projectedenterprise. At last he would capitulate, and with his pocket welllined, nimble and joyful, he returned to his boudoirs, race-courses, fashionable restaurants, and became more than ever the galley-slave ofpleasure. 

"And Pierre?" asked young Desvarennes, suddenly and quickly changing thesubject. "Have you any news of him?"

Marechal became serious. A cloud seemed to have come across his brow; hegravely answered Savinien's question. 

Pierre was still in the East. He was travelling toward Tunis, the coastof which he was exploring. It was a question of the formation ofan island sea by taking the water through the desert. It would be acolossal undertaking, the results of which would be considerable asregarded Algeria. The climate would be completely changed, and the valueof the colony would be increased tenfold, because it would become themost fertile country in the world. Pierre had been occupied in thisundertaking for more than a year with unequalled ardor; he was far fromhis home, his betrothed, seeing only the goal to be attained; turning adeaf ear to all that would distract his attention from the great work, to the success of which he hoped to contribute gloriously. 

"And don't people say, " resumed Savinien with an evil smile, "thatduring his absence a dashing young fellow is busy luring his betrothedaway from him?"

At these words Marechal made a quick movement. 

"It is false, " he interrupted; "and I do not understand how you, Monsieur Desvarennes, should be the bearer of such a tale. To admit thatMademoiselle Micheline could break her word or her engagements is toslander her, and if any one other than you--"

"There, there, my dear friend, " said Savinien, laughing, "don't getinto a rage. What I say to you I would not repeat to the first comer;besides, I am only the echo of a rumor that has been going the roundduring the last three weeks. They even give the name of him who has beenchosen for the honor and pleasure of such a brilliant conquest. I meanPrince Serge Panine. "

"As you have mentioned Prince Panine, " replied Marechal, "allow me totell you that he has not put his foot inside Madame Desvarennes'sdoor for three weeks. This is not the way of a man about to marry thedaughter of the house. "

"My dear fellow, I only repeat what I have heard. As for me, I don'tknow any more. I have kept out of the way for more than three months. And besides, it matters little to me whether Micheline be a commoner ora princess, the wife of Delarue or of Panine. I shall be none the richeror the poorer, shall I? Therefore I need not care. The dear child willcertainly have millions enough to marry easily. And her adopted sister, the stately Mademoiselle Jeanne, what has become of her?"

"Ah! as to Mademoiselle de Cernay, that is another affair, " criedMarechal. 

And as if wishing to divert the conversation in an opposite directionto which Savinien had led it a moment before, he spoke readily of MadameDesvarennes's adopted daughter. She had made a lively impression on oneof the intimate friends of the house--the banker Cayrol, who had offeredhis name and his fortune to the fair Jeanne. 

This was a cause of deep amazement to Savinien. What! Cayrol! The shrewdclose--fisted Auvergnat! A girl without a fortune! Cayrol Silex as hewas called in the commercial world on account of his hardness. Thisliving money-bag had a heart then! It was necessary to believe it sinceboth money-bag and heart had been placed at Mademoiselle de Cernay'sfeet. This strange girl was certainly destined to millions. She had justmissed being Madame Desvarennes's heiress, and now Cayrol had taken itinto his head to marry her. 

But that was not all. And when Marechal told Savinien that the fairJeanne flatly refused to become the wife of Cayrol, there was anoutburst of joyful exclamations. She refused! By Jove, she was mad! Anunlooked-for marriage--for she had not a penny, and had most extravagantnotions. She had been brought up as if she were to live always in velvetand silks--to loll in carriages and think only of her pleasure. Whatreason did she give for refusing him! None. Haughtily and disdainfullyshe had declared that she did not love "that man, " and that she wouldnot marry him. 

When Savinien heard these details his rapture increased. One thingespecially charmed him: Jeanne's saying "that man, " when speaking ofCayrol. A little girl who was called "De Cernay" just as he might callhimself "Des Batignolles" if he pleased: the natural and unacknowledgeddaughter of a Count and of a shady public singer! And she refusedCayrol, calling him "that man. " It was really funny. And what did worthyCayrol say about it?

When Marechal declared that the banker had not been damped by thisdiscouraging reception, Savinien said it was human nature. The fairJeanne scorned Cayrol and Cayrol adored her. He had often seen thosethings happen. He knew the baggages so well! Nobody knew more of womenthan he did. He had known some more difficult to manage than proudMademoiselle Jeanne. 

An old leaven of hatred had festered in Savinien's heart against Jeannesince the time when the younger branch of the Desvarennes had reasonto fear that the superb heritage was going to the adopted daughter. Savinien had lost the fear, but had kept up the animosity. Andeverything that could happen to Jeanne of a vexing or painful naturewould be witnessed by him with pleasure. 

He was about to encourage Marechal to continue his revelations, and hadrisen and was leaning on the desk. With his face excited and eager, hewas preparing his question, when, through the door which led to MadameDesvarennes's office, a confused murmur of voices was heard. At thesame time the door was half opened, held by a woman's hand, square, withshort fingers, a firm-willed and energetic hand. At the same time, the last words exchanged between Madame Desvarennes and the FinancialSecretary of the War Office were distinctly audible. Madame Desvarenneswas speaking, and her voice sounded clear and plain; a little raised andvibrating. There seemed a shade of anger in its tone. 

"My dear sir, you will tell the Minister that does not suit me. It isnot the custom of the house. For thirty-five years I have conductedbusiness thus, and I have always found it answer. I wish yougood-morning. "

The door of the office facing that which Madame Desvarennes heldclosed, and a light step glided along the corridor. It was the FinancialSecretary's. The mistress appeared. 

Marechal rose hastily. As to Savinien, all his resolution seemed to havevanished at the sound of his aunt's voice, for he had rapidly gained acorner of the room, and seated himself on a leather-covered sofa, hiddenbehind an armchair, where he remained perfectly quiet. 

"Do you understand that, Marechal?" said dame Desvarennes; "they want toplace a resident agent at the mill on pretext of checking things. Theysay that all military contractors are obliged to submit to it. My word, do they take us for thieves, the rascals? It is the first time thatpeople have seemed to doubt me. And it has enraged me. I have beenarguing for a whole hour with the man they sent me. I said to him, 'Mydear sir, you may either take it or leave it. Let us start from thispoint: I can do without you and you cannot do without me. If you don'tbuy my flour, somebody else will. I am not at all troubled about it. But as to having any one here who would be as much master as myself, orperhaps more, never! I am too old to change my customs. ' Thereuponthe Financial Secretary left. There! And, besides, they change theirMinistry every fortnight. One would never know with whom one had todeal. Thank you, no. "

While talking thus with Marechal, Madame Desvarennes was walking aboutthe office. She was still the same woman with the broad prominentforehead. Her hair, which she wore in smooth plaits, had become gray, but the sparkle of her dark eyes only seemed the brighter from this. Shehad preserved her splendid teeth, and her smile had remained young andcharming. She spoke with animation, as usual, and with the gestures ofa man. She placed herself before her secretary, seeming to appeal tohim as a witness of her being in the right. During the hour withthe official personage she had been obliged to contain herself. Sheunburdened herself to Marechal, saying just what she thought. 

But all at once she perceived Savinien, who was waiting to show himselfnow that she had finished. The mistress turned sharply to the young man, and frowned slightly:

"Hallo! you are there, eh? How is it that you could leave your fairfriends?"

"But, aunt, I came to pay you my respects. "

"No nonsense now; I've no time, " interrupted the mistress. "What do youwant?"

Savinien, disconcerted by this rude reception, blinked his eyes, asif seeking some form to give his request; then, making up his mind, hesaid:

"I came to see you on business. "

"You on business?" replied Madame Desvarennes, with a shade ofastonishment and irony. 

"Yes, aunt, on business, " declared Savinien, looking down as if heexpected a rebuff. 

"Oh, oh, oh!" said Madame Desvarennes, "you know our agreement; I giveyou an allowance--"

"I renounce my income, " interrupted Savinien, quickly, "I wish to takeback my independence. The transfer I made has already cost me too dear. It's a fool's bargain. The enterprise which I am going to launch issuperb, and must realize immense profits. I shall certainly not abandonit. "

While speaking, Savinien had become animated and had regained hisself-possession. He believed in his scheme, and was ready to pledge hisfuture. He argued that his aunt could not blame him for giving proof ofhis energy and daring, and he discoursed in bombastic style. 

"That's enough!" cried Madame Desvarennes, interrupting her nephew'soration. "I am very fond of mills, but not word-mills. You are talkingtoo much about it to be sincere. So many words can only serveto disguise the nullity of your projects. You want to embark inspeculation? With what money?"

"I contribute the scheme and some capitalists will advance the money tostart with; we shall then issue shares!"

"Never in this life! I oppose it. You! With a responsibility. You!Directing an undertaking. You would only commit absurdities. In fact, you want to sell an idea, eh? Well, I will buy it. "

"It is not only the money I want, " said Savinien, with an indignantair, "it is confidence in my ideas, it is enthusiasm on the part of myshareholders, it is success. You don't believe in my ideas, aunt!"

"What does it matter to you, if I buy them from you? It seems to me apretty good proof of confidence. Is that settled?"

"Ah, aunt, you are implacable!" groaned Savinien. "When you have laidyour hand upon any one, it is all over. Adieu, independence; one mustobey you. Nevertheless, it was a vast and beautiful conception. "

"Very well. Marechal, see that my nephew has ten thousand francs. Andyou, Savinien, remember that I see no more of you. "

"Until the money is spent!" murmured Marechal, in the ear of MadameDesvarennes's nephew. 

And taking him by the arm he was leading him toward the safe when themistress turned to Savinien and said:

"By the way, what is your invention?"

"Aunt, it is a threshing machine, " answered the young man, gravely. 

"Rather a machine for coining money, " said the incorrigible Marechal, inan undertone. 

"Well; bring me your plans, " resumed Madame Desvarennes, after havingreflected a moment. "Perchance you may have hit upon something. "

The mistress had been generous, and now the woman of business reassertedherself and she thought of reaping the benefit. 

Savinien seemed very confused at this demand, and as his aunt gave himan interrogative look, he confessed:

"There are no drawings made as yet. "

"No drawings as yet?" cried the mistress. "Where then is yourinvention?"

"It is here, " replied Savinien, and with an inspired gesture he struckhis narrow forehead. 

Madame Desvarennes and Marechal could not resist breaking out into alaugh. 

"And you were already talking of issuing shares?" said the mistress. "Do you think people would have paid their money with your brain as soleguarantee? You! Get along; I am the only one to make bargains like that, and you are the only one with whom I make them. Go, Marechal, give himhis money; I won't gainsay it. But you are a trickster, as usual!"

CHAPTER III. PIERRE RETURNS

By a wave of her hand she dismissed Savinien, who, abashed, went outwith Marechal. Left alone, she seated herself at her secretary's desk, and taking the pile of letters she signed them. The pen flew in herfingers, and on the paper was displayed her name, written in largeletters in a man's handwriting. 

She had been occupied thus for about a quarter of an hour when Marechalreappeared. Behind him came a stout thickset man of heavy build, andgorgeously dressed. His face, surrounded by a bristly dark brown beard, and his eyes overhung by bushy eyebrows, gave him, at the first glance, a harsh appearance. But his mouth promptly banished this impression. Histhick and sensual lips betrayed voluptuous tastes. A disciple of Lavateror Gall would have found the bump of amativeness largely developed. 

Marechal stepped aside to allow him to pass. 

"Good-morning, mistress, " said he familiarly, approaching MadameDesvarennes. 

The mistress raised her head quickly, and said:

"Ah! it's you, Cayrol! That's capital! I was just going to send foryou. "

Jean Cayrol, a native of Cantal, had been brought up amid the wildmountains of Auvergne. His father was a small farmer in the neighborhoodof Saint-Flour, scraping a miserable pittance from the ground for themaintenance of his family. From the age of eight years Cayrol had been ashepherd-boy. Alone in the quiet and remote country, the child had givenway to ambitious dreams. He was very intelligent, and felt that he wasborn to another sphere than that of farming. 

Thus, at the first opportunity which had occurred to take him into atown, he was found ready. He went as servant to a banker at Brioude. There, in the service of this comparatively luxurious house, he gotsmoothed down a little, and lost some of his clumsy loutishness. Strongas an ox, he did the work of two men, and at night, when in his garret, fell asleep learning to read. He was seized by the ambition to get on. No pains were to be spared to gain his goal. 

His master having been elected a member of the Chamber of Deputies, Cayrol accompanied him to Paris. Life in the capital finished theturmoil of Cayrol's brain. Seeing the prodigious activity of the greatcity on whose pavements fortunes sprang up in a day like mushrooms, theAuvergnat felt his moral strength equal to the occasion, and leaving hismaster, he became clerk to a merchant in the Rue du Sentier. 

There, for four years, he studied commerce, and gained much experience. He soon learned that it was only in financial transactions that largefortunes were to be rapidly made. He left the Rue du Sentier, and founda place at a stock-broker's. His keen scent for speculation served himadmirably. After the lapse of a few years he had charge of the business. His position was getting better; he was making fifteen thousand francsper annum, but that was nothing compared to his dreams. He was thentwenty-eight years of age. He felt ready to do anything to succeed, except something unhandsome, for this lover of money would have diedrather than enrich himself by dishonest means. 

It was at this time that his lucky star threw him in MadameDesvarennes's way. The mistress, understanding men, guessed Cayrol'sworth quickly. She was seeking a banker who would devote himself to herinterests. She watched the young man narrowly for some time; then, sureshe was not mistaken as to his capacity, she bluntly proposed to givehim money to start a business. Cayrol, who had already saved eightythousand francs, received twelve hundred thousand from MadameDesvarennes, and settled in the Rue Taitbout, two steps from the houseof Rothschild. 

Madame Desvarennes had made a lucky hit in choosing Cayrol as herconfidential agent. This short, thickset Auvergnat was a master offinance, and in a few years had raised the house to an unexpecteddegree of prosperity. Madame Desvarennes had drawn considerable sumsas interest on the money lent, and the banker's fortune was alreadyestimated at several millions. Was it the happy influence of MadameDesvarennes that changed everything she touched into gold, or wereCayrol's capacities really extraordinary? The results were there andthat was sufficient. They did not trouble themselves over and abovethat. 

The banker had naturally become one of the intimates of MadameDesvarennes's house. For a long time he saw Jeanne without particularlynoticing her. This young girl had not struck his fancy. It was one nightat a ball, on seeing her dancing with Prince Panine, that he perceivedthat she was marvellously engaging. His eyes were attracted by aninvincible power and followed her graceful figure whirling through thewaltz. He secretly envied the brilliant cavalier who was holding thisadorable creature in his arms, who was bending over her bare shoulders, and whose breath lightly touched her hair. He longed madly for Jeanne, and from that moment thought only of her. 

The Prince was then very friendly with Mademoiselle de Cernay; heoverwhelmed her with kind attentions. Cayrol watched him to see if hespoke to her of love, but Panine was a past master in these drawing-roomskirmishes, and the banker got nothing for his pains. That Cayrolwas tenacious has been proved. He became intimate with the Prince. Hetendered him such little services as create intimacy, and when he wassure of not being repulsed with haughtiness, he questioned Serge. Did helove Mademoiselle de Cernay? This question, asked in a trembling voiceand with a constrained smile, found the Prince quite calm. He answeredlightly that Mademoiselle de Cernay was a very agreeable partner, butthat he had never dreamed of offering her his homage. He had otherprojects in his head. Cayrol pressed the Prince's hand violently, made athousand protestations of devotedness, and finally obtained his completeconfidence. 

Serge loved Mademoiselle Desvarennes, and it was to become intimatewith her that he had so eagerly sought her friend's company. Cayrol, inlearning the Prince's secret, resumed his usual reserved manner. He knewthat Micheline was engaged to Pierre Delarue, but still, women were sowhimsical! Who could tell? Perhaps Mademoiselle Desvarennes had lookedfavorably upon the handsome Serge. 

He was really admirable to view, this Panine, with his blue eyes, pureas a maiden's, and his long fair mustache falling on each side of hisrosy mouth. He had a truly royal bearing, and was descended from anancient aristocratic race; he had a charming hand and an arched foot, enough to make a woman envious. Soft and insinuating with his tendervoice and sweet Sclavonic accent, he was no ordinary man, but oneusually creating a great impression wherever he went. 

His story was well known in Paris. He was born in the province of Posen, so violently seized on by Prussia, that octopus of Europe. Serge'sfather had been killed during the insurrection of 1848, and he, when ayear old, was brought by his uncle, Thaddeus Panine, to France, andwas educated at the College Rollin, where he had not acquired over muchlearning. 

In 1866, at the moment when war broke out between Prussia and Austria, Serge was eighteen years old. By his uncle's orders he had leftParis, and had entered himself for the campaign in an Austrian cavalryregiment. All who bore the name of Panine, and had strength to hold asword or carry a gun, had risen to fight the oppressor of Poland. Serge, during this short and bloody struggle, showed prodigies of valor. On thenight of Sadowa, out of seven bearing the name of Panine, who hadserved against Prussia, five were dead, one was wounded; Serge alonewas untouched, though red with the blood of his uncle Thaddeus, who waskilled by the bursting of a shell. All these Panines, living or dead, had gained honors. When they were spoken of before Austrians or Poles, they were called heroes. 

Such a man was a dangerous companion for a young, simple, andartless girl like Micheline. His adventures were bound to please herimagination, and his beauty sure to charm her eyes. Cayrol was a prudentman; he watched, and it was not long before he perceived that Michelinetreated the Prince with marked favor. The quiet young girl becameanimated when Serge was there. Was there love in this transformation?Cayrol did not hesitate. He guessed at once that the future would bePanine's, and that the maintenance of his own influence in the houseof Desvarennes depended on the attitude which he was about to take. He passed over to the side of the newcomer with arms and baggage, andplaced himself entirely at his disposal. 

It was he who three weeks before, in the name of Panine, had madeovertures to Madame Desvarennes. The errand had been difficult, and thebanker had turned his tongue several times in his mouth before speaking. Still, Cayrol could overcome all difficulties. He was able to explainthe object of his mission without Madame flying into a passion. But, theexplanation over, there was a terrible scene. He witnessed one of themost awful bursts of rage that it was possible to expect from a violentwoman. The mistress treated the friend of the family as one would nothave dared to treat a petty commercial traveller who came to a privatehouse to offer his wares. She showed him the door, and desired him notto darken the threshold again. 

But if Cayrol was resolute he was equally patient. He listenedwithout saying a word to the reproaches of Madame Desvarennes, whowas exasperated that a candidate should be set up in opposition to theson-in-law of her choosing. He did not go, and when Madame Desvarenneswas a little calmed by the letting out of her indignation, he arguedwith her. The mistress was too hasty about the business; it was no usedeciding without reflecting. Certainly, nobody esteemed Pierre Delaruemore than he did; but it was necessary to know whether Micheline lovedhim. A childish affection was not love, and Prince Panine thought hemight hope that Mademoiselle Desvarennes----

The mistress did not allow Cayrol to finish his sentence; she rang thebell and asked for her daughter. This time, Cayrol prudently took theopportunity of disappearing. He had opened fire; it was for Michelineto decide the result of the battle. The banker awaited the issue of theinterview between mother and daughter in the next room. Through the doorhe heard the irritated tones of Madame Desvarennes, to which Michelineanswered softly and slowly. The mother threatened and stormed. Coldlyand quietly the daughter received the attack. The tussle lasted about anhour, when the door reopened and Madame Desvarennes appeared, pale andstill trembling, but calmed. Micheline, wiping her beautiful eyes, stillwet with tears, regained her apartment. 

"Well, " said Cayrol timidly, seeing the mistress standing silent andabsorbed before him; "I see with pleasure that you are less agitated. Did Mademoiselle Micheline give you good reasons?"

"Good reasons!" cried Madame Desvarennes with a violent gesture, lastflash of the late storm. "She cried, that's all. And you know when shecries I no longer know what I do or say! She breaks my heart with hertears. And she knows it. Ah! it is a great misfortune to love childrentoo much!"

This energetic woman was conquered, and yet understood that she waswrong to allow herself to be conquered. She fell into a deep reverie, and forgot that Cayrol was present. She thought of the future which shehad planned for Micheline, and which the latter carelessly destroyed inan instant. 

Pierre, now an orphan, would have been a real son to the mistress. Hewould have lived in her house, and have surrounded her old age with careand affection. And then, he was so full of ability that he could nothelp attaining a brilliant position. She would have helped him, andwould have rejoiced in his success. And all this scaffolding wasoverturned because this Panine had crossed Micheline's path. A foreignadventurer, prince perhaps, but who could tell? Lies are easily toldwhen the proofs of the lie have to be sought beyond the frontiers. Andit was her daughter who was going to fall in love with an insipid fopwho only coveted her millions. That she should see such a man enter herfamily, steal Micheline's love from her, and rummage her strongbox! Ina moment she vowed mortal hatred against Panine, and resolved to do allshe could to prevent the longed-for marriage with her daughter. 

She was disturbed in her meditation by Cayrol's voice. He wished to takean answer to the Prince. What must he say to him?

"You will let him know, " said Madame Desvarennes, "that he must refrainfrom seeking opportunities of meeting my daughter. If he be a gentleman, he will understand that his presence, even in Paris, is disagreeable tome. I ask him to go away for three weeks. After that time he may comeback, and I agree to give him an answer. "

"You promise me that you will not be vexed with me for having undertakenthis errand?"

"I promise on one condition. It is, that not a word which has passedhere this morning shall be repeated to any one. Nobody must suspect theproposal that you have just made to me. "

Cayrol swore to hold his tongue, and he kept his word. Prince Panineleft that same night for England. 

Madame Desvarennes was a woman of quick resolution. She took a sheetof paper, a pen, and in her large handwriting wrote the following linesaddressed to Pierre:

"If you do not wish to find Micheline married on your return, come backwithout a moment's delay. "

She sent this ominous letter to the young man, who was then in Tripoli. That done, she returned to her business as if nothing had happened. Herplacid face did not once betray the anguish of her heart during thosethree weeks. 

The term fixed by Madame Desvarennes with the Prince had expired thatmorning. And the severity with which the mistress had received theMinister of War's Financial Secretary was a symptom of the agitation inwhich the necessity of coming to a decision placed Micheline's mother. Every morning for the last week she had expected Pierre to arrive. Whatwith having to give an answer to the Prince as she had promised, and thelonging to see him whom she loved as a son, she felt sick at heart andutterly cast down. She thought of asking the Prince for a respite. Itwas for that reason she was glad to see Cayrol. 

The latter, therefore, had arrived opportunely. He looked as if hebrought startling news. By a glance he drew Madame Desvarennes'sattention to Marechal and seemed to say:

"I must be alone with you; send him away. "

The mistress understood, and with a decided gesture said:

"You can speak before Marechal; he knows all my affairs as well as I domyself. "

"Even the matter that brings me here?" replied Cayrol, with surprise. 

"Even that. It was necessary for me to have some one to whom I couldspeak, or else my heart would have burst! Come, do your errand. ThePrince?"

"A lot it has to do with the Prince, " exclaimed Cayrol, in a huff. "Pierre has arrived!"

Madame Desvarennes rose abruptly. A rush of blood rose to her face, hereyes brightened, and her lips opened with a smile. 

"At last!" she cried. "But where is he? How did you hear of his return?"

"Ah! faith, it was just by chance. I was shooting yesterday atFontainebleau, and I returned this morning by the express. On arrivingat Paris, I alighted on the platform, and there I found myself faceto face with a tall young man with a long beard, who, seeing me pass, called out, 'Ah, Cayrol!' It was Pierre. I only recognized him by hisvoice. He is much changed; with his beard, and his complexion bronzedlike an African. "

"What did he say to you?"

"Nothing. He pressed my hand. He looked at me for a moment withglistening eyes. There was something on his lips which he longed to ask, yet did not; but I guessed it. I was afraid of giving way to tenderness, that might have ended in my saying something foolish, so I left him. "

"How long ago is that?"

"About an hour ago. I only just ran home before coming on here. ThereI found Panine waiting for me. He insisted upon accompanying me. I hopeyou won't blame him?"

Madame Desvarennes frowned. 

"I will not see him just now, " she said, looking at Cayrol with aresolute air. "Where did you leave him?"

"In the garden, where I found the young ladies. "

As if to verify the banker's words, a merry peal of laughter was heardthrough the half-open window. It was Micheline, who, with returninggayety, was making up for the three weeks' sadness she had experiencedduring Panine's absence. 

Madame Desvarennes went to the window, and looked into the garden. Seated on the lawn, in large bamboo chairs, the young girls werelistening to a story the Prince was telling. The morning was bright andmild; the sun shining through Micheline's silk sunshade lit up her fairhead. Before her, Serge, bending his tall figure, was speaking withanimation. Micheline's eyes were softly fixed on him. Reclining in herarmchair, she allowed herself to be carried away with his conversation, and thoroughly enjoyed his society, of which she had been deprived forthe last three weeks. Beside her, Jeanne, silently watching the Prince, was mechanically nibbling, with her white teeth, a bunch of carnationswhich she held in her hands. A painful thought contracted Mademoisellede Cernay's brow, and her pale lips on the red flowers seemed to bedrinking blood. 

The mistress slowly turned away from this scene. A shadow hadcrossed her brow, which had, for a moment, become serene again at theannouncement of Pierre's arrival. She remained silent for a littlewhile, as if considering; then coming to a resolution, and turning toCayrol, she said:

"Where is Pierre staying?"

"At the Hotel du Louvre, " replied the banker. 

"Well, I'm going there. "

Madame Desvarennes rang the bell violently. 

"My bonnet, my cloak, and the carriage, " she said, and with a friendlynod to the two men, she went out quickly. 

Micheline was still laughing in the garden. Marechal and Cayrol lookedat each other. Cayrol was the first to speak. 

"The mistress told you all about the matter then? How is it you neverspoke to me about it?"

"Should I have been worthy of Madame Desvarennes's confidence had Ispoken of what she wished to keep secret?"

"To me?"

"Especially to you. The attitude which you have taken forbade myspeaking. You favor Prince Panine?"

"And you; you are on Pierre Delarue's side?"

"I take no side. I am only a subordinate, you know; I do not count. "

"Do not attempt to deceive me. Your influence over the mistress isgreat. The confidence she has in you is a conclusive proof. Importantevents are about to take place here. Pierre has certainly returned toclaim his right as betrothed, and Mademoiselle Micheline loves PrinceSerge. Out of this a serious conflict will take place in the house. There will be a battle. And as the parties in question are about equalin strength, I am seeking adherents for my candidate. I own, in allhumility, I am on love's side. The Prince is beloved by MademoiselleDesvarennes, and I serve him. Micheline will be grateful, and will do mea turn with Mademoiselle de Cernay. As to you, let me give you a littleadvice. If Madame Desvarennes consults you, speak well of Panine. Whenthe Prince is master here, your position will be all the better for it. "

Marechal had listened to Cayrol without anything betraying theimpression his words created. He looked at the banker in a peculiarmanner, which caused him to feel uncomfortable, and made him lower hiseyes. 

"Perhaps you do not know, Monsieur Cayrol, " said the secretary, after amoment's pause, "how I entered this firm. It is as well in that caseto inform you. Four years ago, I was most wretched. After having soughtfortune ten times without success, I felt myself giving way morally andphysically. There are some beings gifted with energy, who can surmountall the difficulties of life. You are one of those. As for me, thestruggle exhausted my strength, and I came to grief. It would take toolong to enumerate all the ways of earning my living I tried. Few evenfed me; and I was thinking of putting an end to my miserable existencewhen I met Pierre. We had been at college together. I went toward him;he was on the quay. I dared to stop him. At first he did not recognizeme, I was so haggard, so wretched-looking! But when I spoke, he cried, 'Marechal!' and, without blushing at my tatters, put his arms round myneck. We were opposite the Belle Jardiniere, the clothiers; he wanted torig me out. I remember as if it were but yesterday I said, 'No, nothing, only find me work!'--'Work, my poor fellow, ' he answered, 'but just lookat yourself; who would have confidence to give you any? You look likea tramp, and when you accosted me a little while ago, I asked myself ifyou were not about to steal my watch!' And he laughed gayly, happyat having found me again, and thinking that he might be of use to me. Seeing that I would not go into the shop, he took off his overcoat, andput it on my back to cover my tattered clothes, and there and then hetook me to Madame Desvarennes. Two days later I entered the office. Yousee the position I hold, and I owe it to Pierre. He has been more than afriend to me--a brother. Come! after that, tell me what you would thinkof me if I did what you have just asked me?"

Cayrol was confused; he twisted his bristly beard with his fingers. 

"Faith, I do not say that your scruples are not right; but, betweenourselves, every step that is taken against the Prince will count fornaught. He will marry Mademoiselle Desvarennes. "

"It is possible. In that case, I shall be here to console Pierre andsympathize with him. "

"And in the mean time you are going to do all you can in his favor?"

"I have already had the honor of telling you that I cannot do anything. "

"Well, well. One knows what talking means, and you will not change myidea of your importance. You take the weaker side then; that's superb!"

"It is but strictly honest, " said Marechal. "It is true that thatquality has become very rare!"

Cayrol wheeled round on his heels. He took a few steps toward the door, then, returning to Marechal, held out his hand:

"Without a grudge, eh?"

The secretary allowed his hand to be shaken without answering, and thebanker went out, saying to himself:

"He is without a sou and has prejudices! There's a lad without afuture. "

CHAPTER IV. THE RIVALS

On reaching Paris, Pierre Delarue experienced a strange feeling. In hisfeverish haste he longed for the swiftness of electricity to bring himnear Micheline. As soon as he arrived in Paris, he regretted havingtravelled so fast. He longed to meet his betrothed, yet feared to knowhis fate. 

He had a sort of presentiment that his reception would destroy hishopes. And the more he tried to banish these thoughts, the more forciblythey returned. The thought that Micheline had forgotten her promise madethe blood rush to his face. 

Madame Desvarennes's short letter suggested it. That his betrothedwas lost to him he understood, but he would not admit it. How was itpossible that Micheline should forget him? All his childhood passedbefore his mind. He remembered the sweet and artless evidences ofaffection which the young girl had given him. And yet she no longerloved him! It was her own mother who said so. After that could he stillhope?

A prey to this deep trouble, Pierre entered Paris. On finding himselfface to face with Cayrol, the young man's first idea was, as Cayrol hadguessed, to cry out, "What's going on? Is all lost to me?" A sort ofanxious modesty kept back the words on his lips. He would not admit thathe doubted. And, then, Cayrol would only have needed to answer thatall was over, and that he could put on mourning for his love. He turnedaround, and went out. 

The tumult of Paris surprised and stunned him. After spending a yearin the peaceful solitudes of Africa, to find himself amid the cries ofstreet-sellers, the rolling of carriages, and the incessant movement ofthe great city, was too great a contrast to him. Pierre was overcomeby languor; his head seemed too heavy for his body to carry; hemechanically entered a cab which conveyed him to the Hotel du Louvre. Through the window, against the glass of which he tried to cool hisheated forehead, he saw pass in procession before his eyes, the Columnof July, the church of St. Paul, the Hotel de Ville in ruins, and thecolonnade of the Louvre. 

An absurd idea took possession of him. He remembered that during theCommune he was nearly killed in the Rue Saint-Antoine by the explosionof a shell, thrown by the insurgents from the heights of Pere-Lachaise. He thought that had he died then, Micheline would have wept for him. Then, as in a nightmare, it seemed to him that this hypothesis wasrealized. He saw the church hung with black, he heard the funeralchants. A catafalque contained his coffin, and slowly his betrothedcame, with a trembling hand, to throw holy water on the cloth whichcovered the bier. And a voice said within him:

"You are dead, since Micheline is about to marry another. "

He made an effort to banish this importunate idea. He could not succeed. Thoughts flew through his brain with fearful rapidity. He thought he wasbeginning to be seized with brain fever. And this dismal ceremony keptcoming before him with the same chants, the same words repeated, and thesame faces appearing. The houses seemed to fly before his vacant eyes. To stop this nightmare he tried to count the gas-lamps: one, two, three, four, five--but the same thought interrupted his calculation:

"You are dead, since your betrothed is about to marry another. "

He was afraid he was going mad. A sharp pain shot across his foreheadjust above the right eyebrow. In the old days he had felt the same painwhen he had overworked himself in preparing for his examinations at thePolytechnic School. With a bitter smile he asked himself if one of theaching vessels in his brain was about to burst?

The sudden stoppage of the cab freed him from this torture. The hotelporter opened the door. Pierre stepped out mechanically. Withoutspeaking a word he followed a waiter, who showed him to a room on thesecond floor. Left alone, he sat down. This room, with its commonplacefurniture, chilled him. He saw in it a type of his future life: lonelyand desolate. Formerly, when he used to come to Paris, he stayed withMadame Desvarennes, where he had the comforts of home, and every onelooked on him affectionately. 

Here, at the hotel, orders were obeyed with politeness at so much a day. Would it always be thus in future?

This painful impression dissipated his weakness as by enchantment. He sobitterly regretted the sweets of the past, that he resolved to struggleto secure them for the future. He dressed himself quickly, and removedall the traces of his journey; then, his mind made up, he jumped into acab, and drove to Madame Desvarennes's. All indecision had left him. Hisfears now seemed contemptible. He must defend himself. It was a questionof his happiness. 

At the Place de la Concorde a carriage passed his cab. He recognized thelivery of Madame Desvarennes's coachman and leant forward. The mistressdid not see him. He was about to stop the cab and tell his driver tofollow her carriage when a sudden thought decided him to go on. It wasMicheline he wanted to see. His future destiny depended on her. MadameDesvarennes had made him clearly understand that by calling for his helpin her fatal letter. He went on his way, and in a few minutes arrived atthe mansion in the Rue Saint-Dominique. 

Micheline and Jeanne were still in the garden, seated in the same placeon the lawn. Cayrol had joined Serge. Both, profiting by the lovelymorning, were enjoying the society of their beloved ones. A quick stepon the gravel walk attracted their attention. In the sunlight a youngman, whom neither Jeanne nor Micheline recognized, was advancing. Whenabout two yards distant from the group he slowly raised his hat. 

Seeing the constrained and astonished manner of the young girls, a sadsmile played on his lips, then he said, softly:

"Am I then so changed that I must tell you my name?"

At these words Micheline jumped up, she became as white as her collar, and trembling, with sobs rising to her lips, stood silent and petrifiedbefore Pierre. She could not speak, but her eyes were eagerly fixed onthe young man. It was he, the companion of her youth, so changed thatshe had not recognized him; worn by hard work, perhaps by anxieties, bronzed--and with his face hidden by a black beard which gave him amanly and energetic appearance. It was certainly he, with a thin redribbon at his button-hole, which he had not when he went away, and whichshowed the importance of the works he had executed and of great perilshe had faced. Pierre, trembling and motionless, was silent; the sound ofhis voice choked with emotion had frightened him. He had expected a coldreception, but this scared look, which resembled terror, was beyond allhe had pictured. Serge wondered and watched. 

Jeanne broke the icy silence. She went up to Pierre, and presented herforehead. 

"Well, " she said, "don't you kiss your friends?"

She smiled affectionately on him. Two grateful tears sparkled in theyoung man's eyes, and fell on Mademoiselle de Cernay's hair. Micheline, led away by the example and without quite knowing what she was doing, found herself in Pierre's arms. The situation was becoming singularlyperplexing to Serge. Cayrol, who had not lost his presence of mind, understood it, and turning toward the Prince, said:

"Monsieur Pierre Delarue: an old friend and companion of MademoiselleDesvarennes's; almost a brother to her, " thus explaining in one word allthat could appear unusual in such a scene of tenderness. 

Then, addressing Pierre, he simply added--"Prince Panine. "

The two men looked at each other. Serge, with haughty curiosity; Pierre, with inexpressible rage. In a moment, he guessed that the tall, handsomeman beside his betrothed was his rival. If looks could kill, the Princewould have fallen down dead. Panine did not deign to notice the hatredwhich glistened in the eyes of the newcomer. He turned toward Michelinewith exquisite grace and said:

"Your mother receives her friends this evening, I think, Mademoiselle; Ishall have the honor of paying my respects to her. "

And taking leave of Jeanne with a smile, and of Pierre with a courteousbow, he left, accompanied by Cayrol. 

Serge's departure was a relief to Micheline. Between these two men towhom she belonged, to the one by a promise, to the other by anavowal, she felt ashamed. Left alone with Pierre she recovered herself-possession, and felt full of pity for the poor fellow threatenedwith such cruel deception. She went tenderly to him, with her lovingeyes of old, and pressed his hand:

"I am very glad to see you again, my dear Pierre; and my mother will bedelighted. We were very anxious about you. You have not written to usfor some months. "

Pierre tried to joke: "The post does not leave very often in the desert. I wrote whenever I had an opportunity. "

"Is it so very pleasant in Africa that you could not tear yourself awaya whole year?"

"I had to take another journey on the coast of Tripoli to finish mylabors. I was interested in my work, and anxious not to lose the resultof so much effort, and I think I have succeeded--at least in--theopinion of my employers, " said the young man, with a ghastly smile. 

"My dear Pierre, you come in time from the land of the sphinx, "interrupted Jeanne gravely, and glancing intently at Micheline. "Thereis here, I assure you, a difficult enigma to solve. "

"What is it?"

"That which is written in this heart, " she replied, lightly touching hercompanion's breast. 

"From childhood I have always read it as easily as a book, " said Pierre, with tremulous voice, turning toward the amazed Micheline. 

Mademoiselle de Cernay tossed her head. 

"Who knows? Perhaps her disposition has changed during your absence;"and nodding pleasantly, she went toward the house. 

Pierre followed her for a moment with his eyes, then, turning toward hisbetrothed, said:

"Micheline, shall I tell you your secret? You no longer love me. "

The young girl started. The attack was direct. She must at once givean explanation. She had often thought of what she would say when Pierrecame back to her. The day had arrived unexpectedly. And the answers shehad prepared had fled. The truth appeared harsh and cold. She understoodthat the change in her was treachery, of which Pierre was the innocentvictim; and feeling herself to blame, she waited tremblingly theexplosion of this loyal heart so cruelly wounded. She stammered, intremulous accents:

"Pierre, my friend, my brother. "

"Your brother!" cried the young man, bitterly. "Was that the name youwere to give me on my return?"

At these words, which so completely summed up the situation, Michelineremained silent. Still she felt that at all hazards she must defendherself. Her mother might come in at any moment. Between MadameDesvarennes and her betrothed, what would become of her? The hour wasdecisive. Her strong love for Serge gave her fresh energy. 

"Why did you go away?" she asked, with sadness. 

Pierre raised with pride his head which had been bent with anguish. 

"To be worthy of you, " he merely said. 

"You did not need to be worthy of me; you, who were already above everyone else. We were betrothed; you only had to guard me. "

"Could not your heart guard itself?"

"Without help, without the support of your presence and affection?"

"Without other help or support than I had myself: Hope and Remembrance. "

Micheline turned pale. Each word spoken by Pierre made her feel theunworthiness of her conduct more completely. She endeavored to find anew excuse:

"Pierre, you know I was only a child. "

"No, " said the young man, with choked voice, "I see that you werealready a woman; a being weak, inconstant, and cruel; who cares not forthe love she inspires, and sacrifices all to the love she feels. "

So long as Pierre had only complained, Micheline felt overwhelmed andwithout strength; but the young man began to accuse. In a moment theyoung girl regained her presence of mind and revolted. 

"Those are hard words!" she exclaimed. 

"Are they not deserved?" cried Pierre, no longer restraining himself. "You saw me arrive trembling, with eyes full of tears, and not only hadyou not an affectionate word to greet me with, but you almost accuse meof indifference. You reproach me with having gone away. Did you not knowmy motive for going? I was betrothed to you; you were rich and I waspoor. To remove this inequality I resolved to make a name. I sought oneof those perilous scientific missions which bring celebrity or deathto those who undertake them. Ah! think not that I went away from youwithout heart-breaking! For a year I was almost alone, crushed withfatigue, always in danger; the thought that I was suffering for yousupported me. 

"When lost in the vast desert, I was sad and discouraged; I invoked you, and your sweet face gave me fresh hope and energy. I said to myself, 'She is waiting for me. A day will come when I shall win the prize ofall my trouble. ' Well, Micheline, the day has come; here I am, returned, and I ask for my reward. Is it what I had a right to expect? While I wasrunning after glory, another, more practical and better advised, stoleyour heart. My happiness is destroyed. You did well to forget me. The fool who goes so far away from his betrothed does not deserve herfaithfulness. He is cold, indifferent, he does not know how to love!"

These vehement utterances troubled Micheline deeply. For the first timeshe understood her betrothed, felt how much he loved her, and regrettednot having known it before. If Pierre had spoken like that before goingaway, who knows? Micheline's feelings might have been quickened. Nodoubt she would have loved him. It would have come naturally. But Pierrehad kept the secret of his passion for the young girl to himself. It wasonly despair, and the thought of losing her, that made him give vent tohis feelings now. 

"I see that I have been cruel and unjust to you, " said Micheline. "Ideserve your reproaches, but I am not the only one to blame. You, too, are at fault. What I have just heard has upset me. I am truly sorryto cause you so much pain; but it is too late. I no longer belong tomyself. "

"And did you belong to yourself?"

"No! It is true, you had my word, but be generous. Do not abuse theauthority which being my betrothed gives you. That promise I would nowask back from you. "

"And if I refuse to release you from your promise? If I tried to, regainyour love?" cried Pierre, forcibly. "Have I not the right to defendmyself? And what would you think of my love if I relinquished you soreadily?"

There was a moment's silence. The interview was at its highest pitch ofexcitement. Micheline knew that she must put an end to it. She repliedwith firmness:

"A girl such as I am will not break her word; mine belongs to you, butmy heart is another's. Say you insist, and I am ready to keep my promiseto become your wife. It is for you to decide. "

Pierre gave the young girl a look which plunged into the depths of herheart. He read there her resolve that she would act loyally, but that atthe same time she would never forget him who had so irresistibly gainedher heart. He made a last effort. 

"Listen, " he said, with ardent voice, "it is impossible that you canhave forgotten me so soon: I love you so much! Remember our affection inthe old days, Micheline. Remember!"

He no longer argued; he pleaded. Micheline felt victorious. She wasmoved with pity. 

"Alas! my poor Pierre, my affection was only friendship, and myheart has not changed toward you. The love which I now feel is quitedifferent. If it had not come to me, I might have been your wife. AndI esteemed you so much, that I should have been happy. But now Iunderstand the difference. You, whom I had accepted, would never havebeen more to me than a tender companion; he whom I have chosen will bemy master. "

Pierre uttered a cry at this cruel and frank avowal. 

"Ah! how you hurt me!"

And bitter tears rolled down his face to the relief of his overburdenedheart. He sank on to a seat, and for a moment gave way to violentgrief. Micheline, more touched by his despair than she had been by hisreproaches, went to him and wiped his face with her lace handkerchief. Her white hand was close to the young man's mouth, --and he kissed iteagerly. Then, as if roused by the action, he rose with a changed lookin his eyes, and seized the young girl in his arms. Micheline did notutter a word. She looked coldly and resolutely at Pierre, and threw backher head to avoid the contact of his eager lips. That look was enough. The arms which held her were unloosed, and Pierre moved away, murmuring:

"I beg your pardon. You see I am not in my right mind. "

Then passing his hand across his forehead as if to chase away a wickedthought, he added:

"So it is irrevocable? You love him?"

"Enough to give you so much pain; enough to be nobody's unless I belongto him. "

Pierre reflected a moment, then, coming to a decision:

"Go, you are free, " said he; "I give you back your promise. "

Micheline uttered a cry of triumph, which made him who had been herbetrothed turn pale. She regretted not having hidden her joy better. Sheapproached Pierre and said:

"Tell me that you forgive me!"

"I forgive you. "

"You still weep?"

"Yes; I am weeping over my lost happiness. I thought the best meansof being loved were to deserve it. I was mistaken. I will courageouslyatone for my error. Excuse my weakness, and believe that you will neverhave a more faithful and devoted friend than I. "

Micheline gave him her hand, and, smiling, bowed her forehead to hislips. He slowly impressed a brotherly kiss, which effaced the burningtrace of the one which he had stolen a moment before. 

At the same time a deep voice was heard in the distance, calling Pierre. Micheline trembled. 

"'Tis my mother, " she said. "She is seeking you. I will leave you. Adieu, and a thousand thanks from my very heart. "

And nimbly springing behind a clump of lilac-trees in flower, Michelinedisappeared. 

Pierre mechanically went toward the house. He ascended the marble stepsand entered the drawing-room. As he shut the door, Madame Desvarennesappeared. 

CHAPTER V. A CRITICAL INTERVIEW

Madame Desvarennes had been driven to the Hotel du Louvre without losinga minute. She most wanted to know in what state of mind her daughter'sbetrothed had arrived in Paris. Had the letter, which brutally toldhim the truth, roused him and tightened the springs of his will? Was heready for the struggle?

If she found him confident and bold, she had only to settle with him asto the common plan of action which must bring about the eviction ofthe audacious candidate who wished to marry Micheline. If she found himdiscouraged and doubtful of himself, she had decided to animate him withher ardor against Serge Panine. 

She prepared these arguments on the way, and, boiling with impatience, outstripped in thought the fleet horse which was drawing her past thelong railings of the Tuileries toward the Hotel du Louvre. Wrapped inher meditations she did not see Pierre. She was saying to herself:

"This fair-haired Polish dandy does not know with whom he has to deal. He will see what sort of a woman I am. He has not risen early enough inthe morning to hoodwink me. If Pierre is only of the same opinion as I, we shall soon spoil this fortune-hunter's work. "

The carriage stopped. 

"Monsieur Pierre Delarue?" inquired the mistress. 

"Madame, he went out a quarter of an hour ago. "

"To go where?"

"He did not say. "

"Do you know whether he will be absent long?"

"I don't know. "

"Much obliged. "

Madame Desvarennes, quite discomfited by this mischance, reflected. Where could Pierre have gone? Probably to her house. Without losing aminute, she reentered the carriage, and gave orders to return to the RueSaint-Dominique. If he had gone at once to her house, it was plain thathe was ready to do anything to keep Micheline. The coachman who hadreceived the order drove furiously. She said to herself:

"Pierre is in a cab. Allowing that he is driving moderately quick hewill only have half-an-hour's start of me. He will pass through theoffice, will see Marechal, and however eager he be, will lose a quarterof an hour in chatting to him. It would be most vexing if he didanything foolish in the remaining fifteen minutes! The fault is mine: Iought to have sent him a letter at Marseilles, to tell him what line ofconduct to adopt on his arrival. So long as he does not meet Michelineon entering the house!"

At that idea Madame Desvarennes felt the blood rushing to her face. Sheput her head out of the carriage window, and called to the coachman:

"Drive faster!"

He drove more furiously still, and in a few minutes reached the RueSaint-Dominique. 

She tore into the house like a hurricane, questioned the hall-porter, and learned that Delarue had arrived. She hastened to Marechal, andasked him in such a strange manner, "Have you seen Pierre?" that hethought some accident had happened. 

On seeing her secretary's scared look, she understood that what shemost dreaded had come to pass. She hurried to the drawing-room, callingPierre in a loud voice. The French window opened, and she found herselfface to face with the young man. A glance at her adopted son's faceincreased her fears. She opened her arms and clasped Pierre to herheart. 

After the first emotions were over, she longed to know what had happenedduring her absence, and inquired of Pierre:

"By whom were you received on arriving here?"

"By Micheline. "

"That is what I feared! What did she tell you?"

"Everything!"

In three sentences these two strong beings had summed up all that hadtaken place. Madame Desvarennes remained silent for a moment, then, withsudden tenderness, and as if to make up for her daughter's treachery, said:

"Come, let me kiss you again, my poor boy. You suffer, eh? and I too!I am quite overcome. For ten years I have cherished the idea of yourmarrying Micheline. You are a man of merit, and you have no relatives. You would not take my daughter away from me; on the contrary I think youlike me, and would willingly live with me. In arranging this marriageI realized the dream of my life. I was not taking a son-in-law-I wasgaining a new child. "

"Believe me, " said Pierre, sadly, "it is not my fault that your wish isnot carried out. "

"That, my boy, is another question!" cried Madame Desvarennes, whosevoice was at once raised two tones. "And that is where we do not agree. You are responsible for what has occurred. I know what you are going, to tell me. You wished to bring laurels to Micheline as a dower. Thatis all nonsense! When one leaves the Polytechnic School with honors, andwith a future open to you like yours, it is not necessary to scourthe deserts to dazzle a young girl. One begins by marrying her, andcelebrity comes afterward, at the same time as the children. And thenthere was no need to risk all at such a cost. What, are we then sogrand? Ex-bakers! Millionaires, certainly, which does not alter thefact that poor Desvarennes carried out the bread, and that I gave changeacross the counter when folks came to buy sou-cakes! But you wantedto be a knight-errant, and, during that time, a handsome fellow. DidMicheline tell you the gentleman's name?"

"I met him when I came here; he was with her in the garden. We wereintroduced to each other. "

"That was good taste, " said Madame Desvarennes with irony. "Oh, he is ayouth who is not easily disturbed, and in his most passionate transportswill not disarrange a fold of his cravat. You know he is a Prince? Thatis most flattering to the Desvarennes! We shall use his coat-of-arms asour trade-mark. The fortune hunter, ugh! No doubt he said to himself, 'The baker has money--and her daughter is agreeable. ' And he is making abusiness of it. "

"He is only following the example of many of his equals. Marriage isto-day the sole pursuit of the nobility. "

"The nobility! That of our country might be tolerated, but foreignnoblemen are mere adventurers. "

"It is well known that the Panines come from Posen--the papers havementioned them more than twenty times. "

"Why is he not in his own country?"

"He is exiled. "

"He has done something wrong, then!"

"He has, like all his family, fought for independence. "

"Then he is a revolutionist!"

"A patriot. "

"You are very kind to tell me all that. "

"I may hate Prince Panine, " said Pierre, simply, "but that is no reasonwhy I should not be just to him. "

"So be it; he is an exceptional being, a great citizen, a hero, if youlike. But that does not prove that he will make my daughter happy. Andif you take my advice, we shall send him about his business in a veryshort time. "

Madame Desvarennes was excited and paced hurriedly up and down the room. The idea of resuming the offensive after she had been forced to act onthe defensive for months past pleased her. She thought Pierre argued toomuch. A woman of action, she did not understand why Pierre had not yetcome to a resolution. She felt that she must gain his confidence. 

"You are master of the situation, " she said. "The Prince does not suitme--"

"Micheline loves him, " interrupted Pierre. 

"She fancies so, " replied Madame Desvarennes. "She has got it into herhead, but it will wear off. You thoroughly understand that I did not bidyou to come from Africa to be present at my daughter's wedding. If youare a man, we shall see some fun. Micheline is your betrothed. You haveour word, and the word of a Desvarennes is as good as the signature. --Ithas never been dishonored. Well, refuse to give us back our promise. Gain time, make love, and take my daughter away from that dandy. "

Pierre remained silent for a few minutes. In a moment he measured theextent of the mischief done, by seeing Micheline before consultingMadame Desvarennes. With the help of this energetic woman he might havestruggled, whereas left to his own strength, he had at the outset beenvanquished and forced to lay down his arms. Not only had he yielded, buthe had drawn his ally into his defeat. 

"Your encouragements come too late, " said he. "Micheline asked me togive her back her promise, and I gave it to her. "

"You were so weak as that!" cried Madame Desvarennes. "And she had somuch boldness? Does she dote on him so? I suspected her plans, and Ihastened to warn you. But all is not lost. You have given Michelineback her promise. So be it. But I have not given you back yours. You arepledged to me. I will not countenance the marriage which my daughter hasarranged without my consent! Help me to break it off. And, faith, youcould easily find another woman worth Micheline, but where shall I finda son-in-law worth you? Come, the happiness of us all is in peril; saveit!"

"Why continue the struggle? I am beaten beforehand. "

"But if you forsake me, what can I do single-handed with Micheline?"

"Do what she wishes, as usual. You are surprised at my giving you thisadvice? It is no merit on my part. Until now you have refused yourdaughter's request; but if she comes again beseeching and crying, youwho are so strong and can say so well 'I will, ' will be weak and willnot be able to refuse her her Prince. Believe me; consent willingly. Whoknows? Your son'-in-law may be grateful to you for it by-and-by. "

Madame Desvarennes had listened to Pierre with amazement. 

"Really, you are incredible, " she said; "you discuss all this so calmly. Have you no grief?"

"Yes, " replied Pierre, solemnly, "it is almost killing me. "

"Nonsense! You are boasting!" cried Madame Desvarennes, vehemently. "Ah, scholar! figures have dried up your heart!"

"No, " replied the young man, with melancholy, "but work has destroyed inme the seductions of youth. It has made me thoughtful, and a little sad. I frightened Micheline, instead of attracting her. The worst is that welive in such a state of high pressure, it is quite impossible tograsp all that is offered to us in this life-work and pleasure. It isnecessary to make a choice, to economize one's time and strength, andto work with either the heart or the brain alone. The result is that theneglected organ wastes away, and that men of pleasure remain all theirlives mediocre workers, while hard workers are pitiful lovers. Theformer sacrifice the dignity of existence, the latter that which isthe charm of existence. So that, in decisive moments, when the man ofpleasure appeals to his intelligence, he finds he is unfit for duty, and when the man of toil appeals to his heart, he finds that he isunqualified for happiness. "

"Well, my boy, so much the worse for the women who cannot appreciate menof work, and who allow themselves to be wheedled by men of pleasure. Inever was one of those; and serious as you are, thirty years ago I wouldhave jumped at you. But as you know your ailment so well, why don't youcure yourself? The remedy is at hand. "

"What is it?"

"Strong will. Marry Micheline. I'll answer for everything. "

"She does not love me. "

"A woman always ends by loving her husband. "

"I love Micheline too much to accept her hand without her heart. "

Madame Desvarennes saw that she would gain nothing, and that the gamewas irrevocably lost. A great sorrow stole over her. She foresaw a darkfuture, and had a presentiment that trouble had entered the house withSerge Panine. What could she do? Combat the infatuation of her daughter!She knew that life would be odious for her if Micheline ceased to laughand to sing. Her daughter's tears would conquer her will. Pierre hadtold her truly. Where was the use of fighting when defeat was certain?She, too, felt that she was powerless, and with heartfelt sorrow came toa decision. 

"Come, I see that I must make up my mind to be grandmother to littleprinces. It pleases me but little on the father's account. My daughterwill have a sad lot with a fellow of that kind. Well, he had better keepin the right path; for I shall be there to call him to order. Michelinemust be happy. When my husband was alive, I was already more of a motherthan a wife; now my whole life is wrapped up in my daughter. "

Then raising her vigorous arms with grim energy, she added:

"Do you know, if my daughter were made miserable through her husband, Ishould be capable of killing him. "

These were the last words of the interview which decided the destinyof Micheline, of the Prince, of Madame Desvarennes, and of Pierre. Themistress stretched out her hand and rang the bell. A servant appeared, to whom she gave instructions to tell Marechal to come down. She thoughtit would be pleasant for Pierre to pour out his griefs into the heart ofhis friend. A man weeps with difficulty before a woman, and she guessedthat the young man's heart was swollen with tears. Marechal was not faroff. He arrived in a moment, and springing toward Pierre put his armsround his neck. When Madame Desvarennes saw the two friends fullyengrossed with each other, she said to Marechal:

"I give you leave until this evening. Then bring Pierre back with you; Iwish to see him after dinner. "

And with a firm step she went toward Micheline's room, where the latterwas waiting in fear to know the result of the interview. 

CHAPTER VI. A SIGNIFICANT MEETING

The mansion in the Rue Saint-Dominique is certainly one of the finestto be seen. Sovereigns alone have more sumptuous palaces. The widestaircase, of carved oak, is bordered by a bronze balustrade, made byGhirlandajo, and brought from Florence by Sommervieux, the great dealerin curiosities. Baron Rothschild would consent to give only a hundredthousand francs for it. Madame Desvarennes bought it. The large panelsof the staircase are hung with splendid tapestry, from designs byBoucher, representing the different metamorphoses of Jupiter. At eachlanding-place stands a massive Japanese vase of 'claisonne' enamel, supported by a tripod of Chinese bronze, representing chimeras. On thefirst floor, tall columns of red granite, crowned by gilt capitals, divide the staircase from a gallery, serving as a conservatory. Plaitedblinds of crimson silk hang before the Gothic windows, filled withmarvellous stained glass. 

In the vestibule-the hangings of which are of Cordova-leather, with goldground-seemingly awaiting the good pleasure of some grand lady, is asedan-chair, decorated with paintings by Fragonard. Farther on, thereis one of those superb carved mother-of-pearl coffers, in which Orientalwomen lay by their finery and jewellery. A splendid Venetian mirror, itsframe embellished with tiny figure subjects, and measuring two metresin width and three in height, fills a whole panel of the vestibule. Portieres of Chinese satin, ornamented with striking embroidery, suchas figures on a priest's chasuble, fall in sumptuous folds at thedrawing-room and dining-room doors. 

The drawing-room contains a splendid set of Louis Quatorze furniture, of gilt wood, upholstered in fine tapestry, in an extraordinary stateof preservation. Three crystal lustres, hanging at intervals along theroom, sparkle like diamonds. The hangings, of woven silk and gold, arethose which were sent as a present by Louis Quatorze to Monsieur dePimentel, the Spanish Ambassador, to reward him for the part he hadtaken in the conclusion of the Treaty of the Pyrenees. Thesehangings are unique, and were brought back from Spain in 1814, in thebaggage-train of Soult's army, and sold to an inhabitant of Toulousefor ten thousand francs. It was there that Madame Desvarennes discoveredthem in a garret in 1864, neglected by the grandchildren of the buyer, who were ignorant of the immense value of such unrivalled work. Cleverlymended, they are to-day the pride of the great trader's drawing-room. On the mantelpiece there is a large clock in Chinese lacquer, ornamentedwith gilt bronze, made on a model sent out from Paris in the reign ofLouis Quatorze, and representing the Flight of the Hours pursued byTime. 

Adjoining the great drawing-room is a boudoir upholstered in light graysilk damask, with bouquets of flowers. This is Madame Desvarennes'sfavorite room. A splendid Erard piano occupies one side of theapartment. Facing it is a sideboard in sculptured ebony, enriched withbronze, by Gouthieres. There are only two pictures on the walls: "TheDeparture of the Newly Married Couple, " exquisitely painted by Lancret;and "The Prediction, " an adorable work by Watteau, bought at anincredible price at the Pourtales sale. Over the chimney-piece is aminiature by Pommayrac, representing Micheline as a little child--atreasure which Madame Desvarennes cannot behold without tears coming toher eyes. A door, hidden by curtains, opens on to a staircase leadingdirectly to the courtyard. 

The dining-room is in the purest Renaissance style austere woodwork;immense chests of caned pearwood, on which stand precious ewers inUrbino ware, and dishes by Bernard Palissy. The high stone fireplace issurmounted by a portrait of Diana of Poitiers, with a crescent on herbrow, and is furnished with firedogs of elaborately worked iron. Thecentre panel bears the arms of Admiral Bonnivet. Stained-glass windowsadmit a softly-tinted light. From the magnificently painted ceiling, a chandelier of brass repousse work hangs from the claws of a hoveringeagle. 

The billiard-room is in the Indian style. Magnificent panoplies uniteRajpoot shields, Mahratta scimitars, helmets with curtains of steel, rings belonging to Afghan chiefs, and long lances ornamented with whitemares' tails, wielded by the horsemen of Cabul. The walls are paintedfrom designs brought from Lahore. The panels of the doors were decoratedby Gerome. The great artist has painted Nautch girls twisting theirfloating scarves, and jugglers throwing poignards into the air. Aroundthe room are low divans, covered with soft and brilliant Oriental cloth. The chandelier is quite original in form, being the exact representationof the god Vishnu. From the centre of the body hangs a lotus leaf ofemeralds, and from each of the four arms is suspended a lamp shaped likea Hindu pagoda, which throws out a mellow light. 

Madame Desvarennes was entertaining her visitors in these celebratedapartments that evening. Marechal and Pierre had just come in, and weretalking together near the fireplace. A few steps from them was a group, consisting of Cayrol, Madame Desvarennes, and a third person, who hadnever until then put his foot in the house, in spite of intercessions inhis favor made by the banker to Madame Desvarennes. He was a tall, pale, thin man, whose skin seemed stretched on his bones, with a stronglydeveloped under-jaw, like that of a ravenous animal, and eyes ofindefinable color, always changing, and veiled behind golden-rimmedspectacles. His hands were soft and smooth, with moist palms and closelycut nails--vicious hands, made to take cunningly what they coveted. Hehad scanty hair, of a pale yellow, parted just above the ear, so as toenable him to brush it over the top of his head. This personage, cladin a double-breasted surtout, over a white waistcoat, and wearing amany-colored rosette, was called Hermann Herzog. 

A daring financier, he had come from Luxembourg, preceded by a greatreputation; and, in a few months, he had launched in Paris such a seriesof important affairs that the big-wigs on the Exchange felt bound totreat with him. There were many rumors current about him. Some said hewas the most intelligent, most active, and most scrupulous of men thatit was possible to meet. Others said that no greater scoundrel hadever dared the vengeance of the law, after plundering honest people. Of German nationality, those who cried him down said he was born atMayence. Those who treated the rumors as legends said he was born atFrankfort, the most Gallic town beyond the river Rhine. 

He had just completed an important line of railway from Morocco to thecentre of our colony in Algeria, and now he was promoting a company forexporting grain and flour from America. Several times Cayrol had triedto bring Herzog and Madame Desvarennes together. The banker had aninterest in the grain and flour speculation, but he asserted that itwould not succeed unless the mistress had a hand in it. Cayrol had ablind faith in the mistress's luck. 

Madame Desvarennes, suspicious of everything foreign, and perfectlyacquainted with the rumors circulated respecting Herzog, had alwaysrefused to receive him. But Cayrol had been so importunate that, beingquite tired of refusing, and, besides, being willing to favor Cayrol forhaving so discreetly managed the negotiations of Micheline's marriage, she had consented. 

Herzog had just arrived. He was expressing to Madame Desvarennes hisdelight at being admitted to her house. He had so often heard her highlyspoken of that he had formed a high idea of her, but one which was, however, far below the reality; he understood now that it was an honorto be acquainted with her. He wheedled her with German grace, and with aGerman-Jewish accent, which reminds one of the itinerant merchants, whooffer you with persistence "a goot pargain. "

The mistress had been rather cold at first, but Herzog's amiability hadthawed her. This man, with his slow speech and queer eyes, produced afascinating effect on one like a serpent. He was repugnant, and yet, inspite of one's self one was led on. He, had at once introduced the grainquestion, but in this he found himself face to face with the real MadameDesvarennes; and no politeness held good on her part when it was aquestion of business. From his first words, she had found a weakpoint in the plan, and had attacked him with such plainness that thefinancier, seeing his enterprise collapse at the sound of the mistress'svoice-like the walls of Jericho at the sound of the Jewish trumpets--hadbeaten a retreat, and had changed the subject. 

He was about to float a credit and discount company superior to any inthe world. He would come back and talk with Madame Desvarennes about it, because she ought to participate in the large profits which the matterpromised. There was no risk. The novelty of the undertaking consistedin the concurrence of the largest banking-houses of France and abroad, which would hinder all competition, and prevent hostility on the partof the great money-handlers. It was very curious, and Madame Desvarenneswould feel great satisfaction in knowing the mechanism of this company, destined to become, from the first, the most important in the world, andyet most easy to understand. 

Madame Desvarennes neither said "Yes" nor "No. " Moved by the softand insinuating talkativeness of Herzog, she felt herself treading ondangerous ground. It seemed to her that her foot was sinking, as inthose dangerous peat-mosses of which the surface is covered with greengrass, tempting one to run on it. Cayrol was under the charm. He drankin the German's words. This clever man, who had never till then beenduped, had found his master in Herzog. 

Pierre and Marechal had come nearer, and Madame Desvarennes, profitingby this mingling of groups, introduced the men to each other. On hearingthe name of Pierre Delarue, Herzog looked thoughtful, and asked if theyoung man was the renowned engineer whose works on the coast of Africahad caused so much talk in Europe? On Madame Desvarennes replying in theaffirmative, he showered well-chosen compliments on Pierre. He had hadthe pleasure of meeting Delarue in Algeria, when he had gone over tofinish the railroad in Morocco. 

But Pierre had stepped back on learning that the constructor of thatimportant line was before him. 

"Ah! is it you, sir, who carried out that job?" said he. "Faith! youtreated those poor Moors rather hardly!"

He remembered the misery of the poor natives employed by Europeans whosuperintended the work. Old men, women, and children were placed at thedisposal of the contractors by the native authorities, to dig up andremove the soil; and these poor wretches, crushed with hard work, anddriven with the lash by drunken overseers--who commanded them with apistol in hand--under a burning sun, inhaled the noxious vapors arisingfrom the upturned soil, and died like flies. It was a terrible sight, and one that Pierre could not forget. 

But Herzog, with his cajoling sweetness, protested against thisexaggerated picture. Delarue had arrived during the dog-days--a badtime. And then, it was necessary for the work to be carried on withoutdelay. Besides, a few Moors, more or less--what did it matter? Negroes, all but monkeys!

Marechal, who had listened silently until then, interrupted theconversation, to defend the monkeys in the name of Littre. He had frameda theory, founded on Darwin, and tending to prove that men who despisedmonkeys despised themselves. Herzog, a little taken aback by thisunexpected reply, had looked at Marechal slyly, asking himself if itwas a joke. But, seeing Madame Desvarennes laugh, he recovered hisself-possession. Business could not be carried on in the East as inEurope. And then, had it not always been thus? Had not all the greatdiscoverers worked the countries which they discovered? ChristopherColumbus, Cortez--had they not taken riches from the Indians, inexchange for the civilization which they brought them? He (Herzog)had, in making a railway in Morocco, given the natives the meansof civilizing themselves. It was only fair that it should cost themsomething. 

Herzog uttered his tirade with all the charm of which he was capable; helooked to the right and to the left to notice the effect. He saw nothingbut constrained faces. It seemed as if they were expecting some oneor something. Time was passing; ten o'clock had just struck. From thelittle boudoir sounds of music were occasionally heard, when Micheline'snervous hand struck a louder chord on her piano. She was there, anxiously awaiting some one or something. Jeanne de Cernay, stretched inan easy-chair, her head leaning on her hand, was dreaming. 

During the past three weeks the young girl had changed. Her bright witno longer enlivened Micheline's indolent calmness; her brilliant eyeswere surrounded by blue rings, which denoted nights passed withoutsleep. The change coincided strangely with Prince Panine's departure forEngland, and the sending of the letter which recalled Pierre to Paris. Had the inhabitants of the mansion been less occupied with their owntroubles, they would no doubt have noticed this sudden change, and havesought to know the reason. But the attention of all was concentrated onthe events which had already troubled them, and which would no doubt beyet more serious to the house, until lately so quiet. 

The visitors' bell sounded, and caused Micheline to rise. The bloodrushed to her cheeks. She whispered, "It is he!" and, hesitating, sheremained a moment leaning on the piano, listening vaguely to the soundsin the drawing-room. The footman's voice announcing the visitor reachedthe young girls:

"Prince Panine. "

Jeanne also rose then, and if Micheline had turned round she wouldhave been frightened at the pallor of her companion. But MademoiselleDesvarennes was not thinking of Mademoiselle de Cernay; she had justraised the heavy door curtain, and calling to Jeanne, "Are you coming?"passed into the drawing-room:

It was indeed Prince Serge, who was expected by Cayrol with impatience, by Madame Desvarennes with silent irritation, by Pierre with deepanguish. The handsome prince, calm and smiling, with white cravat andelegantly fitting dress-coat which showed off his fine figure, advancedtoward Madame Desvarennes before whom he bowed. He seemed only to haveseen Micheline's mother. Not a look for the two young girls or the menwho were around him. The rest of the universe did not seem to count. He bent as if before a queen, with a dash of respectful adoration. Heseemed to be saying:

"Here I am at your feet; my life depends on you; make a sign and I shallbe the happiest of men or the most miserable. "

Micheline followed him with eyes full of pride; she admired his haughtygrace and his caressing humility. It was by these contrasts that Sergehad attracted the young girl's notice. She felt herself face to facewith a strange nature, different from men around her, and had becomeinterested in him. Then he had spoken to her, and his sweet penetratingvoice had touched her heart. 

What he had achieved with Micheline he longed to achieve with hermother. After placing himself at the feet of the mother of her whom heloved, he sought the road to her heart. He took his place beside themistress and spoke. He hoped that Madame Desvarennes would excuse thehaste of his visit. The obedience which he had shown in going awaymust be a proof to her of his submission to her wishes. He was her mostdevoted and respectful servant. He resigned himself to anything shemight exact of him. 

Madame Desvarennes listened to that sweet voice; she had never heardit so full of charm. She understood what influence this sweetness hadexercised over Micheline; she repented not having watched over her morecarefully, and cursed the hour that had brought all this evil upon them. She was obliged, however, to answer him. The mistress went straight tothe point. She was not one to beat about the bush when once her mind wasmade up. 

"You come, no doubt, sir, to receive an answer to the request youaddressed to me before your departure for England!"

The Prince turned slightly pale. The words which Madame Desvarennes wasabout to pronounce were of such importance to him that he could not helpfeeling moved. He answered, in a suppressed tone:

"I would not have dared to speak to you on the subject, Madame, especially in public; but since you anticipate my desire, I admit I amwaiting with deep anxiety for one word from you which will decide myfate. "

He continued bent before Madame Desvarennes like a culprit before hisjudge. The mistress was silent for a moment, as if hesitating beforeanswering, and then said, gravely:

"That word I hesitated to pronounce, but some one in whom I have greatconfidence has advised me to receive you favorably. "

"He, Madame, whoever he may be, has gained my everlasting gratitude. "

"Show it to him, " said Madame Desvarennes; "he is the companion ofMicheline's young days, almost a son to me. "

And turning toward Pierre, she pointed him out to Panine. 

Serge took three rapid strides toward Pierre, but quick as he had beenMicheline was before him. Each of the lovers seized a hand ofPierre, and pressed it with tender effusion. Panine, with his Polishimpetuosity, was making the most ardent protestations to Pierre--hewould be indebted to him for life. 

Micheline's late betrothed, with despair in his heart, allowed hishands to be pressed and wrung in silence. The voice of her whom he lovedbrought tears to his eyes. 

"How generous and good you are!" said the young girl, "how nobly youhave sacrificed yourself!"

"Don't thank me, " replied Pierre; "I have no merit in accomplishing whatyou admire. I am weak, you see, and I could not bear to see you suffer. "

There was a great commotion in the drawing-room. Cayrol was explainingto Herzog, who was listening with great attention, what was takingplace. Serge Panine was to be Madame Desvarennes's son-in-law. It was agreat event. 

"Certainly, " said the German; "Madame Desvarennes's son-in-law willbecome a financial power. And a Prince, too. What a fine name for aboard of directors!"

The two financiers looked at each other for a moment; the same thoughthad struck them. 

"Yes, but, " replied Cayrol, "Madame Desvarennes will never allow Panineto take part in business. "

"Who knows?" said Herzog. "We shall see how the marriage settlements aredrawn up. "

"But, " cried Cayrol, "I would not have it said that I was leading MadameDesvarennes's son-in-law into speculations. "

"Who is speaking of that?" replied Herzog, coldly. "Am I seekingshareholders? I have more money than I want; I refuse millions everyday. "

"Oh, I know capitalists run after you, " said Cayrol, laughingly; "andto welcome them you affect the scruples of a pretty woman. But let us goand congratulate the Prince. "

While Cayrol and Herzog were exchanging those few words which had such aconsiderable influence on the future of Serge Panine--a scene, terriblein its simplicity, was going on without being noticed. Micheline hadthrown herself with a burst of tenderness into her mother's arms. Serge was deeply affected by the young girl's affection for him, whena trembling hand touched his arm. He turned round. Jeanne de Cernay wasbefore him, pale and wan; her eyes sunken into her head like two blacknails, and her lips tightened by a violent contraction. The Prince stoodthunderstruck at the sight of her. He looked around him. Nobody wasobserving him. Pierre was beside Marechal, who was whispering thosewords which only true friends can find in the sad hours of life. Madame Desvarennes was holding Micheline in her arms. Serge approachedMademoiselle de Cernay. Jeanne still fixed on him the same menacinglook. He was afraid. 

"Take care!" he said. 

"Of what?" asked the young girl, with a troubled voice. "What have I tofear now?"

"What do you wish?" resumed Panine, with old firmness, and with agesture of impatience. 

"I wish to speak with you immediately. "

"You see that is impossible. "

"I must. "

Cayrol and Herzog approached. Serge smiled at Jeanne with a sign of thehead which meant "Yes. " The young girl turned away in silence, awaitingthe fulfilment of the promise made. 

Cayrol took her by the hand with tender familiarity. 

"What were you saying to the happy man who has gained the object of hisdreams, Mademoiselle? It is not to him you must speak, but to me, togive me hope. The moment is propitious; it is the day for betrothals. You know how much I love you; do me the favor of no longer repulsing meas you have done hitherto! If you would be kind, how charming it wouldbe to celebrate the two weddings on the same day. One church, oneceremony, one splendid feast would unite two happy couples. Is therenothing in this picture to entice you?"

"I am not easily enticed, as you know, " said Jeanne, in a firm voice, trying to smile. 

Micheline and Madame Desvarennes had drawn near. 

"Come, Cayrol, " said Serge, in a tone of command; "I am happy to-day;perhaps I may succeed in your behalf as I have done in my own. Let meplead your cause with Mademoiselle de Cernay?"

"With all my heart. I need an eloquent pleader, " sighed the banker, shaking his head sadly. 

"And you, Mademoiselle, will you submit to the trial?" asked the Prince, turning toward Jeanne. "We have always been good friends, and I shallbe almost a brother to you. This gives me some right over your mind andheart, it seems to me. Do you authorize me to exercise it?"

"As you like, sir, " answered Jeanne, coldly. "The attempt is novel. Whoknows? Perhaps it will succeed!"

"May Heaven grant it, " said Cayrol. Then, approaching Panine:

"Ah! dear Prince, what gratitude I shall owe you! You know, " added he ina whisper, "if you need a few thousand louis for wedding presents--"

"Go, go, corrupter!" replied Serge, with the same forced gayety; "youare flashing your money in front of us. You see it is not invincible, asyou are obliged to have recourse to my feeble talents. But know that Iam working for glory. "

And turning toward Madame Desvarennes he added: "I only ask a quarter ofan hour. "

"Don't defend yourself too much, " said Micheline in her companion's ear, and giving her a tender kiss which the latter did not return. 

"Come with me, " said Micheline to Pierre, offering him her arm; "I wantto belong to you alone while Serge is pleading with Jeanne. I will beyour sister as formerly. If you only knew how I love you!"

The large French window which led to the garden had just been openedby Marechal, and the mild odors of a lovely spring night perfumed thedrawing-room. They all went out on the lawn. Thousands of stars weretwinkling in the sky, and the eyes of Micheline and Pierre were liftedtoward the dark blue heavens seeking vaguely for the star which presidedover their destiny. She, to know whether her life would be the long poemof love of which she dreamed; he, to ask whether glory, that exactingmistress for whom he had made so many sacrifices, would at least comforthim for his lost love. 

BOOK 2. 

CHAPTER VII. JEANNE'S SECRET

In the drawing-room Jeanne and Serge remained standing, facing eachother. The mask had fallen from their faces; the forced smile haddisappeared. They looked at each other attentively, like two duellistsseeking to read each other's game, so that they may ward off the fatalstroke and prepare the decisive parry. 

"Why did you leave for England three weeks ago, without seeing me andwithout speaking to me?"

"What could I have said to you?" replied the Prince, with an air offatigue and dejection. 

Jeanne flashed a glance brilliant as lightning:

"You could have told me that you had just asked for Micheline's hand!"

"That would have been brutal!"

"It would have been honest! But it would have necessitated anexplanation, and you don't like explaining. You have preferred leavingme to guess this news from the acts of those around me, and the talk ofstrangers. "

All these words had been spoken by Jeanne with feverish vivacity. Thesentences were as cutting as strokes from a whip. The young girl'sagitation was violent; her cheeks were red, and her breathing was hardand stifled with emotion. She stopped for a moment; then, turning towardthe Prince, and looking him full in the face, she said:

"And so, this marriage is decided?"

Serge answered, "Yes. "

It was fainter than a whisper. As if she could not believe it, Jeannerepeated:

"You are going to marry Micheline?"

And as Panine in a firmer voice answered again, "Yes!" the young girltook two rapid steps and brought her flushed face close to him. 

"And I, then?" she cried with a violence she could no longer restrain. 

Serge made a sign. The drawing-room window was still open, and fromoutside they could be heard. 

"Jeanne, in mercy calm yourself, " replied he. "You are in a state ofexcitement. "

"Which makes you uncomfortable?" interrupted the young girl mockingly. 

"Yes, but for your sake only, " said he, coldly. 

"For mine?"

"Certainly. I fear your committing an imprudence which might harm you. "

"Yes; but you with me! And it is that only which makes you afraid. "

The Prince looked at Mademoiselle de Cernay, smilingly. Changing histone, he took her hand in his. 

"How naughty you are to-night! And what temper you are showingtoward poor Serge! What an opinion he will have of himself after yourdisplaying such a flattering scene of jealousy!"

Jeanne drew away her hand. 

"Ah, don't try to joke. This is not the moment, I assure you. You don'texactly realize your situation. Don't you understand that I am preparedto tell Madame Desvarennes everything--"

"Everything!" said the Prince. "In truth, it would not amount to much. You would tell her that I met you in England; that I courted you, andthat you found my attentions agreeable. And then? It pleases you tothink too seriously of that midsummer night's dream under the greattrees of Churchill Castle, and you reproach me for my errors! But whatare they? Seriously, I do not see them! We lived in a noisy world; wherewe enjoyed the liberty which English manners allow to young people. Youraunt found no fault with the charming chatter which the English callflirtation. I told you I loved you; you allowed me to think that I wasnot displeasing to you. We, thanks to that delightful agreement, spenta most agreeable summer, and now you do not wish to put an end to thatpleasant little excursion made beyond the limits drawn by our Parisianworld, so severe, whatever people say about it. It is not reasonable, and it is imprudent. If you carry out your menacing propositions, and ifyou take my future mother-in-law as judge of the rights which youclaim, don't you understand that you would be condemned beforehand? Herinterests are directly opposed to yours. Could she hesitate between herdaughter and you?"

"Oh! your calculations are clever and your measures were well taken, "replied Jeanne. "Still, if Madame Desvarennes were not the woman youthink her--" Then, hesitating:

"If she took my part, and thinking that he who was an unloyal loverwould be an unfaithful husband--she would augur of the future of herdaughter by my experience; and what would happen?"

"Simply this, " returned Serge. "Weary of the precarious and hazardouslife which I lead, I would leave for Austria, and rejoin the service. Auniform is the only garb which can hide poverty honorably. "

Jeanne looked at him with anguish; and making an effort said:

"Then, in any case, for me it is abandonment?" And falling upon a seat, she hid her face in her hands. Panine remained silent for a moment. Theyoung girl's, grief, which he knew to be sincere, troubled him more thanhe wished to show. He had loved Mademoiselle de Cernay, and he loved herstill. But he felt that a sign of weakness on his part would place himat Jeanne's mercy, and that an avowal from his lips at this grave momentmeant a breaking-off of his marriage with Micheline. He hardened himselfagainst his impressions, and replied, with insinuating sweetness:

"Why do you speak of desertion, when a good man who loves you fondly, and who possesses a handsome fortune, wishes to marry you?"

Mademoiselle de Cernay raised her head, hastily. 

"So, it is you who advise me to marry Monsieur Cayrol? Is there nothingrevolting to you in the idea that I should follow your advice? But then, you deceived me from the first moment you spoke to me. You have neverloved me even for a day! Not an hour!"

Serge smiled, and resuming his light, caressing tone, replied:

"My dear Jeanne, if I had a hundred thousand francs a year, I give youmy word of honor that I would not marry another woman but you, for youwould make an adorable Princess. "

Mademoiselle de Cernay made a gesture of perfect indifference. 

"Ah! what does the title matter to me?" she exclaimed, with passion. "What I want is you! Nothing but you!"

"You do not know what you ask. I love you far too much to associate youwith my destiny. If you knew that gilded misery, that white kid-glovedpoverty, which is my lot, you would be frightened, and you wouldunderstand that in my resolution to give you up there is much oftenderness and generosity. Do you think it is such an easy matter togive up a woman so adorable as you are? I resign myself to it, though. 

"What could I do with my beautiful Jeanne in the three rooms in the Ruede Madame where I live? Could I, with the ten or twelve thousand francswhich I receive through the liberality of the Russian Panines, providea home? I can hardly make it do for myself. I live at the club, where Idine cheaply. I ride my friends' horses! I never touch a card, althoughI love play. I go much in society; I shine there, and walk home to savethe cost of a carriage. My door-keeper cleans my rooms and keeps mylinen in order. My private life is sad, dull, and humiliating. It isthe black chrysalis of the bright butterfly which you know. That is whatPrince Panine is, my dear Jeanne. A gentleman of good appearance, wholives as carefully as an old maid. The world sees him elegant andhappy, and its envies his luxury; but this luxury is as deludingas watch-chains made of pinchbeck. You understand now that I cannotseriously ask you to share such an existence. "

But if, with this sketch of his life, correctly described, Paninethought to turn the young girl against him, he was mistaken. He hadcounted without considering Jeanne's sanguine temperament, which wouldlead her to make any sacrifices to keep the man she adored. 

"If you were rich, Serge, " she said, "I would not have made an effortto bring you back to me. But you are poor and I have a right to tell youthat I love you. Life with you would be all devotedness and self-denial. Each pain endured would be a proof of love, and that is why I wish tosuffer. Your life with mine would be neither sad nor humiliated; Iwould make it sweet by my tenderness, and bright by my happiness. And weshould be so happy that you would say, 'How could I ever have dreamed ofanything else?'"

"Alas! Jeanne, " replied the Prince; "it is a charming and poetic idylwhich you present to me. We should flee far from the world, eh? Weshould go to an unknown spot and try to regain paradise lost. How longwould that happiness last? A season during the springtime of our youth. Then autumn would come, sad and harsh. Our illusions would vanish likethe swallows in romances, and we should find, with alarm, that we hadtaken the dream of a day for eternal happiness! Forgive my speakingplain words of disenchantment, " added Serge, seeing Jeanne risingabruptly, "but our life is being settled at this moment. Reason aloneshould guide us. "

"And I beseech you to be guided only by your heart, " cried Mademoisellede Cernay, seizing the hands of the Prince, and pressing them with hertrembling fingers. "Remember that you loved me. Say that you love mestill!"

Jeanne had drawn near to Serge. Her burning face almost touched his. Hereyes, bright with excitement, pleaded passionately for a tender look. She was most fascinating, and Panine, usually master of himself, losthis presence of mind for a moment. His arms encircled the shoulders ofthe adorable pleader, and his lips were buried in the masses of her darkhair. 

"Serge!" cried Mademoiselle de Cernay, clinging to him whom she loved sofondly. 

But the Prince was as quickly calmed as he had been carried away. Hegently put Jeanne aside. 

"You see, " he said with a smile, "how unreasonable we are and how easilywe might commit an irreparable folly. And yet our means will not allowus. "

"In mercy do not leave me!" pleaded Jeanne, in a tone of despair. "Youlove me! I feel it; everything tells me so! And you would desert mebecause you are poor and I am not rich. Is a man ever poor when he hastwo arms? Work. "

The word was uttered by Jeanne with admirable energy. She possessed thecourage to overcome every difficulty. 

Serge trembled. For the second time he felt touched to the very soulby this strange girl. He understood that he must not leave her with theslightest hope of encouragement, but throw ice on the fire which wasdevouring her. 

"My dear Jeanne, " he said, with affectionate sweetness, "you are talkingnonsense. Remember this, that for Prince Panine there are only threesocial conditions possible: to be rich, a soldier, or a priest. I havethe choice. It is for you to decide. "

This put an end to Mademoiselle de Cernay's resistance. She felt howuseless was further argument, and falling on a sofa, crushed with grief, cried:

"Ah! this time it is finished; I am lost!"

Panine, then, approaching her, insinuating and supple, like the serpentwith the first woman, murmured in her ear, as if afraid lest his words, in being spoken aloud, would lose their subtle venom:

"No, you are not lost. On the contrary, you are saved, if you willonly listen to and understand me. What are we, you and I? You, a childadopted by a generous woman; I, a ruined nobleman. You live in luxury, thanks to Madame Desvarennes's liberality. I can scarcely manage to keepmyself with the help of my family. Our present is precarious, our futurehazardous. And, suddenly, fortune is within our grasp. We have only tostretch out our hands, and with one stroke we gain the uncontested powerwhich money brings!

"Riches, that aim of humanity! Do you understand? We, the weak anddisdained, become strong and powerful. And what is necessary to gainthem? A flash of sense; a minute of wisdom; forget a dream and accept areality. "

Jeanne waited till he had finished. A bitter smile played on her lips. Henceforth she would believe in no one. After listening to what Sergehad just said, she could listen to anything. 

"So, " said she, "the dream is love; the reality is interest. And is ityou who speak thus to me? You, for whom I was prepared to endure anysacrifice! You, whom I would have served on my knees! And what reason doyou give to justify your conduct? Money! Indispensable and stupid money!Nothing but money! But it is odious, infamous, low!"

Serge received this terrible broadside of abuse without flinching. Hehad armed himself against contempt, and was deaf to all insults. Jeannewent on with increasing rage:

"Micheline has everything: family, fortune, and friends, and she istaking away my one possession--your love. Tell me that you love her! Itwill be more cruel but less vile! But no, it is not possible! Yougave way to temptation at seeing her so rich; you had a feeling ofcovetousness, but you will become yourself again and will act like anhonest man. Think, that in my eyes you are dishonoring yourself! Serge, answer me!"

She clung to him again, and tried to regain him by her ardor, towarm him with her passion. He remained unmoved, silent, and cold. Herconscience rebelled. 

"Well, then, " said she, "marry her. "

She remained silent and sullen, seeming to forget he was there. She wasthinking deeply. Then she walked wildly up and down the room, saying:

"So, it is that implacable self-interest with which I have just come incontact, which is the law of the world, the watchword of society! So, inrefusing to share the common folly, I risk remaining in isolation, andI must be strong to make others stand in awe of me. Very well, then, Ishall henceforth act in such a manner as to be neither dupe nor victim. In future, everything will be: self, and woe to him who hinders me. Thatis the morality of the age, is it not?"

And she laughed nervously. 

"Was I not stupid? Come, Prince, you have made me clever. Many thanksfor the lesson; it was difficult, but I shall profit by it. "

The Prince, astonished at the sudden change, listened to Jeanne withstupor. He did not yet quite understand. 

"What do you intend to do?" asked he. 

Jeanne looked at him with a fiendish expression. Her eyes sparkled likestars; her white teeth shone between her lips. 

"I intend, " replied she, "to lay the foundation of my power, and tofollow your advice, by marrying a millionaire!"

She ran to the window, and, looking out toward the shady garden, called:

"Monsieur Cayrol!"

Serge, full of surprise, and seized by a sudden fit of jealousy, wenttoward her as if to recall her. 

"Jeanne, " said he, vaguely holding out his arms. 

"Well! what is it?" she asked, with crushing haughtiness. "Are youfrightened at having gained your cause so quickly?"

And as Serge did not speak:

"Come, " added she, "you will have a handsome fee; Micheline's dower willbe worth the trouble you have had. "

They heard Cayrol's hurried steps ascending the stairs. 

"You have done me the honor to call me, Mademoiselle, " said he, remaining on the threshold of the drawing-room. "Am I fortunate enoughat length to have found favor in your eyes?"

"Here is my hand, " said Mademoiselle de Cernay, simply tendering him herwhite taper fingers, which he covered with kisses. 

Madame Desvarennes had come in behind the banker. She uttered a joyousexclamation. 

"Cayrol, you shall not marry Jeanne for her beauty alone. I will giveher a dower. "

Micheline fell on her companion's neck. It was a concert ofcongratulations. But Jeanne, with a serious air, led Cayrol aside:

"I wish to act honestly toward you, sir; I yield to the pleading ofwhich I am the object. But you must know that my sentiments do notchange so quickly. It is my hand only which I give you today. "

"I have not the conceitedness to think that you love me, Mademoiselle, "said Cayrol, humbly. "You give me your hand; it will be for me to gainyour heart, and with time and sincere affection I do not despair ofwinning it. I am truly happy, believe me, for the favor you do me, andall my life long shall be spent in proving my gratitude to you. "

Jeanne was moved; she glanced at Cayrol, and did not think him socommon-looking as usual. She resolved to do all in her power to likethis good man. 

Serge, in taking leave of Madame Desvarennes, said:

"In exchange for all the happiness which you give me, I have only mylife to offer; accept it, Madame, it is yours. "

The mistress looked at the Prince deeply; then, in a singular tone, said:

"I accept it; from to-day you belong to me. "

Marechal took Pierre by the arm and led him outside. 

"The Prince has just uttered words which remind me of Antonio saying tothe Jew in 'The Merchant of Venice': 'Thy ducats in exchange for apound of my flesh. ' Madame Desvarennes loves her daughter with a moreformidable love than Shylock had for his gold. The Prince will do wellto be exact in his payments of the happiness which he has promised. "

CHAPTER VIII. A PLEASANT UNDERSTANDING

The day following this memorable evening, Pierre left for Algeria, notwithstanding the prayers of Madame Desvarennes who wished to keep himnear her. He was going to finish his labors. He promised to returnin time for the wedding. The mistress, wishing to give him somecompensation, offered him the management of the mills at Jouy, saying:

"So that if you are not my son, you will be at least my partner. And ifI do not leave you all my money at my death, I can enrich you during mylife. "

Pierre would not accept. He would not have it said that in wishing tomarry Micheline he had tried to make a speculation. He wished to leavethat house where he had hoped to spend his life, empty-handed, so thatno one could doubt that it was the woman he loved in Micheline and notthe heiress. He had been offered a splendid appointment in Savoy asmanager of some mines; he would find there at the same time profit andhappiness, because there were interesting scientific studies to be madein order to enable him to carry on the work creditably. He resolved tothrow himself heart and soul into the work and seek forgetfulness instudy. 

In the mansion of the Rue Saint-Dominique the marriage preparations werecarried on with great despatch. On the one side the Prince, and onthe other Cayrol, were eager for the day: the one because he saw therealization of his ambitious dreams, the other because he loved somadly. Serge, gracious and attentive, allowed himself to be adored byMicheline, who was never weary of listening to and looking at him whomshe loved. It was a sort of delirium that had taken possession of theyoung girl. Madame Desvarennes looked on the metamorphosis in her childwith amazement. The old Micheline, naturally indolent and cold, justliving with the indolence of an odalisque stretched on silk cushions, had changed into a lively, loving sweetheart, with sparkling eyes andcheerful lips. Like those lowers which the sun causes to bloom and befragrant, so Micheline under a look from Serge became animated and grownhandsomer. 

The mother looked on with bitterness; she spoke of this transformationin her child with ironical disdain, She was sure Micheline was not inearnest; only a doll was capable of falling in love so foolishly with aman for his personal beauty. For to her mind the Prince was as regardsmental power painfully deficient. No sense, dumb as soon as theconversation took a serious turn, only able to talk dress like a woman, or about horses like a jockey. And it was such a person upon whomMicheline literally doted! The mistress felt humiliated; she dared notsay anything to her daughter, but she relieved herself in company ofMarechal, whose discretion she could trust, and whom she willinglycalled the tomb of her secrets. 

Marechal listened patiently to the confidences of Madame Desvarennes, and he tried to fight against the growing animosity of the mistresstoward her future son-in-law. Not that he liked the Prince--he was toomuch on Pierre's side to be well disposed toward Panine; but with hisgood sense he saw that Madame Desvarennes would find it advantageous toovercome her feeling of dislike. And when the mistress, so formidabletoward everybody except her daughter, cried with rage:

"That Micheline! I have just seen her again in the garden, hanging onthe arm of that great lanky fellow, her eyes fixed on his like a larkfascinated by a looking-glass. What on earth has happened to her thatshe should be in such a state?"

Marechal interrupted her gently. 

"All fair people are like that, " he affirmed with ironical gayety. "Youcannot understand it, Madame; you are dark. "

Then Madame Desvarennes became angry. 

"Be quiet, " she said, "you are stupid! She ought to have a shower-bath!She is mad!"

As for Cayrol he lived in ecstasy, like an Italian kneeling before amadonna. He had never been so happy; he was overwhelmed with joy. Untilthen, he had only thought of business matters. To be rich was the aimof his life; and now he was going to work for happiness. It was allpleasure for him. He was not blase; he amused himself like a child, adorning the rooms which were to be occupied by Jeanne. To his mindnothing was too expensive for the temple of his goddess, as he said, with a loud laugh which lighted up his whole face. And when he spoke ofhis love's future nest, he exclaimed, with a voluptuous shiver:

"It is charming; a veritable little paradise!" Then the financier shonethrough all, and he added:

"And I know what it costs!"

But he did not grudge his money. He knew he would get the interest ofit back. On one subject he was anxious--Mademoiselle de Cernay's health. Since the day of their engagement, Jeanne had become more serious anddull. She had grown thin and her eyes were sunken as if she wept insecret. When he spoke of his fears to Madame Desvarennes, the lattersaid:

"These young girls are so senseless. The notion of marriage puts them insuch an incomprehensible state! Look at my daughter. She chatters likea magpie and skips about like a kid. She has two glow-worms under hereyelids! As to Jeanne, that's another affair; she has the matrimonialmelancholy, and has the air of a young victim. Leave them alone; itwill all come right. But you must admit that the gayety of the one is atleast as irritating as the languor of the other!"

Cayrol, somewhat reassured by this explanation, and thinking, like her, that it was the uncertainties of marriage which were troubling Jeanne, no longer attached any importance to her sad appearance. Micheline andSerge isolated themselves completely. They fled to the garden as soon asany one ventured into the drawing room, to interrupt their tete-a-tete. If visitors came to the garden they took refuge in the conservatory. 

This manoeuvre pleased Serge, because he always felt uncomfortable inJeanne's presence. Mademoiselle de Cernay had a peculiar wrinkle on herbrow whenever she saw Micheline passing before her hanging on the arm ofthe Prince, which tormented him. They were obliged to meet at table inthe evening, for Serge and Cayrol dined at the Rue Saint-Dominique. ThePrince talked in whispers to Micheline, but every now and then he wasobliged to speak to Jeanne. These were painful moments to Serge. Hewas always in dread of some outburst, knowing her ardent and passionatenature. Thus, before Jeanne, he made Micheline behave in a lessdemonstrative manner. Mademoiselle Desvarennes was proud of thisreserve, and thought it was tact and good breeding on the part of thePrince, without doubting that what she thought reserve in the man of theworld was the prudence of an anxious lover. 

Jeanne endured the tortures of Hades. Too proud to say anything afterthe explanation she had had with Serge, too much smitten to bear calmlythe sight of her rival's happiness, she saw draw near with deep horrorthe moment when she would belong to the man whom she had determined tomarry although she did not love him. She once thought of breaking offthe engagement; as she could not belong to the man whom she adored, atleast she could belong to herself. But the thought of the struggle shewould have to sustain with those who surrounded her, stopped her. Whatwould she do at Madame Desvarennes's? She would have to witness thehappiness of Micheline and Serge. She would rather leave the house. 

With Cayrol at least she could go away; she would be free, and perhapsthe esteem which she would surely have for her husband would do insteadof love. Sisterly or filial love, in fact the least affection, wouldsatisfy the poor man, who was willing to accept anything from Jeanne. And she would not have that group of Serge and Micheline before hereyes, always walking round the lawn and disappearing arm in arm downthe narrow walks. She would not have the continual murmur of theirlove-making in her ears, a murmur broken by the sound of kisses whenthey reached shady corners. 

One evening, when Serge appeared in the little drawing-room of the RueSaint-Dominique, he found Madame Desvarennes alone. She looked serious, as if same important business were pending. She stood before thefireplace; her hands crossed behind her back like a man. Apparently, she had sought to be alone. Cayrol, Jeanne, and Micheline were inthe garden. Serge felt uneasy. He had a presentiment of trouble. Butdetermined to make the best of it, whatever it might be, he lookedpleasant and bowed to Madame Desvarennes, without his face betraying hisuneasiness. 

"Good-day, Prince; you are early this evening, though not so early asCayrol; but then he does not quite know what he is doing now. Sit down, I want to talk to you. You know that a young lady like MademoiselleDesvarennes cannot get married without her engagement being much talkedabout. Tongues have been very busy, and pens too. I have heard a lot ofscandal and have received heaps of anonymous letters about you. "

Serge gave a start of indignation. 

"Don't be uneasy, " continued the mistress. "I did not heed the tales, and I burned the letters. Some said you were a dissolute man, capableof anything to gain your object. Others insinuated that you were not aPrince, that you were not a Pole, but the son of a Russian coachman anda little dressmaker of Les Ternes; that you had lived at the expense ofMademoiselle Anna Monplaisir, the star of the Varietes Theatre, and thatyou were bent on marrying to pay your debts with my daughter's money. "

Panine, pale as death, rose up and said, in a stifled voice:

"Madame!"

"Sit down, my dear child, " interrupted the mistress. "If I tell youthese things, it is because I have the proofs that they are untrue. Otherwise, I would not have given myself the trouble to talk to youabout them. I would have shown you the door and there would have beenan end of it. Certainly, you are not an angel; but the peccadillos whichyou have been guilty of are those which one forgives in a son, and whichin a son-in-law makes some mothers smile. You are a Prince, you arehandsome, and you have been loved. You were then a bachelor; and it wasyour own affair. But now, you are going to be, in about ten days, thehusband of my daughter, and it is necessary for us to make certainarrangements. Therefore, I waited to see you, to speak of your wife, ofyourself, and of me. "

What Madame Desvarennes had just said relieved Serge of a great weight. He felt so happy that he resolved to do everything in his power toplease the mother of his betrothed. 

"Speak, Madame, " he exclaimed. "I am listening to you with attentionand confidence. I am sure that from you I can only expect goodness andsense. "

The mistress smiled. 

"Oh, I know you have a gilt tongue, my handsome friend, but I don't paymyself with words, and I, am not easy to be wheedled. "

"Faith, " said Serge, "I won't deceive you. I will try to please you withall my heart. "

Madame Desvarennes's face brightened as suddenly at these words as alandscape, wrapped in a fog, which is suddenly lighted up by the sun. 

"Then we shall understand each other, " she said. "For the last fortnightwe have been busy with marriage preparations, and have not been ableto think or reason. Everybody is rambling about here. Still, we arecommencing a new life, and I think it is as well to lay the foundation. I seem to be drawing up a contract, eh? What can I do? It is an oldbusiness habit. I like to know how I stand. "

"I think it is quite right. I think, too, that you have acted with greatdelicacy in not imposing your conditions upon me before giving yourconsent. "

"Has that made you feel better disposed toward me? So much the better!"said the mistress. "Because you know that I depend on my daughter, whowill henceforth depend on you, and it is to my interest that I should bein your good graces. "

In pronouncing these words with forced cheerfulness, MadameDesvarennes's voice trembled slightly. She knew what an important gameshe was playing, and wished to win it at any price. 

"You see, " continued she, "I am not an easy woman to deal with. I am alittle despotic, I know. I have been in the habit of commanding duringthe last thirty-five years. Business was heavy, and required a strongwill. I had it, and the habit is formed. But this strong will, which hasserved me so well in business will, I am afraid, with you, play mesome trick. Those who have lived with me a long time know that if I amhot-headed I have a good heart. They submit to my tyranny; but you whoare a newcomer, how will you like it?"

"I shall do as the others do, " said Serge, simply. "I shall be led, and with pleasure. Think that I have lived for years without kindred, without ties--at random; and, believe me, any chain will be light andsweet which holds me to any one or anything. And then, " frankly addedhe, changing his tone and looking at Madame Desvarennes with tenderness, "if I did not do everything to please you I should be ungrateful. "

"Oh!" cried Madame Desvarennes, "unfortunately that is not a reason. "

"Would you have a better one?" said the young man, in his most charmingaccent. "If I had not married your daughter for her own sake, I believethat I should have married her for yours. " Madame Desvarennes was quitepleased, and shaking her finger threateningly at Serge, said:

"Ah, you Pole, you boaster of the North!"

"Seriously, " continued Serge, "before I knew I was to be yourson-in-law, I thought you a matchless woman. Add to the admiration I hadfor your great qualities the affection which your goodness has inspired, and you will understand that I am both proud and happy to have such amother as you. "

Madame Desvarennes looked at Panine attentively; she saw he was sincere. Then, taking courage, she touched the topic of greatest interest to her. "If that is the case, you will have no objections to live with me?" Shestopped; then emphasized the words, "With me. "

"But was not that understood?" asked Serge, gayly' "I thought so. Youmust have seen that I have not been seeking a dwelling for my wife andmyself. If you had not made the offer to me, I should have asked you tolet me stay with you. "

Madame Desvarennes broke into such an outburst of joy that sheastonished Panine. It was then only that in that pallor, in that suddentrembling, in that changed voice, he understood, the immensity of themother's love for her daughter. 

"I have everything to gain by that arrangement, " continued he. "My wifewill be happy at not leaving you, and you will be pleased at my nothaving taken away your daughter. You will both like me better, and thatis all I wish. "

"How good you are in deciding thus, and how I thank you for it, " resumedMadame Desvarennes. "I feared you would have ideas of independence. "

"I should have been happy to sacrifice them to you, but I have not eventhat merit. "

All that Serge had said had been so open and plain, and expressed withsuch sweetness that, little by little, Madame Desvarennes's prejudicesdisappeared. He took possession of her as he had done of Micheline, and as he did of every one whom he wished to conquer. His charm wasirresistible. He seized on one by the eyes and the ears. Naturallyfascinating, moving, captivating, bold, he always preserved his artlessand tender ways, which made him resemble a young girl. 

"I am going to tell you how we shall manage, " said the mistress. "Foreseeing my daughter's marriage, I have had my house divided intotwo distinct establishments. They say that life in common with amother-in-law is objectionable to a son-in-law, therefore I wish youto have a home of your own. I know that an old face like mine frightensyoung lovers. I will come to you when you invite me. But even when Iam shut up in my own apartments I shall be with my daughter; I shallbreathe the same air; I shall hear her going and coming, singing, laughing, and I shall say to myself, 'It is all right, she is happy. 'That is all I ask. A little corner, whence I can share her life. "

Serge took her hand with effusion. 

"Don't be afraid; your daughter will not leave you. "

Madame Desvarennes, unable to contain her feelings, opened her arms, andSerge fell on her breast, like a true son. 

"Do you know, I am going to adore you!" cried Madame Desvarennes, showing Panine a face beaming with happiness. 

"I hope so, " said the young man, gayly. 

Madame Desvarennes became thoughtful. 

"What a strange thing life is!" resumed she. "I did not want you for ason-in-law, and now you are behaving so well toward me that I am fullof remorse. Oh, I see now what a dangerous man you are, if you captivateother women's hearts as you have caught mine. "

She looked at the Prince fixedly, and added, in her clear commandingvoice, with a shade of gayety:

"Now, I hope you will reserve all your powers of charming for mydaughter. No more flirting, eh? She loves you; she would be jealous, and you would get into hot water with me! Let Micheline's life be happy, without a cloud-blue, always blue sky!"

"That will be easy, " said Serge. "To be unhappy I should have to seekmisfortune; and I certainly shall not do that. "

He began to laugh. 

"Besides, your good friends who criticised so when you gave meMicheline's hand would be only too pleased. I will not give them thepleasure of posing as prophets and saying, 'We knew it would be so!'"

"You must forgive them, " replied Madame Desvarennes. "You have madeenemies. Without speaking of projects which I had formed, I may say thatmy daughter has had offers from the best folks in Paris; from first-ratefirms! Our circle was rather indignant. 

"People said: 'Oh, Madame Desvarennes wanted her daughter to be aPrincess. We shall see how it will turn out. Her son-in-law will spendher money and spurn her. ' The gossip of disappointed people. Give themthe lie; manage that we shall all live together, and we shall be rightagainst the world. "

"Do you hope it will be so?"

"I am sure of it, " answered the mistress, affectionately pressing thehand of her future son-in-law. 

Micheline entered, anxious at the long interview between Serge and hermother. She saw them hand in hand. She uttered a joyful cry, and threwher arms caressingly round her mother's neck. 

"Well! you are agreed?" she said, making a gracious sign to Serge. 

"He has been charming, " replied Madame Desvarennes, whispering inher daughter's ear. "He agrees to live in this house, and that quitegracefully. There, child, this is the happiest moment I've had sinceyour engagement. I admit that I regret nothing. "

Then, resuming aloud:

"We will leave to-morrow for Cernay, where the marriage shall takeplace. I shall have to order the workmen in here to get ready for yourreception. Besides the wedding will be more brilliant in the country. Weshall have all the work-people there. We will throw the park open tothe countryside; it will be a grand fete. For we are lords of the manorthere, " added she, with pride. 

"You are right, mamma; it will be far better, " exclaimed Micheline. Andtaking Serge by the hand:

"Come, let us go, " said she, and led him into the garden. 

And amid the sweet-smelling shrubs they resumed their walk, always thesame yet ever new, their arms twined round each other, the young girlclinging to him whom she loved, and he looking fondly at her, and withcaressing voice telling her the oft-told tale of love which she wasnever tired of hearing, and which always filled her with thrills of joy. 

CHAPTER IX. THE DOUBLE MARRIAGE

The Chateau of Cernay is a vast and beautiful structure of the time ofLouis XIII. A walled park of a hundred acres surrounds it, with treescenturies old. A white painted gate separates the avenue from the roadleading to Pontoise by way of Conflans. A carpet of grass, on whichcarriages roll as if on velvet, leads up to the park gates. Beforereaching, it there is a stone bridge which spans the moat of runningwater. A lodge of stone, faced with brick, with large windows, rises ateach corner of this space. 

The chateau, surrounded by cleverly arranged trees, stands in thecentre, on a solid foundation of red granite from the Jura. A splendiddouble staircase leads to the ground floor as high as an 'entresol'. Aspacious hall, rising to the roof of the building, lighted by a windowfilled with old stained glass, first offers itself to the visitor. Alarge organ, by Cavallie-Col, rears its long brilliant pipes at one endof the hall to a level with the gallery of sculptured wood running roundand forming a balcony on the first floor. At each corner is a knightin armor, helmet on head, and lance in hand, mounted on a charger, andcovered with the heavy trappings of war. Cases full of objects of art ofgreat value, bookshelves containing all the new books, are placed alongthe walls. A billiard-table and all sorts of games are lodged underthe vast staircase. The broad bays which give admission to thereception-rooms and grand staircase are closed by tapestry of thefifteenth century, representing hunting scenes. Long cords of silk andgold loop back these marvellous hangings in the Italian style. Thickcarpets, into which the feet sink, deaden the sound of footsteps. Spacious divans, covered with Oriental materials, are placed round theroom. 

Over the chimney-piece, which is splendidly carved in woodwork, is alooking-glass in the Renaissance style, with a bronze and silver frame, representing grinning fawns and dishevelled nymphs. Benches are placedround the hearth, which is large enough to hold six people. Abovethe divans, on the walls, are large oil-paintings by old masters. An"Assumption, " by Jordaens, which is a masterpiece; "The Gamesters, " byValentin; "A Spanish Family on Horseback, " painted by Velasquez; and themarvel of the collection--a "Holy Family, " by Francia, bought in Russia. Then, lower down, "A Young Girl with a Canary, " by Metzu; a "Kermesse, "by Braurver, a perfect treasure, glitter, like the gems they are, in themidst of panoplies, between the high branches of palm-trees planted inenormous delft vases. A mysterious light filters into that fresh andpicturesque apartment through the stained-glass windows. 

From the hall the left wing is reached, where the reception-rooms are, and one's eyes are dazzled by the brightness which reigns there. It islike coming out from a cathedral into broad daylight. The furniture, ofgilt wood and Genoese velvet, looks very bright. The walls are whiteand gold; and flowers are everywhere. At the end is Madame Desvarennes'sbedroom, because she does not like mounting stairs, and lives onthe ground floor. Adjoining it is a conservatory, furnished as adrawing-room, and serving as a boudoir for the mistress of the house. 

The dining-room, the gun-room, and the smoking-room are in the rightwing. The gun-room deserves a particular description. Four glass casescontain guns of every description and size of the best English andFrench manufacture. All the furniture is made of stags' horns, coveredwith fox-skins and wolf-skins. A large rug, formed by four bears' skins, with menacing snouts, showing their white teeth at the four corners, is in the centre of the room. On the walls are four paintings byPrinceteau, admirably executed, and representing hunting scenes. Lowcouches, wide as beds, covered with gray cloth, invite the sportsmen torest. Large dressing-rooms, fitted up with hot and cold water, invitethem to refresh themselves with a bath. Everything has been done to suitthe most fastidious taste. The kitchens are underground. 

On the first story are the principal rooms. Twelve bedrooms, withdressing-rooms, upholstered in chintz of charming design. From these, a splendid view of the park and country beyond may be obtained. In theforeground is a piece of water, bathing, with its rapid current, thegrassy banks which border the wood, while the low-lying branches ofthe trees dip into the flood, on which swans, dazzlingly white, swim instately fashion. Beneath an old willow, whose drooping boughs formquite a vault of pale verdure, a squadron of multicolored boats remainfastened to the balustrade of a landing stage. Through an opening inthe trees you see in the distance fields of yellow corn, and in the nearbackground, behind a row of poplars, ever moving like a flash of silverlightning, the Oise flows on between its low banks. 

This sumptuous dwelling, on the evening of the 14th of July, was inits greatest splendor. The trees of the park were lit up by brilliantVenetian lanterns; little boats glided on the water of the lake carryingmusicians whose notes echoed through the air. Under a marquee, placedmidway in the large avenue, the country lads and lasses were dancingwith spirit, while the old people, more calm, were seated under thelarge trees enjoying the ample fare provided. A tremendous uproar ofgayety reechoed through the night, and the sound of the cornet attractedthe people to the ball. 

It was nine o'clock. Carriages were fast arriving with guests for themansion. In the centre of the handsome hall, illuminated with electriclight, stood Madame Desvarennes in full dress, having put off blackfor one day, doing honor to the arrivals. Behind her stood Marechal andSavinien, like two aides-de-camp, ready, at a sign, to offer their armsto the ladies, to conduct them to the drawing-rooms. The gathering wasnumerous. Merchant-princes came for Madame Desvarennes's sake; bankersfor Cayrol's; and the aristocrats and foreign nobility for the Prince's. An assemblage as opposed in ideas as in manners: some valuing onlymoney, others high birth; all proud and elbowing each other with haughtyassurance, speaking ill of each other and secretly jealous. 

There were heirs of dethroned kings; princes without portions, who werecalled Highness, and who had not the income of their fathers' formerchamberlains; millionaires sprung from nothing, who made a greatshow and who would have given half of their possessions for a singlequartering of the arms of these great lords whom they affected todespise. 

Serge and Cayrol went from group to group; the one with his graceful anddelicate elegance; the other with his good-humor, radiant and elated bythe consciousness of his triumphs. Herzog had just arrived, accompaniedby his daughter, a charming girl of sixteen, to whim Marechal hadoffered his arm. A whispering was heard when Herzog passed. He wasaccustomed to the effect which he produced in public, and quite calmlycongratulated Cayrol. 

Serge had just introduced Micheline to Count Soutzko, a gray-haired oldgentleman of military appearance, whose right sleeve was empty. He wasa veteran of the Polish wars, and an old friend of Prince Panine's, atwhose side he had received the wounds which had so frightfully mutilatedhim. Micheline, smiling, was listening to flattering tales which the oldsoldier was relating about Serge. Cayrol, who had got rid of Herzog, was looking for Jeanne, who had just disappeared in the direction of theterrace. 

The rooms were uncomfortably warm, and many of the visitors had foundtheir way to the terraces. Along the marble veranda, overlooking thelake, chairs had been placed. The ladies, wrapped in their lace scarfs, had formed into groups and were enjoying the delights of the beautifulevening. Bursts of subdued laughter came from behind fans, while thegentlemen talked in whispers. Above all this whispering was heard thedistant sound of the cornet at the peasants' ball. 

Leaning over the balustrade, in a shady corner, far from the noise whichtroubled him and far from the fete which hurt him, Pierre was dreaming. His eyes were fixed on the illuminations in the park, but he did notsee them. He thought of his vanished hopes. Another was beloved byMicheline, and in a few hours he would take her away, triumphantand happy. A great sadness stole over the young man's spirit; he wasdisgusted with life and hated humanity. What was to become of him now?His life was shattered; a heart like his could not love twice, andMicheline's image was too deeply engraven on it for it ever to beeffaced. Of what use was all the trouble he had taken to raise himselfabove others? A worthless fellow had passed that way and Micheline hadyielded to him. Now it was all over!

And Pierre asked himself if he had not taken a wrong view of things, and if it was not the idle and good-for-nothing fellows who were moreprudent than he. To waste his life in superhuman works, to tire his mindin seeking to solve great problems, and to attain old age without othersatisfaction than unproductive honors and mercenary rewards. Those whoonly sought happiness and joy--epicureans who drive away all care, all pain, and only seek to soften their existence, and brighten theirhorizon--were they not true sages? Death comes so quickly! And it iswith astonishment that one perceives when the hour is at hand, that onehas not lived! Then the voice of pride spoke to him: what is a man whoremains useless, and does not leave one trace of his passage through theworld by works or discoveries? And, in a state of fever, Pierre said tohimself:

"I will throw myself heart and soul into science; I will make my namefamous, and I will make that ungrateful child regret me. She willsee the difference between me and him whom she has chosen. She willunderstand that he is nobody, except by her money, whereas she wouldhave been all by me. "

A hand was placed on his shoulder; and Marechal's affectionate voicesaid to him:

"Well! what are you doing here, gesticulating like that?"

Pierre turned round. 

Lost in his thoughts he had not heard his friend approaching. 

"All our guests have arrived, " continued Marechal. "I have only justbeen able to leave them and to come to you. I have been seeking you formore than a quarter of an hour. You are wrong to hide yourself; peoplewill make remarks. Come toward the house; it is as well to show yourselfa little; people might imagine things which they must not imagine. "

"Eh! let them think what they like; what does it matter to me?" saidPierre, sadly. "My life is a blank. "

"Your life may be a blank; but it is your duty not to let any oneperceive it. Imitate the young Spartan, who smiled although the fox, hidden under his cloak, was gnawing his vitals. Let us avoid ridicule, my friend. In society there is nothing that provokes laughter more thana disappointed lover, who rolls his eyes about and looks woe-begone. And, then, you-see, suffering is a human law; the world is an arena, life is a conflict. Material obstacles, moral griefs, all hinder andoverwhelm us. We must go on, though, all the same, and fight. Those whogive in are trodden down! Come, pull yourself together!"

"And for whom should I fight now? A moment ago I was making projects, but I was a fool! All hope and ambition are dead in me. "

"Ambition will return, you may be sure! At present you are sufferingfrom weariness of mind; but your strength will return. As to hope, onemust never despair. "

"What can I expect in the future?"

"What? Why, everything! In this world all sorts of things happen!" saidMarechal, gayly. "Who is to prove that the Princess will not be a widowsoon?"

Pierre could not help laughing and said, "Come, don't talk such nonsense!"

"My dear fellow, " concluded Marechal, "in life it is only nonsense thatis common-sense. Come and smoke a cigar. "

They traversed several groups of people and bent their steps in thedirection of the chateau. The Prince was advancing toward the terrace, with an elegantly dressed and beautiful woman on his arm. Savinien, inthe midst of a circle of dandies, was picking the passers-by to piecesin his easy-going way. Pierre and Marechal came behind these young menwithout being noticed. 

"Who is that hanging on the arm of our dear Prince?" asked a little fatman, girt in a white satin waistcoat, and a spray of white lilac in hisbuttonhole. 

"Eh! Why, Le Brede, my boy, you don't know anything!" cried Savinien ina bantering, jocose tone. 

"Because I don't know that lovely fair woman?" said Le Brede, in apiqued voice. "I don't profess to know the names of all the pretty womenin Paris!"

"In Paris? That woman from Paris? You have not looked at her. Come, openyour eyes. Pure English style, my friend. "

The dandies roared with laughter. They had at once recognized the pureEnglish style. They were not men to be deceived. One of them, a tall, dark fellow, named Du Tremblays, affected an aggrieved air, and said:

"Le Brede, my dear fellow, you make us blush for you!"

The Prince passed, smiling and speaking in a low voice to the beautifulEnglishwoman, who was resting the tips of her white gloved fingers onher cavalier's arm. 

"Who is she?" inquired Le Brede, impatiently. 

"Eh, my dear fellow, it is Lady Harton, a cousin of the Prince. She isextremely rich, and owns a district in London. "

"They say that a year ago she was very kind to Serge Panine, " added DuTremblays, confidentially. 

"Why did he not marry her, then, since she is so rich? He has been quitea year in the market, the dear Prince. "

"She is married. "

"Oh, that is a good reason. But where is her husband?"

"Shut up in a castle in Scotland. Nobody ever sees him. He is out of hismind; and is surrounded by every attention. "

"And a strait-waistcoat! Then why does not this pretty woman get adivorce?"

"The money belongs to the husband. "

"Really!"

Pierre and Marechal had listened, in silence, to this cool and yetterrible conversation. The group of young men dispersed. The twofriends looked at each other. Thus, then, Serge Panine was judged by hiscompanions in pleasure, by the frequenters of the clubs in which hehad spent a part of his existence. The Prince being "in the market" wasobliged to marry a rich woman. He could not marry Lady Harton, so he hadsought Micheline. And the sweet child was the wife of such a man! Andwhat could be done? She loved him!

Madame Desvarennes and Micheline appeared on the terrace. Lady Hartonpointed to the bride with her fan. The Prince, leaving his companion, advanced toward Micheline. 

"One of my English relatives, a Polish lady, married to Lord Harton, wishes to be introduced to you, " said Serge. "Are you agreeable?"

"With all my heart, " replied the young wife, looking lovingly at herhusband. "All who belong to you are dear to me, you know. "

The beautiful Englishwoman approached slowly. 

"The Princess Panine!" said Serge, gravely, introducing Micheline, whobowed gracefully. Then, with a shade of familiarity: "Lady Harton!"continued he, introducing his relative. 

"I am very fond of your husband, Madame, " said the Englishwoman. "I hopeyou will allow me to love you also; and I beg you to grant me the favorof accepting this small remembrance. "

While speaking, she unfastened from her wrist a splendid bracelet withthe inscription, Semper. 

Serge frowned and looked stern. Micheline, lowering her eyes, and awedby the Englishwoman's grandeur, timidly said:

"I accept it, Madame, as a token of friendship. "

"I think I recognize this bracelet, Madame, " observed Serge. 

"Yes; you gave it to me, " replied Lady Harton, quietly. "Semper--I begyour pardon, Madame, we Poles all speak Latin--Semper means 'Always!' Itis a great word. On your wife's arm this bracelet will be well placed. Au revoir, dear Prince. I wish you every happiness. "

And bowing to Micheline with a regal bow, Lady Harton took the arm of atall young man whom she had beckoned, and walked away. 

Micheline, amazed, looked at the bracelet sparkling on her white wrist. Without uttering a word Serge unfastened it, took it off his wife'sarm, and advancing on the terrace, with a rapid movement flung it inthe water. The bracelet gleamed in the night-air and made a brilliantsplash; then the water resumed its tranquillity. Micheline, astonished, looked at Serge, who came toward her, and very humbly said:

"I beg your pardon. "

The young wife did not answer, but her eyes filled with tears; a smilebrightened her lips, and hurriedly taking his arm, she led him into thedrawing-room. 

Dancing was going on there. The young ladies of Pontoise, and the creamof Creil, had come to the fete, bent on not losing such an opportunityof enjoying themselves. Under the watchful eyes of their mothers, who, decked out in grand array, were seated along the walls, they weregamboling, in spite of the stifling heat, with all the impetuosity ofyoung provincials habitually deprived of the pleasures of the ballroom. Crossing the room, Micheline and Serge reached Madame Desvarennes'sboudoir. 

It was delightfully cool in there. Cayrol had taken refuge therewith Jeanne, and Mademoiselle Susanne Herzog. This young girl feltuncomfortable at being a third party with the newly-married couple, and welcomed the arrival of the Prince and Micheline with pleasure. Herfather had left her for a moment in Cayrol's care; but she had not seenhim for more than an hour. 

"Mademoiselle, " said the Prince, gayly, "a little while ago, when Iwas passing through the rooms, I heard these words: 'Loan, discount, liquidation. ' Your father must have been there. Shall I go and seekhim?"

"I should be very grateful, " said the young girl. 

"I will go. "

And turning lightly on his heels, happy to escape Jeanne's looks, Sergereentered the furnace. At once he saw Herzog seated in the corner ofa bay-window with one of the principal stock-brokers of Paris. He wasspeaking. The Prince went straight up to him. 

"Sorry to draw you away from the sweets of conversation, " said he, smiling; "but your daughter is waiting for you, and is anxious at yournot coming. "

"Faith! My daughter, yes. I will come and see you tomorrow, " said he tohis companion. "We will talk over this association: there is much to begained by it. "

The other, a man with a bloated face, and fair Dundreary whiskers, waseager to do business with him. Certainly the affair was good. 

"Oh, my dear Prince, I am happy to be alone with you for a moment!" saidHerzog, with that familiarity which was one of his means of becomingintimate with people. "I was going to compliment you! What a splendidposition you have reached. "

"Yes; I have married a charming woman, " replied the Prince, coldly. 

"And what a fortune!" insisted the financier. "Ah, it is worthy of thelot of a great lord such as you are! Oh, you are like those masterpiecesof art which need a splendidly carved frame! Well, you have your frame, and well gilt too!"

He laughed and seemed pleased at Serge's happiness. He had taken one ofhis hands and was patting it softly between his own. 

"Not a very 'convenient' mother-in-law, for instance, " he went on, good-naturedly; "but you are so charming! Only you could have, coaxedMadame Desvarennes, and you have succeeded. Oh! she likes you, my dearPrince; she told me so only a little while ago. You have won her heart. I don't know how you manage it, but you are irresistible! By the way, Iwas not there when the marriage contract was read, and I, forgot to askCayrol. Under what conditions art you married?"

The Prince looked at Herzog with a look that was hardly friendly. But the financier appeared so indifferent, that Serge could not helpanswering him:

"My wife's fortune is settled on herself. "

"Ah! ah! that is usual in Normandy!" replied Herzog with a grave look. "I was told Madame Desvarennes was a clever woman and she has proved it. And you signed the contract with your eyes shut, my dear Prince. It isperfect, just as a gentleman should do!"

He said this with a good-natured air. Then, suddenly lifting his eyes, and with an ironical smile playing on his lips, he added:

"You are bowled out, my dear fellow, don't you know?"

"Sir!" protested Serge with haughtiness. 

"Don't cry out; it is too late, and would be useless, " replied thefinancier. "Let me explain your position to you. Your hands are tied. You cannot dispose of a sou belonging to your wife without her consent. It is true, you have influence over her, happily for you. Still you mustforesee that she will be guided by her mother. A strong woman, too, themother! Ah, Prince, you have allowed yourself to be done completely. Iwould not have thought it of you. "

Serge, nonplussed for a moment, regained his self-possession, and lookedHerzog in the face:

"I don't know what idea you have formed of me, sir, and I don't knowwhat object you have in speaking thus to me. "

"My interest in you, " interrupted the financier. "You are a charmingfellow: you please me much. With your tastes, it is possible that in abrief time you may be short of money. Come and see me: I will put youinto the way of business. Au revoir, Prince. "

And without giving Serge time to answer him, Herzog reached the boudoirwhere his daughter was waiting with impatience. Behind him came thePrince looking rather troubled. The financier's words had awakenedimportunate ideas in his mind. Was it true that he had been dupedby Madame Desvarennes, and that the latter, while affecting airs ofgreatness and generosity, had tied him like a noodle to her daughter'sapron-string? He made an effort to regain his serenity. 

"Micheline loves me and all will be well, " said he to himself. 

Madame Desvarennes joined the young married people. The rooms wereclearing by degrees. Serge took Cayrol apart. 

"What are you going to do to-night, my dear fellow?

"You know an apartment has been prepared for you here?"

"Yes, I have already thanked Madame Desvarennes, but I mean to go backto Paris. Our little paradise is prepared for us, and I wish to enter itto-night. I have my carriage and horses here. I am taking away my wifepost-haste. "

"That is an elopement, " said Serge; gayly, "quite in the style of theregency!"

"Yes, my dear Prince, that's how we bankers do it, " said Cayrol, laughing. 

Then changing his tone:

"See, I vibrate, I am palpitating. I am hot and cold by turns. Justfancy, I have never loved before; my heart is whole, and I love todistraction!"

Serge instinctively glanced at Jeanne. She was seated, looking sad andtired. 

Madame Desvarennes, between Jeanne and Micheline, had her arms twinedround the two young girls. Regret filled her eyes. The mother feltthat the last moments of her absolute reign were near, and she wascontemplating with supreme adoration these two children who had grownup around her like two fragile and precious flowers. She was saying tothem, "Well, the great day is over. You are both married. You don't belong tome any longer. How I shall miss you! This morning I had two children, and now--"

"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 herface. 

"It is nothing. A little fatigue. "

"And emotion, " added Micheline. "This morning when we entered thechurch, at the sound of the organ, in the midst of flowers, surroundedby all our friends, I felt that I was whiter than my veil. And thecrossing 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 youso. "

"Oh, not mamma, nor Jeanne, nor you, " said the young wife, quickly;"always call me Micheline. It will be less respectful, but it will bemore tender. "

Madame Desvarennes could not resist drawing her daughter once more toher heart. 

"Dear child, " she said with emotion, "you need affection, as flowersneed the sun! But I love you, there. "

She stopped and added:

"We love you. "

And she held out her hand to her son-in-law. Then changing the subject:

"But I am thinking, Cayrol, as you are returning to Paris, you mighttake some orders for me which I will write out. "

"What? Business? Even on my wedding-day?" exclaimed Micheline. 

"Eh! my daughter, we must have flour, " replied the mistress, laughing. "While we are enjoying ourselves Paris eats, and it has a famousappetite. "

Micheline, leaving her mother, went to her husband. 

"Serge, it is not yet late. Suppose we put in an appearance at thework-people's ball? I promised them, and the good folks will be sohappy!"

"As you please. I am awaiting your orders. Let us make ourselvespopular!"

Madame Desvarennes had gone to her room. Carol took the opportunityof telling his coachman to drive round by the park to the door of thelittle conservatory and wait there. Thus, his wife and he would avoidmeeting any one, and would escape the leave-taking of friends and thecuriosity of lockers-on. 

Micheline went up to Jeanne, and said:

"As you are going away quietly, dear, I shall not see you again thisevening. Adieu!"

And with a happy smile, she kissed her. Then taking her husband's armshe led him toward the park. 

CHAPTER X. CAYROL'S DISAPPOINTMENT

Jeanne left alone, watched them as they disappeared with the light andeasy movements of lovers. 

Serge, bending toward Micheline, was speaking tenderly. A rush of bitterfeeling caused Jeanne's heart to swell. She was alone, she, while hewhom she loved-her whole being revolted. Unhappy one! Why did she thinkof this man? Had she the right to do so now? She no longer belonged toherself. Another, who was as kind to her as Serge was ungrateful, washer husband. She thought thus in sincerity of heart. She wished tolove Cayrol. Alas, poor Jeanne! She would load him with attentions andcaresses! And Serge would be jealous, for he could never have forgottenher so soon. 

Her thoughts again turned to him whom she wished to forget. She madean effort, but in vain. Serge was uppermost; he possessed her. She wasafraid. Would she never be able to break off the remembrance? Would hisname be ever on her lips, his face ever before her eyes?

Thank heaven! she was about to leave. Travelling, and the sight ofstrange places other than those where she had lived near Serge, woulddraw her attention from the persecution she suffered. Her husband wasabout to take her away, to defend her. It was his duty, and she wouldhelp him with energy. With all the strength of her will she summonedCayrol. She clung violently to him as a drowning person catches at astraw, with the vigor of despair. 

There was between Jeanne and Cayrol a sympathetic communication. Mentally called by his wife, the husband appeared. 

"Ah! at last!" said she. 

Cayrol, surprised at this welcome, smiled. Jeanne, without noticing, added:

"Well, Monsieur; are we leaving soon?"

The banker's surprise increased. But as this surprise was decidedly anagreeable one he did not protest. 

"In a moment, Jeanne, dear, " he said. 

"Why this delay?" asked the young wife, nervously. 

"You will understand. There are more than twenty carriages before thefront door. Our coachman is driving round, and we will go out by theconservatory door without being seen. "

"Very well; we will wait. "

This delay displeased Jeanne. In the ardor of her resolution, in thefirst warmth of her struggle, she wished at once to put space betweenher and Serge. Unfortunately, Cayrol had thwarted this effort of proudrevolt. She was vexed with him. He, without knowing the motives whichactuated his wife, guessed that something had displeased her. He wishedto change the current of her thoughts. 

"You were marvellously beautiful to-night, " he said, approaching hergallantly. "You were much admired, and I was proud of you. If you hadheard my friends! It was a concert of congratulations: What a fortunatefellow that Cayrol is! He is rich; he has a charming wife! You see, Jeanne, thanks to you, in the eyes of all, my happiness is complete. "

Jeanne frowned, and without answering, shook her head haughtily. Cayrolcontinued, without noticing this forecast of a storm:

"They envy me; and I can understand it! I would not change places withanybody. There, our friend Prince Panine is very happy; he has marrieda woman whom he loves and who adores him. Well, he is not happier than Iam!"

Jeanne rose abruptly, and gave her husband a terrible look. 

"Monsieur!" she cried with rage. 

"I beg your pardon, " said Cayrol, humbly; "I appear ridiculous to you, but my happiness is stronger than I am, and I cannot hide my joy. Youwill see that I can be grateful. I will spend my life in trying toplease you. I have a surprise for you to begin with. "

"What kind of surprise?" asked Jeanne, with indifference. 

Cayrol rubbed his hands with a mysterious air. He was enjoyingbeforehand the pleasant surprise he had in store for his wife. 

"You think we are going to Paris to spend our honeymoon like ordinaryfolk?"

Jeanne started. Cayrol seemed unfortunate in his choice of words. 

"Well, not at all, " continued the banker. "Tomorrow I leave my offices. My customers may say what they like; I will leave my business, and weare off. "

Jeanne showed signs of pleasure. A flash of joy lit up her face. To goaway, that was rest for her!

"And where shall we go?"

"That is the surprise! You know that the Prince and his wife intendtravelling!"

"Yes; but they refused to say where they were going;" interruptedJeanne, with a troubled expression. 

"Not to me. They are going to Switzerland. Well, we shall join themthere. "

Jeanne arose like a startled deer when it hears the sound of a gun. 

"Join them there!" she exclaimed. 

"Yes; to continue the journey together. A party of four; twonewly-married couples. It will be charming. I spoke to Serge on thesubject. He objected at first, but the Princess came to my assistance. And when he saw that his wife and I were agreed, he commenced to laugh, and said: 'You wish it? I consent. Don't say anything more!' It isall very well to talk of love's solitude; in about a fortnight, passedtete-a-tete, Serge will be glad to have us. We will go to Italy to seethe lakes; and there, in a boat, all four, of us will have such pleasanttimes. "

Cayrol might have gone on talking for an hour, but Jeanne was notlistening. She was thinking. Thus all the efforts which she haddecided to make to escape from him whom she loved would be useless. Aninvincible fatality ever brought her toward him whom she was seekingto avoid. And it was her husband who was aiding this inevitableand execrable meeting. A bitter smile played on her lips. There wassomething mournfully comic in this stubbornness of Cayrol's, in throwingher in the way of Serge. 

Cayrol, embarrassed by Jeanne's silence, waited a moment. 

"What is the matter?" he asked. "You are just like the Prince when Ispoke to him on the subject. "

Jeanne turned away abruptly. Cayrol's comparison was too direct. Hisblunders were becoming wearisome. 

The banker, quite discomfited on seeing the effect of his words, continued:

"You object to this journey? If so, I am willing to give it up. "

The young wife was touched by this humble servility. 

"Well, yes, " she said, softly, "I should be grateful to you. "

"I had hoped to please you, " said Cayrol. "It is for me to beg pardonfor having succeeded so badly. Let us remain in Paris. It does notmatter to me what place we are in! Being near to you is all I desire. "

He approached her, and, with beaming eyes, added:

"You are so beautiful, Jeanne; and I have loved you so long a time!"

She moved away, full of a vague dread. Cayrol, very excitedly, put hercloak round her shoulders, and looking toward the door, added:

"The carriage is there, we can go now. "

Jeanne, much troubled, did not rise. 

"Wait another minute, " said she. 

Cayrol smiled constrainedly:

"A little while ago you were hurrying me off. "

It was true. But a sudden change had come over Jeanne. Her energy hadgiven way. She felt very weary. The idea of going away with Cayrol, and of being alone with him in the carriage frightened her. She lookedvaguely at her husband, and saw, in a sort of mist, this great fat man, with a protruding shirt-front, rolls of red flesh on his neck above hiscollar, long fat ears which only needed gold ear-rings, and his greathairy hands, on the finger of one of which shone the new wedding-ring. Then, in a rapid vision, she beheld the refined profile, the beautifulblue eyes, and the long, fair mustache of Serge. A profound sadness cameover the young woman, and tears rushed to her eyes. 

"What is the matter with you? You are crying!" exclaimed Cayrol, anxiously. 

"It is nothing; my nerves are shaken. I am thinking of this chateauwhich bears my name. Here I spent my youth, and here my father died. Athousand ties bind me to this dwelling, and I cannot leave it withoutbeing overcome. "

"Another home awaits you, luxuriantly adorned, " murmured Cayrol, "andworthy of receiving you. It is there you will live henceforth with me, happy through me, and belonging to me. "

Then, ardently supplicating her, he added:

"Let us go, Jeanne!"

He tried to take her in his arms, but the young wife disengaged herself. 

"Leave me alone!" she said, moving away. 

Cayrol looked at her in amazement. 

"What is it? You are trembling and frightened!"

He tried to jest:

"Am I so very terrible, then? Or is it the idea of leaving here thattroubles you so much? If so, why did you not tell me sooner? I canunderstand things. Let us remain here for a few days, or as long asyou like. I have arranged my affairs so as to be at liberty. Our littleparadise can wait for us. "

He spoke pleasantly, but with an undercurrent of anxiety. 

Jeanne came slowly to him, and calmly taking his hand, said:

"You are very good. "

"I am not making any efforts to be so, " retorted Cayrol, smiling. "Whatdo I ask? That you may be happy and satisfied. "

"Well, do you wish to please me?" asked the young wife. 

"Yes!" exclaimed Cayrol, warmly, "tell me how. "

"Madame Desvarennes will be very lonely tomorrow when her daughter willbe gone. She will need consoling--"

"Ah, ah, " said Cayrol, thinking that he understood, "and you wouldlike--"

"I would like to remain some time with her. You could come every day andsee us. I would be very grateful to you, and would love you very much!"

"But--but--but--!" exclaimed Cayrol, much confounded, "you cannot meanwhat you say, Jeanne! What, my dear? You wish me to return alone toParis to-night? What would my servants say? You would expose me toridicule!"

Poor Cayrol made a piteous face. Jeanne looked at him as she had neverlooked before. It made his blood boil. 

"Would you be so very ridiculous for having been delicate and tender?"

"I don't see what tenderness has to do with it, " cried Cayrol; "on thecontrary! But I love you. You don't seem to think it!"

"Prove it, " replied Jeanne, more provokingly. 

This time Cayrol lost all patience. 

"Is it in leaving you that I shall prove it? Really, Jeanne, I amdisposed to be kind and to humor your whims, but on condition that theyare reasonable. You seem to be making fun of me! If I give way on suchimportant points on the day of our marriage, whither will you lead me?No; no! You are my wife. The wife must follow her husband; the law saysso!"

"Is it by law only that you wish to keep me? Have you forgotten what Itold you when you made me an offer of marriage? It is my hand only whichI give you. "

"And I answered you, that it would be my aim to gain your heart. Well, but give me the means. Come, dear, " said the banker in a resolute tone, "you take me for a child. I am not so simple as that! I know what thisresistance means; charming modesty so long as it is not everlasting. "

Jeanne turned away without answering. Her face had changed itsexpression; it was hard and determined. 

"Really, " continued Cayrol, "you would make a saint lose patience. Come, answer me, what does this attitude mean?"

The young wife remained silent. She felt she could not argue any longer, and seeing no way out of her trouble, felt quite discouraged. Still shewould not yield. She shuddered at the very idea of belonging to thisman; she had never thought of the issue of this brutal and vulgaradventure. Now that she realized it, she felt terribly disgusted. 

Cayrol anxiously watched the increasing anguish depicted on his wife'sface. He had a presentiment that she was hiding something from him, andthe thought nearly choked him. And, with this suspicion, his ingenuitycame to his aid. He approached Jeanne, and said, affectionately:

"Come, dear child, we are misleading one another; I in speaking tooharshly, you in refusing to understand me. Forget that I am yourhusband; see in me only a friend and open your heart; your resistancehides a mystery. You have had some grief or have been deceived. "

Jeanne, softened, said, in a low tone:

"Don't speak to me like that; leave me. "

"No, " resumed Cayrol, quietly, "we are beginning life; there must be nomisunderstanding. Be frank, and you will find me indulgent. Come, younggirls are often romantic. They picture an ideal; they fall in love withsome one who does not return their love, which is sometimes even unknownto him who is their hero. Then, suddenly, they have to return to areality. They find themselves face to face with a husband who is notthe expected Romeo, but who is a good man, devoted, loving, and ready toheal the wounds he has not made. They are afraid of this husband; theymistrust him, and will not follow him. It is wrong, because it isnear him, in honorable and right existence, that they find peace andforgetfulness. "

Cayrol's heart was torn by anxiety, and with trembling voice he tried toread the effect of his words on Jeanne's features. She had turned away. Cayrol bent toward her and said:

"You don't answer me. "

And as she still remained silent, he took her hand and forced her tolook at him. He saw that her face was covered with tears. He shuddered, and then flew into a terrible passion. 

"You are crying! It is true then? You have loved?"

Jeanne rose with a bound; she saw her imprudence. She understood thetrap he had laid; her cheeks burned. Drying her tears, she turned towardCayrol, and cried:

"Who has said so?"

"You cannot deceive me, " replied the banker, violently. "I saw it inyour looks. Now, I want to know the man's name!"

Jeanne looked him straight in the face. 

"Never!" she said. 

"Ah, that is an avowal!" exclaimed Cayrol. 

"You have deceived me unworthily by your pretended kindness, "interrupted Jeanne, proudly, "I will not say anything more. "

Cayrol flew at her--the churl reappeared. He muttered a fearful oath, and seizing her by the arm, shouted:

"Take care! Don't play with me. Speak, I insist, or--" and he shook herbrutally. 

Jeanne, indignant, screamed and tore herself away from him. 

"Leave me, " she said, "you fill me with horror!"

The husband, beside himself, pale as death and trembling convulsively, could not utter a word, and was about to rush upon her when the dooropened, and Madame Desvarennes appeared, holding in her hand the letterswhich she had written for Cayrol to take back to Paris. Jeanne uttered acry of joy, and with a bound threw herself into the arms of her who hadbeen a mother to her. 

CHAPTER XI. CONFESSION

Madame Desvarennes understood the situation at a glance. She beheldCayrol livid, tottering, and excited. She felt Jeanne trembling on herbreast; she saw something serious had occurred. She calmed herself andput on a cold manner to enable her the better to suppress any resistancethat they might offer. 

"What is the matter?" she asked, looking severely at Cayrol. 

"Something quite unexpected, " replied the banker, laughing nervously. "Madame refuses to follow me. "

"And for what reason?" she asked. 

"She dare not speak!" Cayrol resumed, whose excitement increased as hespoke. "It appears she has in her heart an unhappy love! And as I do notresemble the dreamed-of type, Madame has repugnances. But you understandthe affair is not going to end there. It is not usual to come and sayto a husband, twelve hours after marriage, 'Sir, I am very sorry, but Ilove somebody else!' It would be too convenient. I shall not lend myselfto these whims. "

"Cayrol, oblige me by speaking in a lower tone, " said MadameDesvarennes, quietly. "There is some misunderstanding between you andthis child. "

The husband shrugged his broad shoulders. 

"A misunderstanding? Faith! I think so! You have a delicacy of languagewhich pleases me! A misunderstanding! Say rather a shameful deception!But I want to know the gentleman's name. She will have to speak. I amnot a scented, educated gentleman. I am a peasant, and if I have to--"

"Enough, " said Madame Desvarennes, sharply tapping with the tips ofher fingers Cayrol's great fist which he held menacingly like a butcherabout to strike. Then, taking him quietly aside toward the window, sheadded:

"You are a fool to go on like this! Go to my room for a moment. To you, now, she will not say anything; to me she will confide all and we shallknow what to do. "

Cayrol's face brightened. 

"You are right, " he said. "Yes, as ever, you are right. You must excuserile, I do not know how to talk to women. Rebuke her and put a littlesense in her head. But don't leave her; she is fit to commit any folly. "

Madame Desvarennes smiled. 

"Be easy, " she answered. 

And making a sign to Cayrol, who was leaving the room, she returned toJeanne. 

"Come, my child, compose yourself. We are alone and you will tell mewhat happened. Among women we understand each other. Come, you werefrightened, eh?"

Jeanne was one petrified, immovable, and dumb, she fixed her eyes on aflower which was hanging from a vase. This red flower fascinated her. She could not take her eyes off it. Within her a persistent thoughtrecurred: that of her irremediable misfortune. Madame Desvarennes lookedat her for a moment; then, gently touching her shoulder, resumed;

"Won't you answer me? Have you not confidence in me? Have I not broughtyou up? And if you are not born of me, have not the tenderness and careI have lavished upon you made me your real mother?"

Jeanne did not answer, but her eyes filled with tears;

"You know that I love you, " continued the mistress. "Come, come to myarms as you used to do when you were little and were suffering. Placeyour head thereon my heart and let your tears flow. I see they arechoking you. "

Jeanne could no longer resist, and falling on her knees beside MadameDesvarennes, she buried her face in the silky and scented folds of herdress like a frightened bird that flies to the nest and hides itselfunder the wings of its mother. 

This great and hopeless grief was to the mistress a certain proof thatCayrol was right. Jeanne had loved and still loved another man thanher husband. But why had she not said anything, and why had she allowedherself to be married to the banker? She had resisted, she rememberednow. She had struggled, and the refusals they had put down to pride theymust now attribute to passion. 

She did not wish to be separated from him whom she loved. Hence thestruggle that had ended in her abandoning her hand to Cayrol, perhapsin a moment of despair and discouragement. But why had he whom she lovednot married her? What obstacle had arisen between him and the younggirl? Jeanne, so beautiful, and dowered by Madame Desvarennes, who thencould have hesitated to ask her hand?

Perhaps he whom Jeanne loved was unworthy of her? No! She would not havechosen him. Perhaps he was not free to marry? Yes, it must be that. Some married man, perhaps! A scoundrel who did not mind breaking a younggirl's heart! Where had she met him? In society at her house in the RueSaint-Dominique, perhaps! Who could tell? He very likely still continuedto come there. At the thought Madame Desvarennes grew angry. She wishedto know the name of the man so that she might have an explanation withhim, and tell him what she thought of his base conduct. The gentlemanshould have respectable, well-educated girls to trifle with, should he?And he risked nothing! He should be shown to the door with all honorsdue to his shameful conduct. 

Jeanne was still weeping silently at Madame Desvarennes's knee. Thelatter raised her head gently and wiped away the tears with her lacepocket-handkerchief. 

"Come, my child! all this deluge means nothing. You must make up yourmind. I can understand your hiding anything from your husband, but notfrom me! What is your lover's name?"

This question so simply put, threw a faint light on Jeanne's troubledbrain. She saw the danger she was running. To speak before MadameDesvarennes! To tell the name of him who had been false to her! Toher! Was it possible? In a moment she understood that she was about todestroy Micheline and Serge. Her conscience revolted and she wouldnot. She raised herself and looking at Madame Desvarennes with stillfrightened eyes, "For pity's sake, forget my tears! Don't believe what my husbandhas told you. Never seek to know. Remain ignorant as you are on thesubject!"

"Then he whom you love is related to me, as: you wish to hide his nameeven from me, " said Madame Desvarennes with instinctive anguish. 

She was silent. Her eyes became fixed. They looked without seeing. Shewas thinking. 

"I beseech you, " cried Jeanne, madly placing her hands before MadameDesvarennes's face as if to check her scrutiny. 

"If I had a son, " continued the mistress, "I would believe--" Suddenlyshe ceased speaking; she became pale, and bending toward Jeanne, shelooked into her very soul. 

"Is it--" she began. 

"No! no!" interrupted Jeanne, terrified at seeing that the mistress hadfound out the truth. 

"You deny it before I have pronounced the name?" said Madame Desvarennesin a loud voice. "You read it then on my lips? Unhappy girl! The manwhom you love is the husband of my daughter!"

My daughter! The accent with which Madame Desvarennes pronounced theword "my" was full of tragical power. It revealed the mother capableof doing anything to defend the happiness of the child whom sheadored. Serge had calculated well. Between Jeanne and Micheline, MadameDesvarennes would not hesitate. She would have allowed the world tocrumble away to make of its ruins a shelter where her daughter would bejoyous and happy. 

Jeanne had fallen back overwhelmed. The mistress raised her roughly. She had no more consideration for her. It was necessary that she shouldspeak. Jeanne was the sole witness, and if the truth had to be got bymain force she should be made to speak it. 

"Ah, forgive me!" moaned the young girl. 

"It is not a question of that! In one word, answer me: Does he loveyou?"

"Do I know?"

"Did he tell you he did?"

"Yes. "

"And he has married Micheline!" exclaimed Madame Desvarennes, with afearful gesture. "I distrusted him. Why did I not obey my instinct?"

And she began walking about like a lioness in a cage. Then, suddenlystopping and placing herself before Jeanne, she continued:

"You must help me to save Micheline!"

She thought only of her own flesh and blood. Without hesitation, unconsciously, she abandoned the other--the child of adoption. Sheclaimed the safety of her daughter as a debt. 

"What has she to fear?" asked Jeanne, bitterly. "She triumphs, as she ishis wife. "

"If he were to abandon her, " said the mother with anguish. Then, reflecting: "Still, he has sworn to me that he loved her. "

"He lied!" cried Jeanne, with rage. "He wanted Micheline for herfortune!"

"But why that?" inquired Madame Desvarennes, menacingly. "Is she notpretty enough to have pleased him? Do you think that you are the onlyone to be loved?"

"If I had been rich he would have married me!", replied Jeanne, exasperated. 

She had risen in revolt. They were treading too heavily on her. With aferocious cry of triumph; she added:

"The night he used his influence with me to get me to marry Cayrol, heassured me so on his word of honor!"

"Honor!" ironically repeated Madame Desvarennes, overwhelmed. "Howhe has deceived us all! But what can I do? What course can I take? Aseparation? Micheline would not consent. She loves him. "

And, in an outburst of fury, she cried:

"Is it possible that that stupid girl loves that worthless dandy? Andshe has my blood in her veins! If she knew the truth she would die!"

"Am I dead?" asked Jeanne, gloomily. 

"You have an energetic nature, " retorted the mistress, compassionately;"but she is so weak, so gentle! Ah! Jeanne, think what I have been toyou; raise some insurmountable barrier between yourself and Serge!

"Go back to your husband. You would not go with him a little while ago. It was folly. If you separate from Cayrol, you will not be able to keepaway Serge, and you will take my daughter's husband from her!"

"Ah! you think only of her! Her, always! She above all!" cried Jeanne, with rage. "But me, I exist, I count, I have the right to be protected, of being happy! And you wish me to sacrifice myself, to give myself upto this man, whom I do not love, and who terrifies me?"

This time the question was plainly put. Madame Desvarennes becameherself. She straightened her figure, and in her commanding voice whoseauthority no one resisted, said:

"What then? You wish to be separated from him? To regain your liberty atthe price of scandal? And what liberty? You will be repulsed, disdained. Believe me, impose silence on your heart and listen to your reason. Yourhusband is a good, loyal man. If you cannot love him, he will commandyour respect. In marrying him, you have entered into engagements towardhim. Fulfil them; it is your duty. "

Jeanne felt overpowered and vanquished. "But what will my life be?" shegroaned. 

"That of an honest woman, " replied Madame Desvarennes, with truegrandeur. "Be a wife; God will make you a mother, and you will besaved. "

Jeanne bowed herself at these words. She no longer felt in them theselfishness of the mother. What the mistress now said was sincere andtrue. It was no longer her agitated and alarmed heart that inspired her;it was her conscience, calm and sincere. 

"Very well; I will obey you, " said the young wife, simply. "Kiss methen, mother. "

She bent her brow, and Madame Desvarennes let tears of gratitude andadmiration fall on it. Then Jeanne went of her own accord to the roomdoor. 

"Come, Monsieur, " called she to Cayrol. 

The husband, grown cooler while waiting, and troubled at the length ofthe interview, showed his anxious face on the threshold. He saw MadameDesvarennes grave, and Jeanne collected. He dared not speak. 

"Cayrol, everything is explained, " said the mistress. "You have nothingto fear from him whom you suspected. He is separated from Jeanneforever, And; besides, nothing has passed between him and her who isyour wife that could arouse your jealousy. I will not tell you the nameof this man now. But if perchance he by some impossibility reappearedand threatened your happiness, I would myself--you understand, me?--point him out to you!"

Cayrol remained thinking for, a moment; then addressing MadameDesvarennes, replied:

"It is well. I have confidence in you. "

Then turning toward Jeanne, he added:

"Forgive me and let everything be forgotten. "

The mistress's face beamed with joy, as she followed their departingfigures with her eyes, and murmured:

"Brave hearts!"

Then, changing her expression:

"Now for the other one!" exclaimed she. 

And she went out on to the terrace. 

CHAPTER XII. THE FETE

The air was mild, the night clear and bright. Cayrol's carriage rolledrapidly along the broad avenue of the park shadowed by tall trees, the lanterns throwing, as they passed, their quivering light on thethickets. The rumbling carriages took the last guests to the railwaystation. It was past midnight. A nightingale began singing his song oflove to the stars. 

Madame Desvarennes mechanically stopped to listen. A sense of sorrowcame over this mother who was a prey to the most cruel mental anguish. She thought that she could have been very happy on that splendid night, if her heart had been full of quietude and serenity. Her two daughterswere married; her last task was accomplished. She ought to havenothing to do but enjoy life after her own fashioning, and be calm andsatisfied. Instead of that, here were fear and dissimulation takingpossession of her mind; and an ardent, pitiless struggle beginningagainst the man who had deceived her daughter and lied to her. The barkwhich carried her fortune, on reaching port, had caught fire, and it wasnecessary to begin laboring again amid cares and pains. 

A dull rage filled her heart. To have so surely built up the edificeof her happiness, to have embellished it every hour, and then to see anintruder audaciously taking possession of it, and making his despoticand hateful authority prevail! And what could she do against this newmaster? Nothing. He was marvellously protected by Micheline's madlove for him. To strike Serge would be to wound Micheline, surelyand mortally. So this scoundrel could laugh at her and dare her withimpunity!

What must she do? Take him aside and tell him that she knew of hisdisloyal conduct, and tell him of her contempt and hatred for him? Andafter that? What would be the consequence of this outburst of violence?The Prince, using his power over Micheline, would separate the daughterfrom the mother. And Madame Desvarennes would be alone in her corner, abandoned like a poor dog, and would die of despair and anger. Whatother course then? She must dissemble, mask her face with indifference, if possible with tenderness, and undertake the difficult task ofseparating Micheline from the man whom she adored. It was quite a featof strategy to plan. To bring out the husband's faults and to make hiserrors known, and give her the opportunity of proving his worthlessness. In a word, to make the young wife understand that she had married anelegant manikin, unworthy of her love. 

It would be an easy matter to lay snares for Serge. He was a gambler. She could let him have ready money to satisfy his passion. Once in theclutches of the demon of play, he would neglect his wife, and the mothermight regain a portion of the ground she had lost. Micheline'sfortune once broken into, she would interpose between her daughter andson-in-law. She would make him pull up, and holding him tightly by herpurse strings, would lead him whither she liked. 

Already in fancy she saw her authority regained, and her daughter, hertreasure, her life, true mistress of the situation, grateful to herfor having saved her. And then, she thought, a baby will come, and ifMicheline is really my daughter, she will adore the little thing, andthe blind love which she has given to her husband will be diminished byso much. 

Serge did not know what an adversary he had against him in hismother-in-law. It was a bad thing to cross the mistress when businessmatters were concerned, but now that her daughter's happiness was atstake! A smile came to her lips. A firm resolution from that hour mustguide her, and the struggle between her son-in-law and herself couldonly end by the crushing of one of them. 

In the distance the music from the work-people's ball was heard. MadameDesvarennes mechanically bent her steps toward the tent under which theheavy bounds of the dancers reechoed. Every now and then large shadowsappeared on the canvas. A joyful clamor issued from the ballroom. Loudlaughter resounded, mingled with piercing cries of tickled women. 

The voice of the master of the ceremonies could be heard jocose andsolemn: "La poule! Advance! Set to partners!" Then the stamping of heavyshoes on the badly planed floor, and, above all, the melancholy soundsof the clarionet and the shrill notes of the cornet were audible. 

At the entrance of the ballroom, surrounded by tables and stools, twobarrels of wine on stands presented their wooden taps, ready for thosewho wanted to quench their thirst. A large red mark under eachbarrel showed that the hands of the drinkers wire no longer steady. Acake-seller had taken up his place at the other side, and was kneading alast batch of paste, while his apprentice was ringing a bell which hungover the iron cooking-stove to attract customers. There was an odor ofrancid butter, spilled wine, and paraffin oil. 

Adjoining the ballroom, a merry-go-round; which had been the delightof the village urchins all day, appealed for custom by the aid of abarrel-organ on which a woman in a white bodice was playing the waltzfrom 'Les Cloches de Corneville'. 

The animation of this fete, in the midst of which Madame Desvarennessuddenly appeared, was a happy diversion from the serious thoughts whichbeset her. She remembered that Serge and Micheline must be there. She came from under the shadow of the avenue into the full light. Onrecognizing her, all the workpeople, who were seated, rose. She wasreally mistress and lady of the place. And then she had fed these peoplesince morning. With a sign she bade them be seated, and walking quicklytoward the dancing-room, lifted the red and white cotton curtain whichhung over the entrance. 

There, in a space of a hundred square yards or so, about a hundred andfifty people were sitting or standing. At the end, on a stage, werethe musicians, each with a bottle of wine at his feet, from which theyrefreshed themselves during the intervals. An impalpable dust, raisedby the feet of the dancers, filled the air charged with acrid odors. The women in light dresses and bareheaded, and the men arrayed in theirSunday clothes, gave themselves up with frantic ardor to their favoritepleasure. 

Ranged in double rows, vis-a-vis, they were waiting with impatience forthe music to strike up for the last figure. Near the orchestra, Sergewas dancing with the Mayor's daughter opposite Micheline, whose partnerwas the mayor himself. An air of joyful gravity lit up the municipalofficer's face. He was enjoying the honor which the Princess had donehim. His pretty young daughter, dressed, in her confirmation dress, which had been lengthened with a muslin flounce, a rose in her hair, andher hands encased in straw-colored one-button kid gloves, hardly daredraise her eyes to the Prince, and with burning cheeks, answered inmonosyllables the few remarks Serge felt forced to address to her. 

The orchestra bellowed, the floor shook; the two lines of dancers hadadvanced in a body. Madame Desvarennes, leaning against the door-post, followed with her eyes her daughter, whose light footsteps contrastedstrangely with the heavy tread of the women around her. The mayor, eagerand respectful, followed her, making efforts to keep up with her withouttreading on her long train. It was, "Excuse me, Madame la Princesse. If Madame la Princesse will do me thehonor to give me her hand, it is our turn to cross. "

They had just crossed. Serge suddenly found himself facing hismother-in-law. His face lit up, and he uttered a joyful exclamation. Micheline raised her eyes, and following her husband's look, perceivedher mother. Then it was a double joy. With a mischievous wink, Sergecalled Madame Desvarennes's attention to the mayor's solemn appearanceas he was galloping with Micheline, also the comical positions of therustics. 

Micheline was smiling. She was enjoying herself. All this homelygayety, of which she was the cause, made her feel happy. She enjoyed thepleasure of those around her. With her compassionate eyes she thankedher mother in the distance for having prepared this fete in honor of hermarriage. The clarionet, violin, and cornet sounded a last modulation, then the final cadence put an end to the bounds of the dances. Each tookhis lady to her place--the mayor with pompous gait, Serge with as muchgrace as if he had been at an ambassador's ball and was leading a younglady of highest rank. 

Madame Desvarennes was suddenly surrounded; cheers resounded, the bandstruck up the Marseillaise. 

"Let us escape, " said Serge, "because these good people will thinknothing of carrying us in triumph. "

And leading away his mother-in-law and his wife, he left the ballroomfollowed by cheers. 

Outside they all three walked in silence. The night air was delightfulafter coming out of that furnace. The cheering had ceased, and theorchestra was playing a polka. Micheline had taken her husband's arm. 

They went along slowly, and close together. Not a word was exchanged;they all three seemed to be listening within themselves. When theyreached the house, they went up the steps leading into the greenhouse, which served also as a boudoir to Madame Desvarennes. 

The atmosphere was still warm and scented, the lamps still burning. Theguests had left; Micheline looked round. The remembrance of this happyevening, which had been the crowning of her happiness, filled her heartwith emotion. Turning toward her mother with a radiant face, she cried:

"Ah! mamma! I am so happy, " and threw her arms around her. 

Serge started at this cry. Two tears came to his eyes, and looking alittle pale, he stretched out to Madame Desvarennes his hands, which shefelt trembling in hers, and said:

"Thank you. "

Madame Desvarennes gazed at him for a moment. She did not see theshadow of a wicked thought on his brow. He was sincerely affected, trulygrateful. The idea occurred to her that Jeanne had deceived her, or haddeceived herself, and that Serge had not loved her. A feeling of relieftook possession of her. But distrust had unfortunately entered her mind. She put away that flattering hope. And giving her son-in-law such alook, which, had he been less moved, he would have understood, shemurmured, "We shall see. "

BOOK 3. 

CHAPTER XIII. 

THE FIRST BREAK

The first two months of this union were truly enchanting. Serge andMicheline never left each other. After an absence of eight days they hadreturned to Paris with Madame Desvarennes, and the hitherto dull mansionin the Rue Saint-Dominique was filled with joyful bustle. The splendidstables, formerly too large for the mistress's three horses, were nowinsufficient for the service of the Prince. There were eight splendidcarriage-horses, a pair of charming ponies--bought especially forMicheline's use, but which the young wife had not been able to make upher mind to drive herself--four saddle-horses, upon which every morningabout eight o'clock, when the freshness of night had perfumed the Boisde Boulogne, the young people took their ride round the lake. 

A bright sun made the sheet of water sparkle between its borders ofdark fir-trees; the flesh air played in Micheline's veil, and the tawnyleather of the saddles creaked. Those were happy days for Micheline, whowas delighted at having Serge near her, attentive to her every want, andcontrolling his thoroughbred English horse to her gentle pace. Every nowand then his mount would wheel about and rear in revolt, she followinghim with fond looks, proud of the elegant cavalier who could subduewithout apparent effort, by the mere pressure of his thighs, thatimpetuous steed. 

Then she would give her horse a touch with the whip, and off she wouldgo at a gallop, feeling happy with the wind blowing in her face, andhe whom she loved by her side to smile on and encourage her. Then theywould scamper along; the dog with his thin body almost touching theground, racing and frightening the rabbits, which shot across the roadswift as bullets. Out of breath by the violent ride, Micheline wouldstop, and pat the neck of her lovely chestnut horse. Slowly the youngpeople would return to the Rue Saint-Dominique, and, on arriving in thecourtyard, there was such a pawing of feet as brought the clerks tothe windows, hiding behind the curtains. Tired with healthy exercise, Micheline would go smiling to the office where her mother was hard atwork, and say:

"Here we are, mamma!"

The mistress would rise and kiss her daughter beaming with freshness. Then they would go up to breakfast. 

Madame Desvarennes's doubts were lulled to rest. She saw her daughterhappy. Her son-in-law was in every respect cordial and charmingtoward her. Cayrol and his wife had scarcely been in Paris since theirmarriage. The banker had joined Herzog in his great scheme of the"Credit, " and was travelling all over Europe establishing offices andsecuring openings. Jeanne accompanied him. They were then in Greece. The young wife's letters to her adopted mother breathed calmness andsatisfaction. She highly praised her husband's kindness to her, and saidit was unequalled. 

No allusion was made to that evening of their marriage, when, escapingfrom Cayrol's wrath, she had thrown herself in Madame Desvarennes'sarms, and had allowed her secret to be found out. The mistress mightwell think then that the thought which at times still troubled her mindwas a remembrance of a bad dream. 

What contributed especially to make her feel secure was Jeanne'sabsence. If the young woman had been near Serge, Madame Desvarennesmight have trembled. But Micheline's beautiful rival was far away, andSerge seemed very much in love with his wife. 

Everything was for the best. The formidable projects which MadameDesvarennes had formed in the heat of her passion had not been earnedout. Serge had as yet not given Madame Desvarennes cause for realdispleasure. Certainly he was spending money foolishly, but then hiswife was so rich!

He had put his household on an extraordinary footing. Everything thatmost refined luxury had invented he had introduced as a matter ofcourse, and for everyday use. He entertained magnificently several timesa week. And Madame Desvarennes, from her apartments, for she would neverappear at these grand receptions, heard the noise of these doings. Thiswoman, modest and simple in her ideas, whose luxury had alwaysbeen artistic, wondered that they could spend so much on frivolousentertainments. But Micheline was queen of these sumptuous ceremonies. She came in full dress to be admired by her mother, before going downto receive her guests, and the mistress had not courage to offer anyremonstrances as to expense when she saw her daughter so brilliant andcontented. 

They played cards very much. The great colony of foreigners who cameevery week to Panine's receptions brought with them their immoderatepassion for cards, and he was only too willing to give way to it. Thesegentlemen, among them all, almost without taking off their white kidgloves, would win or lose between forty and fifty thousand francs atbouillotte, just to give them an appetite before going to the club tofinish the night at baccarat. 

Meanwhile the ladies, with their graceful toilettes displayed on the lowsoft chairs, talked of dress behind their fans, or listened to the songsof a professional singer, while young men whispered soft nothings intheir ears. 

It was rumored that the Prince lost heavily. It was not to be wonderedat; he was so happy in love! Madame Desvarennes, who used every means ofgaining information on the subject, even to the gossip of the servants, heard that the sums were enormous. No doubt they were exaggerated, butthe fact remained the same. The Prince was losing. 

Madame Desvarennes could not resist the inclination of finding outwhether Micheline knew what was going on, and one morning when the youngwife came down to see her mother, dressed in a lovely pink gown, themistress, while teasing her daughter, said, carelessly:

"It seems your husband lost heavily last night. "

Micheline looked astonished at Madame Desvarennes, and in a quiet voicereplied:

"A good host may not win from his guests; it would look as if heinvited them to rob them. Losses at cards are included in the costs of areception. "

Madame Desvarennes thought that her daughter had become a very grandlady, and had soon acquired expanded ideas. But she dared not sayanything more. She dreaded a quarrel with her daughter, and would havesacrificed everything to retain her cajoling ways. 

She threw herself into her work with renewed vigor. 

"If the Prince spends large sums, " she said to herself, "I will earnlarger ones. There can be no hole dug deep enough by him that I shallnot be able, to fill up. "

And she made the money come in at the door so that her son-in-law mightthrow it out of the window. 

One fine day these great people who visited at the mansion in the RueSaint-Dominique hastened away to the country. September had arrived, bringing with it the shooting season. The Prince and Micheline settledthemselves at Cernay, not as in the first days of their marriage aslovers who sought quietude, but as people sure of their happiness, whowished to make a great show. They took all the carriages with them, andthere was nothing but bustle and movement. The four keepers, dressed inthe Prince's livery, came daily for orders as to shooting arrangements. And every week shoals of visitors arrived, brought from the station inlarge breaks drawn by four horses. 

The princely dwelling was in its full splendor. There was a continualgoing and coming of fashionable worldlings. From top to bottom of thecastle was a constant rustling of silk dresses; groups of pretty women, coming downstairs with peals of merry laughter and singing snatches fromthe last opera. In the spacious hall they played billiards and othergames, while one of the gentlemen performed on the large organ. Therewas a strange mixture of freedom and strictness. The smoke of Russiancigarettes mingled with the scent of opoponax. An elegant confusionwhich ended about six o'clock in a general flight, when the sportsmencame home, and the guests went to their rooms. An hour afterward allthese people met in the large drawing-room; the ladies in low-bodiedevening dresses; the gentlemen in dress-coats and white satinwaistcoats, with a sprig of mignonette and a white rose in theirbuttonholes. After dinner, they danced in the drawing-rooms, where a madwaltz would even restore energy to the gentlemen tired out by six hoursspent in the field. 

Madame Desvarennes did not join in that wild existence. She had remainedin Paris, attentive to business. On Saturdays she came down by the fiveo'clock train and regularly returned on the Monday morning. Her presencechecked their wild gayety a little. Her black dress was like a blotamong the brocades and satins. Her severe gravity, that of a woman whopays and sees the money going too fast, was like a reproach, silent butexplicit, to that gay and thoughtless throng of idlers, solely taken upby their pleasure. 

The servants made fun of her. One day the Prince's valet, who thoughthimself a clever fellow, said before all the other servants thatMother Damper had arrived. Of course they all roared with laughter andexclaimed:

"Bother the old woman! Why does she come and worry us? She had farbetter stop in the office and earn money; that's all she's good for!"

The disdain which the servants learned from their master grew rapidly. So much so that one Monday morning, toward nine o'clock, MadameDesvarennes came down to the courtyard, expecting to find the carriagewhich generally took her to the station. It was the second coachman'sduty to drive her, and she did not see him. Thinking that he was alittle late, she walked to the stable-yard. There, instead of thevictoria which usually took her, she saw a large mail-coach to whichtwo grooms were harnessing the Prince's four bays. The head coachman, anEnglishman, dressed like a gentleman, with a stand-up collar, and arose in his buttonhole, stood watching the operations with an air ofimportance. 

Madame Desvarennes went straight to him. He had seen her coming, out ofthe corner of his eye, without disturbing himself. 

"How is it that the carriage is not ready to take me to the station?"asked the mistress. 

"I don't know, Madame, " answered this personage, condescendingly, without taking his hat off. 

"But where is the coachman who generally drives me?"

"I don't know. If Madame would like to see in the stables--"

And with a careless gesture, the Englishman pointed out to MadameDesvarennes the magnificent buildings at the end of the courtyard. 

The blood rose to the mistress's cheeks; she gave the coachman such alook that he moved away a little. Then glancing at her watch, she said, coldly:

"I have only a quarter of an hour before the train leaves, but here arehorses that ought to go well. Jump on the box, my man, you shall driveme. "

The Englishman shook his head. 

"Those horses are not for service; they are only for pleasure, " heanswered. "I drive the Prince. I don't mind driving the Princess, but Iam not here to drive you, Madame. "

And with an insolent gesture, setting his hat firmly on his head, heturned his back upon the mistress. At the same moment, a sharp strokefrom a light cane made his hat roll on the pavement. And as theEnglishman turned round, red with rage, he found himself face to facewith the Prince, whose approach neither Madame Desvarennes nor he hadheard. 

Serge, in an elegant morning suit, was going round his stables when hehad been attracted by this discussion. The Englishman, uneasy, sought toframe an excuse. 

"Hold your tongue!" exclaimed the Prince, sharply, "and go and wait myorders. "

And turning toward the mistress:

"Since this man refuses to drive you, I shall have the pleasure oftaking you to the station myself, " he said, with a charming smile. 

And as Madame Desvarennes remonstrated, "Oh! I can drive four-in-hand, " he added. "For once in my life thattalent will have been of some use to me. Pray jump in. "

And opening the door of the mail-coach he handed her into the vastcarriage. Then, climbing with one bound to the box, he gathered thereins and, cigar in mouth, with all the coolness of an old coachman, hestarted the horses in the presence of all the grooms, and made a perfectsemicircle on the gravel of the courtyard. 

The incident was repeated favorably for Serge. It was agreed that he hadbehaved like a true nobleman. Micheline was proud of it, and saw in thisact of deference to her mother a proof of his love for her. As to themistress, she understood the advantage this clever manoeuvre gave to thePrince. At the same time she felt the great distance which henceforthseparated her from the world in which her daughter lived. 

The insolence of that servant was a revelation to her. They despisedher. The Prince's coachman would not condescend to drive a plebeian likeher. She paid the wages of these servants to no purpose. Her plebeianorigin and business habits were a vice. They submitted to her; they didnot respect her. 

Although her son-in-law and daughter were perfect toward her in theirbehavior, she became gloomy and dull, and but seldom went now to Cernay. She felt in the way, and uncomfortable. The smiling and superficialpoliteness of the visitors irritated her nerves. These people were toowell bred to be rude toward Panine's mother-in-law, but she felt thattheir politeness was forced. Under their affected nicety she detectedirony. She began to hate them all. 

Serge, sovereign lord of Cernay, was really happy. Every moment heexperienced new pleasure in gratifying his taste for luxury. His lovefor horses grew more and more. He gave orders to have a model stud-houseerected in the park amid the splendid meadows watered by the Oise; andbought stallions and breeding mares from celebrated English breeders. Hecontemplated starting a racing stable. 

One day when Madame Desvarennes arrived at Cernay, she was surprised tosee the greensward bordering the woods marked out with white stakes. Sheasked inquiringly what these stakes meant? Micheline answered in an easytone:

"Ah! you saw them? That is the track for training. We made Mademoisellede Cernay gallop there to-day. She's a level-going filly with whichSerge hopes to win the next Poule des Produits. "

The mistress was amazed. A child who had been brought up so simply, inspite of her large fortune, a little commoner, speaking of level-goingfillies and the Poule des Produits! What a change had come over herand what incredible influence this frivolous, vain Panine had over thatyoung and right-minded girl! And that in a few months! What would it belater? He would succeed in imparting to her his tastes and would mouldher to his whims, and the young modest girl whom he had received fromthe mother would become a horsey and fast woman. 

Was it possible that Micheline could be happy in that hollow and emptylife? The love of her husband satisfied her. His love was all sheasked for, all else was indifferent to her. Thus of her mother, theimpassioned toiler, was born the passionate lover! All the fervencywhich the mother had given to business, Micheline had given to love. 

Moreover, Serge behaved irreproachably. One must do him that justice. Not even an appearance accused him. He was faithful, unlikely as thatmay seem in a man of his kind; he never left his wife. He had hardlyever gone out without her; they were a couple of turtle-doves. They werelaughed at. 

"The Princess has tied a string round Serge's foot, " was said by some ofSerge's former woman friends!

It was something to be sure of her daughter's happiness. That happinesswas dearly, bought; but as the proverb says:

"Money troubles are not mortal!"

And, besides, it was evident that the Prince did not keep account ofhis money; his hand was always open. And never did a great lord domore honor to his fortune. Panine, in marrying Micheline, had found themistress's cash-box at his disposal. 

This prodigious cash-box had seemed to him inexhaustible, and he haddrawn on it like a Prince in the Arabian Nights on the treasure of thegenii. 

Perhaps it would suffice to let him see that he was spending the capitalas well as the income to make him alter his line of conduct. At allevents, the moment was not yet opportune, and, besides, the amount wasnot yet large enough. Cry out about some hundred thousand francs! MadameDesvarennes would be thought a miser and would be covered with shame. She must wait. 

And, shut up in her office in the Rue Saint-Dominique with Marechal, whoacted as her confidant, she worked with heart and soul full of passionand anger, making money. It was fine to witness the duel betweenthese two beings: the one useful, the other useless; one sacrificingeverything to work, the other everything to pleasure. 

Toward the end of October, the weather at Cernay became unsettled, andMicheline complained of the cold. Country life so pleased Serge that heturned a deaf ear to her complaints. But lost in that large house, theautumn winds rustling through the trees, whose leaves were tinted withyellow, Micheline became sad, and the Prince understood that it was timeto go back to Paris. 

The town seemed deserted to Serge. Still, returning to his splendidapartments was a great satisfaction and pleasure to him. Everythingappeared new. He reviewed the hangings, the expensive furniture, thepaintings and rare objects. He was charmed. It was really of wonderfulbeauty, and the cage seemed worthy of the bird. For several eveningshe remained quietly at home with Micheline, in the little silver-graydrawing-room that was his favorite room. He looked through albums, too, while his wife played at her piano quietly or sang. 

They retired early and came down late. Then he had become a gourmand. Hespent hours in arranging menus and inventing unknown dishes about whichhe consulted his chef, a cook of note. 

He rode in the Bois in the course of the day, but did not meet anyone there; for of every two carriages one was a hackney coach with aworn-out sleepy horse, his head hanging between his knees, going theround of the lake. He ceased going to the Bois, and went out on foot inthe Champs-Elysees. He crossed the Pont de la Concorde, and walked upand down the avenues near the Cirque. 

He was wearied. Life had never appeared so monotonous to him. Formerlyhe had at least the preoccupations of the future. He asked himself howhe could alter the sad condition in which he vegetated! Shut up inthis happy existence, without a care or a cross, he grew weary like aprisoner in his cell. He longed for the unforeseen; his wife irritatedhim, she was of too equable a temperament. She always met him with thesame smile on her lips. And then happiness agreed with her too well; shewas growing stout. 

One day, on the Boulevard des Italiens, Serge met an old friend, theBaron de Prefont, a hardened 'roue'. He had not seen him since hismarriage. It was a pleasure to him. They had a thousand things to say toeach other. And walking along, they came to the Rue Royale. 

"Come to the club, " said Prefont, taking Serge by the arm. 

The Prince, having nothing else to do, allowed himself to be led away, and went. He felt a strange pleasure in those large rooms of the club, the Grand Cercle, with their glaring furniture. The common easy-chairs, covered with dark leather, seemed delightful. He did not notice thewell-worn carpets burned here and there by the hot cigar-ash; the strongsmell of tobacco, impregnated in the curtains, did not make him feelqualmish. He was away from home, and was satisfied with anything for achange. He had been domesticated long enough. 

One morning, taking up the newspaper, a name caught Madame Desvarennes'seye-that of the Prince. She read:

"The golden book of the Grand Cercle has just had another illustriousname inscribed in it. The Prince Panine was admitted yesterday, proposedby the Baron de Prefont and the Duc de Bligny. "

These few lines made Madame Desvarennes's blood boil. Her ears tingledas if all the bells of Saint-Etienne-du-Mont had been rung together. In a rapid vision, she saw misfortune coming. Her son-in-law, that borngambler, at the Grand Cercle! No more smiles for Micheline; henceforthshe had a terrible rival--the devouring love of play. 

Then Madame Desvarennes reflected. The husband's deserting his firesidewould be salvation for herself. The door by which he went out, wouldserve as an entrance for her. The plan which she had conceived at Cernaythat terrible night of the marriage when Jeanne had confided in her, remained for her to execute. By opening her purse widely to the Prince, she would help him in his vice. And she would infallibly succeed inseparating Serge and Micheline. 

But the mistress checked herself. Lend her hands to the destruction ofher son-in-law in a fit of fierce maternal egoism? Was it not unworthyof her? How many tears would the Prince's errors cost her whom shewished to regain at all price? And then would she always be there tocompensate by her devoted affection the bitterly regretted estrangementfrom the husband? She would, in dying, leave the household disunited. 

She was horrified at what she had for an instant dreamed of doing. Andinstead of helping the Prince on to destruction, she determined todo all in her power to keep him in the path of honor. That resolutionformed, Madame Desvarennes was satisfied. She felt superior to Serge, and to a mind like hers the thought was strengthening. 

The admission to the Grand Cercle gave Serge a powerful element ofinterest in life: He had to manoeuvre to obtain his liberty. His firstevenings spent from home troubled Micheline deeply. The young wife wasjealous when she saw her husband going out. She feared a rival, andtrembled for her love. Serge's mysterious conduct caused her intolerabletorture. She dared not say anything to her mother, and remainedperfectly quiet on the subject before her husband. She soughtdiscreetly, listened to the least word that might throw any light on thematter. 

One day she found an ivory counter, bearing the stamp of the GrandCercle, in her husband's dressing-room. It was in the Rue Royale thenthat her husband spent his evenings. This discovery was a great reliefto her. It was not very wrong to go there, and if the Prince did goand smoke a few cigars and have a game at bouillotte, it was not a verygreat crime. The return of his usual friends to Paris and the resumptionof their receptions would bring him home again. 

Serge now left Micheline about ten o'clock in the evening regularly andarrived at the club about eleven. High play did not commence until aftermidnight. Then he seated himself at the gaming-table with all theardor of a professional gambler. His face changed its expression. Whenwinning, it was animated with an expression of awful joy; when losing, he looked as hard as a stone, his features contracted, and his eyes werefull of gloomy fire. He bit his mustache convulsively. Moreover, alwayssilent, winning or losing with superb indifference. 

He lost. His bad luck had followed him. At the club his losses were nolonger limited. There was always some one willing to take a hand, anduntil dawn he played, wasting his life and energies to satisfy hisinsane love of gambling. 

One morning, Marechal entered Madame Desvarennes's private office, holding a little square piece of paper. Without speaking a word, heplaced it on the desk. The mistress took it, read what was written uponit in shaky handwriting, and suddenly becoming purple, rose. The paperbore these simple words:

"Received from Monsieur Salignon the sum of one hundred thousand francs. Serge Panine. "

"Who brought this paper?" asked Madame Desvarennes, crushing it betweenher fingers. 

"The waiter who attends the card-room at the club. "

"The waiter?" cried Madame Desvarennes, astonished. 

"Oh, he is a sort of banker, " said Marechal. "These gentlemen apply tohim when they run short of money. The Prince must have found himself inthat predicament. Still he has just received the rents for the propertyin the Rue de Rivoli. "

"The rents!" grumbled Madame Desvarennes, with an energetic movement. "The rents! A drop of water in a river! You don't know that he is a manto lose the hundred thousand francs which they claim, in one night. "

The mistress paced up and down the room. She suddenly came to astandstill. "If I don't stop him, the rogue will sell the feather-bedfrom under my daughter! But he shall have a little of my mind! He hasprovoked me long enough. Pay it! I'll take my money's worth out of him. "

And in a second, Madame Desvarennes was in the Prince's room. 

Serge, after a delicate breakfast, was smoking and dozing on thesmoking-room sofa. The night had been a heavy one for him. He had wontwo hundred and fifty thousand francs from Ibrahim Bey, then he had lostall, besides five thousand louis advanced by the obliging Salignon. Hehad told the waiter to come to the Rue Saint-Dominique, and by mistakethe man had gone to the office. 

The sudden opening of the smoking-room door roused Serge. He unclosedhis eyes and looked very much astonished at seeing Madame Desvarennesappear. Pale, frowning, and holding the accusing paper in her hand, sheangrily inquired:

"Do you recognize that?" and placed the receipt which he had signed, before him, as he slowly rose. 

Serge seized it quickly, and then looking coldly at his mother-in-law, said:

"How did this paper come into your hands?"

"It has just been brought to my cashier. A hundred thousand francs!Faith! You are going ahead! Do you know how many bushels of corn must beground to earn that?"

"I beg your pardon, Madame, " said the Prince, interrupting MadameDesvarennes. "I don't suppose you came here to give me a lesson incommercial statistics. This paper was presented to your cashier bymistake. I was expecting it, and here is the money ready to pay it. Asyou have been good enough to do so, pray refund yourself. "

And taking a bundle of bank-notes from a cabinet, the Prince handed themto the astonished mistress. 

"But, " she sought to say, very much put out by this unexpected answer, "where did you get this money from? You must have inconveniencedyourself. "

"I beg your pardon, " said the Prince, quietly, "that only concernsmyself. Be good enough to see whether the amount is there, " added hewith a smile. "I reckon so badly that it is possible I may have made amistake to your disadvantage. "

Madame Desvarennes pushed away the hand which presented the bank-notes, and shook her head gravely:

"Keep this money, " she said; "unfortunately you will need it. You haveentered on a very dangerous path, which grieves me very much. I wouldwillingly give ten times the amount, at once, to be sure that you wouldnever touch another card. "

"Madame!" said the Prince with impatience. 

"Oh! I know what I am risking by speaking thus. It weighs so heavilyon my heart. I must give vent to it or I shall choke. You are spendingmoney like a man who does not know what it is to earn it. And if youcontinue--"

Madame Desvarennes raised her eyes and looked at the Prince. She saw himso pale with suppressed rage that she dared not say another word. Sheread deadly hatred in the young man's look. Frightened at what she hadjust been saying, she stepped back, and went quickly toward the door. 

"Take this money, Madame, " said Serge, in a trembling voice. "Take it, or all is over between us forever. "

And, seizing the notes, he put them by force in Madame Desvarennes'shands. Then tearing up with rage the paper that had been the cause ofthis painful scene, he threw the pieces in the fireplace. 

Deeply affected, Madame Desvarennes descended the stairs which she hada few minutes before gone up with so much resolution. She had apresentiment that an irreparable rupture had just taken place betweenherself and her son-in-law. She had ruffled Panine's pride. Shefelt that he would never forgive her. She went to her room sad andthoughtful. Life was becoming gloomy for this poor woman. Her confidencein herself had disappeared. She hesitated now, and was irresolute whenshe had to take a decision. She no longer went straight to the point bythe shortest road. Her sonorous voice was softened. She was no longerthe same willing energetic woman who feared no obstacles. She had knowndefeat. 

The attitude of her daughter had changed toward her. It seemed asif Micheline wished to absolve herself of all complicity with MadameDesvarennes. She kept away to prove to her husband that if her motherhad displeased him in any way, she had nothing to do with it. Thisbehavior grieved her mother, who felt that Serge was working secretlyto turn Micheline against her. And the mad passion of the young wife forhim whom she recognized as her master did not allow the mother to doubtwhich side she would take if ever she had to choose between husband andmother. 

One day Micheline came down to see her mother. It was more than a monthsince she had visited her. In a moment Madame Desvarennes saw that shehad something of an embarrassing nature to speak of. To begin with shewas more affectionate than usual, seeming to wish with the honey ofher kisses to sweeten the bitter cross which the mistress was doomed tobear. Then she hesitated. She fidgeted about the room humming. At lastshe said that the doctor had come at the request of Serge, who was mostanxious about his wife's health. And that excellent Doctor Rigaud, whohad known her from a child, had found her suffering from great weakness. He had ordered change of air. 

At these words Madame Desvarennes raised her head and gave her daughtera terrible look:

"Come, no nonsense! Speak the truth! He is taking you away!"

"But, mamma, " said Micheline, disconcerted at this interruption, "Iassure you, you are mistaken. Anxiety for my health alone guides myhusband. "

"Your husband!" broke forth Madame Desvarennes. "Your husband! Ah, there; go away! Because if you stop here, I shall not be able to controlmyself, and shall say things about him that you will not forgive ina hurry! As you are ill, you are right to have change of air. I shallremain here, without you, fastened to my chain, earning money for youwhile you are far, away. Go along!"

And seizing her daughter by the arm with convulsive strength, she pushedher roughly; for the first time in her life, repeating, in a low tone:

"Go away! Leave me alone!"

Micheline suffered herself to be put outside the room, and went to herown apartments astonished and frightened. The young wife had hardly leftthe room when Madame Desvarennes suffered the reaction of the emotionshe had just felt. Her nerves were unstrung, and falling on a chair sheremained immovable and humbled. Was it possible that her daughter, heradored child, would abandon her to obey the grudges of her husband? No, Micheline, when back in her room, would remember that she was carryingaway all the joy of the house, and that it was cruel to deprive hermother of her only happiness in life. 

Slightly reassured, she went down to the office. As she reached thelanding, she saw the Prince's servants carrying up trunks belonging totheir master to be packed. She felt sick at heart. She understood thatthis project had been discussed and settled beforehand. It seemed to herthat all was over; that her daughter was going away forever, and thatshe would never see her again. She thought of going to beseech Serge andask him what sum he would take in exchange for Micheline's liberty;but the haughty and sarcastic face of the Prince forcibly putting thebank-notes in her hands, passed before her, and she guessed that shewould not obtain anything. Cast down and despairing, she entered heroffice and set to work. 

The next day, by the evening express, the Prince and Princess leftfor Nice with all their household, and the mansion in the RueSaint-Dominique remained silent and deserted. 

CHAPTER XIV. A SUDDEN JOURNEY

At the end of the Promenade des Anglais, on the pleasant road borderedwith tamarind-trees, stands, amid a grove of cork-oaks and eucalypti, a charming white villa with pink shutters. A Russian lady, the CountessWoreseff, had it built five years ago, and occupied it one winter. Then, tired of the monotonous noise of the waves beating on the terrace andthe brightness of the calm blue sky, she longed for the mists of hernative country, and suddenly started for St. Petersburg, leaving thatcharming residence to be let. 

It was there, amid rhododendrons and strawberry-trees in full bloom, that Micheline and Serge had taken up their abode. Until that daythe Princess had scarcely travelled. Her mother, always occupied incommercial pursuits, had never left Paris. Micheline had remained withher. During this long journey, accomplished in most luxurious style, shehad behaved like a child astonished at everything, and pleased at theleast thing. With her face close to the window she saw through thetransparent darkness of a lovely winter's night, villages and forestsgliding past like phantoms. Afar off, in the depths of the country, shecaught sight of a light glimmering, and she loved to picture a familygathered by the fire, the children asleep and the mother working in thesilence. 

Children! She often thought of them, and never without a sigh of regretrising to her lips. She had been married for some months, and her dreamsof becoming a mother had not been realized. How happy she would havebeen to have a baby, with fair hair, to fondle and kiss! Then the ideaof a child reminded her of her own mother. She thought of the deep loveone must feel for a child. And the image of the mistress, sad and alone, in the large house of the Rue Saint-Dominique, came to her mind. A vagueremorse seized her heart. She felt she had behaved badly. She said toherself: "If, to punish me, Heaven will not grant me a child!" Shewept, and soon her grief and trouble vanished with her tears. Sleepoverpowered her, and when she awoke it was broad daylight and they werein Provence. 

From that moment everything was dazzling. The arrival at Marseilles;the journey along the coast, the approach to Nice, were all matters ofecstacy to Micheline. But it was when the carriage, which was waitingfor 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 thescene 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 thedistance the mountaintops covered with snow, and tinged with pink underthe brilliant rays of the sun. All this vigorous and slightly wildnature surprised the Parisienne. It was a new experience. Dazzled bythe light and intoxicated with the perfumes, a sort of languor came overher. She soon recovered and became quite strong--something altogethernew for her, and she felt thoroughly happy. 

The life of the Prince and the Princess became at Nice what it had beenin Paris during the early days of their marriage. Visitors flocked totheir house. All that the colony could reckon of well-known Parisiansand foreigners of high repute presented themselves at the villa. Thefetes recommenced. They gave receptions three times a week; the otherevenings Serge went to the Cercle. 

This absorbing life had gone on for two months. It was the beginningof February, and already nature was assuming a new appearance underthe influence of spring. One evening, three people--two gentlemen and alady--stepped out of a carriage at the villa gates, and found themselvesface to face with a traveller who had come on foot. Two exclamationsbroke out simultaneously. 

"Marechal!" "Monsieur Savinien!"

"You! at Nice? And by what miracle?"

"A miracle which makes you travel fifteen leagues an hour in exchangefor a hundred and thirty-three francs first-class, and is called theMarseilles express!"

"I beg your pardon, my dear friend. I have not introduced you toMonsieur and Mademoiselle Herzog. "

"I have already had the honor of meeting Mademoiselle Herzog at MadameDesvarennes's, " said Marechal, bowing to the young girl, withoutappearing to notice the father. 

"You were going to the villa?" asked Savinien. "We, too, were going. Buthow is my aunt? When did you leave her?"

"I have not left her. "

"What's that you say?"

"I say that she is here. "

Savinien let his arms drop in profound consternation to show howdifficult it was for him to believe what was going on. Then, in a fainttreble voice, he said:

"My aunt! At Nice! Promenade des Anglais! That's something morewonderful than the telephone and phonograph! If you had told me that thePantheon had landed one fine night on the banks of the Paillon, I shouldnot be more astonished. I thought Madame Desvarennes was as deeplyrooted in Paris as the Colonne Vendome! But tell me, what is the objectof this journey?"

"A freak. "

"Which manifested itself--"

"Yesterday morning at breakfast. Pierre Delarue, who is going tofinish his business in Algeria, and then settle in France, came to say'Good-by' to Madame Desvarennes. A letter arrived from the Princess. She commenced reading it, then all at once she exclaimed 'Cayrol and hiswife arrived at Nice two days ago!' Pierre and I were astonished at thetone in which she uttered these words. She was lost in thought for afew moments, then she said to Pierre: 'You are leaving tonight forMarseilles? Well, I shall go with you. You will accompany me to Nice. 'And turning toward me, she added: 'Marechal, pack up your portmanteau. Ishall take you with me. "'

While speaking, they had walked across the garden, and reached the stepsleading to the villa. 

"Nothing is easier than to explain this sudden journey, " remarkedMademoiselle Herzog. "On learning that Monsieur and Madame Cayrol wereat Nice with the Princess, Madame Desvarennes must have felt howvery lonely she was in Paris. She had a longing to be near them, andstarted. "

Herzog listened attentively, and seemed to be seeking the connectionwhich should exist between the arrival of the Cayrols and the departureof Madame Desvarennes. 

"The funniest thing to me is Marechal taking a holiday, " observedSavinien. "They are still at dinner, " he added, entering thedrawing-room, through the great doors of which sounds of voices andrattling of plates were heard. 

"Well, let us wait for them; we are in agreeable company, " said Herzog, turning toward Marechal, who only answered by a cold bow. 

"What are you going to do here, Marechal?" inquired Savinien. "You willbe awfully bored. "

"Why? Once in a way I am going to enjoy myself and be a swell. You willteach me, Monsieur Savinien. It cannot be very difficult. It is onlynecessary to wear a dove-colored coat like you, a gardenia in mybuttonhole like Monsieur Le Bride, frizzled hair like Monsieur duTremblay, and to assail the bank at Monaco. "

"Like all these gentlemen, " said Suzanne, gayly, "you are a gamblerthen?"

"I have never touched a card. "

"But then you ought to have great good luck, " said the young girl. 

Herzog had come up to them. 

"Will you go partners?" he asked of Marechal. "We will divide thewinnings. "

"You are too kind, " replied Marechal, dryly, turning away. 

He could not get used to Herzog's familiarity, and there was somethingin the man which displeased him greatly. There was, he thought, apolice-court atmosphere about him. 

Suzanne, on the contrary, interested him. The simple, lively, and frankyoung girl attracted him, and he liked to talk with her. On severaloccasions, at Madame Desvarennes's, he had been her partner. There wasthrough this a certain intimacy between them which he could not extendto the father. 

Herzog had that faculty, fortunately for him, of never appearingoffended at what was said to him. He took Savinien's arm in a familiarmanner and asked: "Have you noticed that the Prince has looked verypreoccupied for the last few days?"

"I don't wonder at it, " replied Savinien. "He has been very unlucky atcards. It is all very well for his wife, my charming cousin, to be rich, but if he is going on like that it won't last long!"

The two men withdrew to the window. 

Suzanne went up to Marechal. She had resumed her thoughtful air. Hesaw her advancing, and, guessing what she was going to say, feltuncomfortable at having to tell an untruth if he did not wish to hurther feelings by brutal frankness. 

"Monsieur Marechal, " she began, "how is it that you are always so coldand formal with my father?"

"My dear young lady, there is a great difference between your father andme. I keep my place, that's all. "

The young girl shook her head sadly. 

"It is not that; you are amiable and ever friendly with me--"

"You are a woman, and the least politeness--"

"No! My father must have hurt your feelings unwittingly; for he is verygood. I have asked him, and he did not seem to understand what I meant. But my questions drew his attention to you. He thinks highly of youand would like to see you filling a position more in harmony with yourmerit. You know that Monsieur Cayrol and my father have just launched atremendous undertaking?"

"The 'Credit European'?"

"Yes. They will have offices in all the commercial centres of Europeancommerce. Would you like the management of one of these branches?"

"I, Mademoiselle?" cried Marechal, astonished, and already askinghimself what interest Herzog could have in making him leave the house ofDesvarennes. 

"The enterprise is colossal, " continued Suzanne, "and frightens me attimes. Is it necessary to be so rich? I would like my father to retirefrom these enormous speculations into which he has thrown himself, bodyand soul. I have simple tastes. My father wishes to make a tremendousfortune for me, he says. All he undertakes is for me, I know. It seemsto me that he runs a great risk. That is why I am talking to you. I amvery superstitious, and I fancy if you were with us it would bring usluck. "

Suzanne, while speaking, had leaned toward Marechal. Her face reflectedthe seriousness of her thoughts. Her lovely eyes implored. The youngman asked himself how this charming girl could belong to that horribleHerzog. 

"Believe me that I am deeply touched, Mademoiselle, by the favor youhave done me, " said he, with emotion. "I owe it solely to your kindness, I know; but I do not belong to myself. I am bound to Madame Desvarennesby stronger ties than those of interest--those of gratitude. "

"You refuse?" she cried, painfully. 

"I must. "

"The position you fill is humble. "

"I was very glad to accept it at a time when my daily bread was notcertain. "

"You have been reduced, " said the young girl, with trembling voice, "tosuch--"

"Wretchedness. Yes, Mademoiselle, my outset in life was hard. I amwithout relations. Mother Marechal, a kind fruiterer of the Rue Pavee auMarais, found me one morning by the curbstone, rolled in a number of theConstitutionnel, like an old pair of boots. The good woman took me home, brought me up and sent me to college. I must tell you that I was verysuccessful and gained a scholarship. I won all the prizes. Yes, and Ihad to sell my gilt-edged books from the Lycee Charlemagne in the daysof distress. I was eighteen when my benefactress, Mother Marechal, died. I was without help or succor. I tried to get along by myself. Afterten years of struggling and privations I felt physical and moral vigorgiving way. I looked around me and saw those who overcame obstacles werestronger than I. I felt that I was doomed not to make way in the world, not being one of those who could command, so I resigned myself to obey. I fill a humble position as you know, but one which satisfies my wants. I am without ambition. A little philosophical, I observe all that goeson around me. I live happily like Diogenes in his tub. "

"You are a wise man, " resumed Suzanne. "I, too, am a philosopher, and Ilive amid surroundings which do not please me. I, unfortunately, lostmy mother when I was very young, and although my father is very kind, hehas been obliged to neglect me a little. I see around me people who aremillionaires or who aspire to be. I am doomed to receive the attentionsof such men as Le Bride and Du Tremblay--empty-headed coxcombs, whocourt my money, and to whom I am not a woman, but a sack of ducatstrimmed with lace. "

"These gentlemen are the modern Argonauts. They are in search of theGolden Fleece, " observed Marechal. 

"The Argonauts!" cried Suzanne, laughing. "You are right. I shall nevercall them anything else. "

"Oh, they will not understand you!" said Marechal, gayly. "I don't thinkthey know much of mythology. "

"Well, you see I am not very happy in the bosom of riches, " continuedthe young girl. "Do not abandon me. Come and talk with me sometimes. Youwill not chatter trivialities. It will be a change from the others. "

And, nodding pleasantly to Marechal, Mademoiselle Herzog joined herfather, who was gleaning details about the house of Desvarennes fromSavinien. 

The secretary remained silent for a moment. 

"Strange girl!" he murmured. "What a pity she has such a father. "

The door of the room in which Monsieur and Mademoiselle Herzog, Marechaland Savinien were, opened, and Madame Desvarennes entered, followed byher daughter, Cayrol, Serge and Pierre. The room, at the extreme end ofthe villa, was square, surrounded on three sides by a gallery shut inby glass and stocked with greenhouse plants. Lofty archways, half veiledwith draperies, led to the gallery. This room had been the favorite oneof Countess Woreseff. She had furnished it in Oriental style, with lowseats and large divans, inviting one to rest and dream during the heatof the day. In the centre of the apartment was a large ottoman, themiddle of which formed a flower-stand. Steps led down from the galleryto the terrace whence there was a most charming view of sea and land. 

On seeing his aunt enter, Savinien rushed forward and seized both herhands. Madame Desvarennes's arrival was an element of interest in hisunoccupied life. The dandy guessed at some mysterious business andthought it possible that he might get to know it. With open ears andprying eyes, he sought the meaning of the least words. 

"If you knew, my dear aunt, how surprised I am to see you here, " heexclaimed in his hypocritical way. 

"Not more so than I am to find myself here, " said she, with a smile. "But, bah! I have slipped my traces for a week. "

"And what are you going to do here?" continued Savinien. 

"What everybody does. By-the-bye, what do they do?" asked MadameDesvarennes, with vivacity. 

"That depends, " answered the Prince. "There are two distinct populationshere. On the one hand, those who take care of themselves; on the other, those who enjoy themselves. For the former there is the constitutionalevery morning in the sun, with slow measured steps on the Promenade desAnglais. For the latter there are excursions, races, regattas. The firsteconomize their life like misers; the second waste it like prodigals. Then night comes on, and the air grows cold. Those who take care ofthemselves go home, those who amuse themselves go out. The first puton dressing-gowns; the second put on ball-dresses. Here, the house isquiet, lit up by a night-light; there, the rooms sparkle with light, andresound with the noise of music and dancing. Here they cough, there theylaugh. Infusion on the one hand, punch on the other. In fact, everywhereand always, a contrast. Nice is at once the saddest and the gayest town. One dies of over-enjoyment, and one amuses one's self at the risk ofdying. "

"A sojourn here is very dangerous, then?"

"Oh! aunt, not so dangerous, nor, above all, so amusing as thePrince says. We are a set of jolly fellows, who kill time between thedining-room of the hotel, pigeon-shooting, and the Cercle, which is notso very amusing after all. "

"The dining-room is bearable, " said Marechal, "but pigeon-shooting mustin time become--"

"We put some interest into the game. "

"How so?"

"Oh! It is very simple: a gentleman with a gun in his hand stands beforethe boxes which contain the pigeons. You say to me: 'I bet fifty louisthat the bird will fall. ' I answer, 'Done. ' The gentleman calls out, 'Pull;' the box opens, the pigeon flies, the shot follows. The birdfalls or does not fall. I lose or win fifty louis. "

"Most interesting!" exclaimed Mademoiselle Herzog. 

"Pshaw!" said Savinien with ironical indifference, "it takes the placeof 'trente et quarante, ' and is better than 'odd or even' on the numbersof the cabs which pass. "

"And what do the pigeons say to that?" asked Pierre, seriously. 

"They are not consulted, " said Serge, gayly. 

"Then there are races and regattas, " continued Savinien. 

"In which case you bet on the horses?" interrupted Marechal. 

"Or on the boats. "

"In fact, betting is applied to all circumstances of life?"

"Exactly; and to crown all, we have the Cercle, where we go in theevening. Baccarat triumphs there. It is not very varied either: Ahundred louis? Done--Five. I draw. There are some people who draw atfive. Nine, I show up, I win or I lose, and the game continues. "

"And that amid the glare of gas and the smoke of tobacco, " saidMarechal, "when the nights are so splendid and the orange-trees smell sosweetly. What a strange existence!"

"An existence for idiots, Marechal, " sighed Savinien, "that I, a man ofbusiness, must submit to, through my aunt's domineering ways! You knownow how men of pleasure spend their lives, my friend, and you mightwrite a substantial resume entitled, 'The Fool's Breviary. ' I am sure itwould sell well. "

Madame Desvarennes, who had heard the last words, was no longerlistening. She was lost in a deep reverie. She was much altered sincegrief and trouble had come upon her; her face was worn, her templeshollow, her chin was more prominent. Her eyes had sunk into her head, and were surrounded by dark rims. 

Serge, leaning against the wall near the window, was observing her. Hewas wondering with secret anxiety what had brought Madame Desvarennesso suddenly to his house after a separation of two months, during whichtime she had scarcely written to Micheline. Was the question of money tobe resumed? Since the morning Madame had been smiling, calm and pleasedlike a schoolgirl home for her holidays. This was the first time shehad allowed a sad expression to rest on her face. Her gayety was feignedthen. 

A look crossing his made him start. Jeanne had just turned her eyestoward him. For a second they met his own. Serge could not helpshuddering. Jeanne was calling his attention to Madame Desvarennes; she, too, was observing her. Was it on their account she had come to Nice?Had their secret fallen into her hands? He resolved to find out. 

Jeanne had turned away her eyes from him. He could feast his on her now. She had become more beautiful. The tone of her complexion had becomewarmer. Her figure had developed. Serge longed to call her his own. Fora moment his hands trembled; his throat was dry, his heart seemed tostop beating. 

He tried to shake off this attraction, and walked to the centre ofthe room. At the same time visitors were announced. Le Bride, withhis inseparable friend, Du Tremblay, escorting Lady Harton, Serge'sbeautiful cousin, who had caused Micheline some anxiety on the dayof her marriage, but whom she no longer feared; then the Prince andPrincess Odescalchi, Venetian nobles, followed by Monsieur ClementSouverain, a young Belgian, starter of the Nice races, a great pigeonshot, and a mad leader of cotillons. 

"Oh, dear me! my lady, all in black?" said Micheline, pointing to thetight-fitting black satin worn by the English beauty. 

"Yes, my dear Princess; mourning, " replied Lady Harton, with a vigorousshake of the hands. "Ball-room mourning--one of my best partners;gentlemen, you know Harry Tornwall?"

"Countess Alberti's cavalier?" added Serge. "Well?"

"Well! he has just killed himself. "

A concert of exclamations arose in the drawing-room, and the visitorssuddenly surrounded her. 

"What! did you not know? It was the sole topic of conversation at Monacoto-day. Poor Tornwall, being completely cleared out, went during thenight to the park belonging to the villa occupied by Countess Alberti, and blew his brains out under her window. "

"How dreadful!" exclaimed Micheline. 

"It was very bad taste on your countryman's part, " observed Serge. 

"The Countess was furious, and said that Tornwall's coming to herhouse to kill himself proved clearly to her that he did not know how tobehave. "

"Do you wish to prevent those who are cleared out from blowing out theirbrains?" inquired Cayrol. "Compel the pawnbrokers of Monaco to lend alouis on all pistols. "

"Well, " retorted young Monsieur Souverain, "when the louis is lost theplayers will still be able to hang themselves. "

"Yes, " concluded Marechal, "then at any rate the rope will bring luck toothers. "

"Gentlemen, do you know that what you have been relating to us is verydoleful?" said Suzanne Herzog. "Suppose, to vary our impressions, youwere to ask us to waltz?"

"Yes, on the terrace, " said Le Brede, warmly. "A curtain of orange-treeswill protect us from the vulgar gaze. "

"Oh! Mademoiselle, what a dream!" sighed Du Tremblay, approachingSuzanne. "Waltzing with you! By moonlight. "

"Yes, friend Pierrot!" sang Suzanne, bursting into a laugh. 

Already the piano, vigorously attacked by Pierre, desirous of makinghimself useful since he could not be agreeable, was heard in the nextroom. Serge had slowly approached Jeanne. 

"Will you do me the favor of dancing with me?" he asked, softly. 

The young woman started; her cheeks became pale, and in a sharp tone sheanswered:

"Why don't you ask your wife?"

Serge smiled. 

"You or nobody. "

Jeanne raised her eyes boldly, and looking at him in the face, said, defiantly:

"Well, then, nobody!"

And, rising, she took the arm of Cayrol, who was advancing toward her. 

The Prince remained motionless for a moment, following them with hiseyes. Then, seeing his wife alone with Madame Desvarennes, he went outon the terrace. Already the couples were dancing on the polished marble. Joyful bursts of laughter rose in the perfumed air that sweet Marchnight. A deep sorrow came over Serge; an intense disgust with allthings. The sea sparkled, lit up by the moon. He had a mad longing toseize Jeanne in his arms and carry her far away from the world, acrossthat immense calm space which seemed made expressly to rock sweetlyeternal loves. 

CHAPTER XV. MOTHER AND DAUGHTER

Micheline intended following her husband, but Madame Desvarennes, without rising, took hold of her hand. 

"Stay with me for a little while, " she said, tenderly. "We have scarcelyexchanged ten words since my arrival. Come, tell me, are you pleased tosee me?"

"How can you ask me that?" answered Micheline, seating herself on thesofa beside her mother. 

"I ask you so that you may tell me so, " resumed Madame Desvarennes, softly. "I know what you think, but that is not enough. " She addedpleadingly:

"Kiss me, will you?"

Micheline threw her arms round her mother's neck, saying, "Dear mamma!"which made tears spring to the tortured mother's eyes. She foldedher-daughter in her arms, and clasped her as a miser holds his treasure. 

"It is a long time since I have heard you speak thus to me. Two months!And I have been desolate in that large house you used to fill alone inthe days gone by. "

The young wife interrupted her mother, reproachfully:

"Oh! mamma; I beg you to be reasonable. "

"To be reasonable? In other words, I suppose you mean that I am to getaccustomed to living without you, after having for twenty years devotedmy life to you? Bear, without complaining, that my happiness should betaken away, and now that I am old lead a life without aim, without joy, without trouble even, because I know if you had any troubles you wouldnot tell me!"

There was a moment's pause. Then Micheline, in a constrained manner, said:

"What griefs could I have?"

Madame Desvarennes lost all patience, and giving vent to her feelingsexclaimed, bitterly:

"Those which your husband causes you!"

Micheline arose abruptly. 

"Mother!" she cried. 

But the mistress had commenced, and with unrestrained bitterness, wenton:

"That gentleman has behaved toward me in such a manner as to shake myconfidence in him! After vowing that he would never separate you fromme, he brought you here, knowing that I could not leave Paris. "

"You are unjust, " retorted Micheline. "You know the doctors ordered meto go to Nice. "

"Pooh! You can make doctors order you anything you like!" resumed hermother, excitedly, and shaking her head disdainfully. "Your husband saidto our good Doctor Rigaud: 'Don't you think that a season in the Southwould do my wife good?' The doctor answered: 'If it does not do her anygood it certainly won't do her any harm. ' Then your husband added, 'justtake a sheet of paper and write out a prescription. You understand? Itis for my mother-in-law, who will not be pleased at our going away. '"

And as Micheline seemed to doubt what she was saying, the latter added:

"The doctor told me when I went to see him about it. I never had muchfaith in doctors, and now--"

Micheline felt she was on delicate ground, and wanted to change thesubject. She soothed her mother as in days gone by, saying:

"Come, mamma; will you never be able to get used to your part? Mustyou always be jealous? You know all wives leave their mothers to followtheir husbands. It is the law of nature. You, in your day, remember, followed your husband, and your mother must have wept. "

"Did my mother love me as I love you?" asked Madame Desvarennes, impetuously. "I was brought up differently. We had not time to love eachother so much. We had to work. The happiness of spoiling one's child isa privilege of the rich. For you there was no down warm enough or silksoft enough to line your cradle. You have been petted and worshippedfor twenty years. Yet, it only needed a man, whom you scarcely knew sixmonths ago, to make you forget everything. "

"I have not forgotten anything, " replied Micheline, moved by thesepassionate expressions. "And in my heart you still hold the same place. "

The mistress looked at the young wife, then, in a sad tone, said:

"It is no longer the first place. "

This simple, selfish view made Micheline smile. 

"It is just like you, you tyrant!" she exclaimed. "You must be first. Come, be satisfied with equality! Remember that you were first in thefield, and that for twenty years I have loved you, while he has to makeup for lost time. Don't try to make a comparison between my love for himand my affection for you. Be kind: instead of looking black at him, tryto love him. I should be so happy to see you united, and to be able, without reservation, to think of you both with the same tenderness!"

"Ah! how you talk me over. How charming and caressing you can be whenyou like. And how happy Serge ought to be with a wife like you! It isalways the way; men like him always get the best wives. "

"I don't suppose, mamma, you came all the way from Paris to run down myhusband to me. "

Madame Desvarennes became serious again. 

"No; I came to defend you. "

Micheline looked surprised. 

"It is time for me to speak. You are seriously menaced, " continued themother. 

"In my love?" asked the young wife, in an altered tone. 

"No; in your fortune. "

Micheline smiled superbly. 

"If that be all!"

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 gaveyou four millions when you were married, represented by fifteen hundredthousand francs, in good stock, a house in the Rue de Rivoli, and eighthundred thousand francs which I prudently kept in the business, andfor which I pay you interest. The fifteen hundred thousand francs havevanished. My lawyer came to tell me that the house in the Rue de Rivolihad been sold without a reinvestment taking place. "

The mistress stopped. She had spoken in that frank, determined, way ofhers that was part of her strength. She looked fixedly at Micheline, andasked:

"Did you know this, my girl?"

The Princess, deeply troubled, because now it was not a question ofsentiment, but of serious moment, answered, in a low tone:

"No, mamma. "

"How is that possible?" Madame Desvarennes demanded, hotly. "Nothing canbe done without your signature. "

"I gave it, " murmured Micheline. 

"You gave it!" repeated the mistress in a tone of anger. "When?"

"The day after my marriage. "

"Your husband had the impudence to ask for it the day after yourmarriage?"

Micheline smiled. 

"He did not ask for it, mamma, " she replied, with sweetness; "I offeredit to him. You had settled all on me. "

"Prudently! With a fellow like your husband!"

"Your mistrust must have been humiliating to him. I was ashamed of it. I said nothing to you, because I knew you would rather prevent themarriage, and I loved Serge. I, therefore, signed the contract which youhad had prepared. Only the next day I gave a general power of attorneyto my husband. "

Madame Desvarennes's anger was over. She was observing Micheline, andwished to find out the depth of the abyss into which her daughter hadthrown herself with blind confidence. 

"And what did he say then?" she inquired. 

"Nothing, " answered Micheline, simply. "Tears came to his eyes, and hekissed me. I saw that this delicacy touched his heart and I was happy. There, mamma, " she added with eyes sparkling at the remembrance of thepleasure she had experienced, "he may spend as much as he likes; I amamply repaid beforehand. "

Madame Desvarennes shrugged her shoulders, and said:

"My dear child, you are mad enough to be locked up. What is there aboutthe fellow to turn every woman's brain?"

"Every woman's?" exclaimed Micheline, anxiously, looking at her mother. 

"That is a manner of speaking. But, my dear, you must understand that Icannot be satisfied with what you have just told me. A tear and a kiss!Bah! That is not worth your dowry. "

"Come, mamma, do let me be happy. "

"You can be happy without committing follies. You do not need aracing-stable. "

"Oh, he has chosen such pretty colors, " interrupted Micheline, with asmile. "Pearl-gray and silver, and pink cap. It is charming!"

"You think so? Well, you are not difficult to please. And the club? Whatdo you say to his gambling?"

Micheline turned pale, and with a constraint which hurt her mother, said:

"Is it necessary to make a fuss about a few games at bouillotte?"

This continual defense of Serge exasperated Madame Desvarennes. 

"Don't talk to me, " she continued, violently. "I am well informed onthat subject. He leaves you alone every evening to go and play withgentlemen who turn up the king with a dexterity the Legitimists mustenvy. My dear, shall I tell you his fortune? He commenced with cards; hecontinues with horses; he will finish with worthless women!"

"Mamma!" cried Micheline, wounded to the heart. 

"And your money will pay the piper! But, happily, I am here to put yourhousehold matters right. I am going to keep your gentleman so well underthat in future he will walk straight, I'll warrant you!"

Micheline rose and stood before her mother, looking so pale that thelatter was frightened. 

"Mother, " she said, in trembling tones, "if ever you say one word to myhusband, take care! I shall never see you again!"

Madame Desvarennes flinched before her daughter. It was no longer theweak Micheline who trusted to her tears, but a vehement woman ready todefend him whom she loved. And as she remained silent, not daring tospeak again:

"Mother, " continued Micheline, with sadness, yet firmly, "thisexplanation was inevitable; I have suffered beforehand, knowing that Ishould have to choose between my affection for my husband and my respectfor you. "

"Between the one and the other, " said the mistress, bitterly, "you don'thesitate, I see. "

"It is my duty; and if I failed in it, you yourself, with your goodsense, would see it. "

"Oh! Micheline, could I have expected to find you thus?" cried themother, in despair. "What a change! It is not you who are speaking; itis not my daughter. Fool that you are! Don't you see whither you arebeing led? You, yourself, are preparing your own misfortune. Don't thinkthat my words are inspired by jealousy. A higher sentiment dictatesthem, and at this moment my maternal love gives me, I fear, a foresightof the future. There is only just time to rescue you from the dangerinto which you are running. You hope to retain your husband by yourgenerosity? There where you think you are giving proofs of love he willonly see proofs of weakness. If you make yourself cheap he will countyou as nothing. If you throw yourself at his feet he will trample onyou. "

The Princess shook her head haughtily, and smiled. 

"You don't know him, mamma. He is a gentleman; he understands all thesedelicacies, and there is more to be gained by submitting one's self tohis discretion, than by trying to resist his will. You blame his mannerof existence, but you don't understand him. I know him. He belongs toa different race than you and I. He needs refinements of luxury whichwould be useless to us, but the deprivation of which would be hard tohim. He suffered much when he was poor, he is making up for it now. Weare guilty of some extravagances, 'tis true; but what does it matter?For whom have you made a fortune? For me! For what object? My happiness!Well, I am happy to surround my Prince with the glory and pomp whichsuits him so well. He is grateful to me; he loves me, and I hold hislove dearer than all else in the world; for if ever he ceases to love meI shall die!"

"Micheline!" cried Madame Desvarennes, beside herself, and seizing herdaughter with nervous strength. 

The young wife quietly allowed her fair head to fall on her mother'sshoulder, and whispered faintly in her ear:

"You don't want to wreck my life. I understand your displeasure. Itis natural; I feel it. You cannot think otherwise than you do, being asimple, hardworking woman; but I beg of you to banish all hatred, andconfine these ideas within yourself. Say nothing more about them forlove of me!"

The mother was vanquished. She had never been able to resist thatsuppliant voice. 

"Ah! cruel child, " she moaned, "what pain you are causing me!"

"You consent, don't you, dear mother?" murmured Micheline, falling intothe arms of her by whom she knew she was adored. 

"I will do as you wish, " said Madame Desvarennes, kissing her daughter'shair--that golden hair which, in former days, she loved to stroke. 

The strains of the piano sounded on the terrace. In the shade, groupsof merry dancers were enjoying themselves. Happy voices were heardapproaching, and Savinien, followed by Marechal and Suzanne, camebriskly up the steps. 

"Oh, aunt, it is not fair, " said the dandy. "If you have come hereto monopolize Micheline, you will be sent back to Paris. We want avis-a-vis for a quadrille. Come, Princess, it is delightfully cooloutside, and I am sure you will enjoy it. "

"Monsieur Le Brede has gathered some oranges, and is trying to playat cup and ball with them on his nose, while his friend, Monsieur duTremblay, jealous of his success, talks of illuminating the trees withbowls of punch, " said Marechal. 

"And what is Serge doing?" inquired Micheline, smiling. 

"He is talking to my wife on the terrace, " said Cayrol, appearing in thegallery. 

The young people went off and were lost in the darkness. MadameDesvarennes looked at Cayrol. He was happy and calm. There was no traceof his former jealousy. During the six months which had elapsed sincehis marriage, the banker had observed his wife closely, her actions, herwords: nothing had escaped him. He had never found her at fault. Thus, reassured, he had given her his confidence and this time forever. Jeannewas adorable; he loved her more than ever. She seemed very much changedto him. Her disposition, formerly somewhat harsh, had softened, and thehaughty, capricious girl had become a mild, demure, and somewhatserious woman. Unable to read his companion's thoughts, Cayrol sincerelybelieved that he had been unnecessarily anxious, and that Jeanne'stroubles had only been passing fancies. He took credit of the change inhis wife to himself, and was proud of it. 

"Cayrol, oblige me by removing that lamp; it hurts my eyes, " said MadameDesvarennes, anxious that the traces on her face, caused by her latediscussion with her daughter, should not be visible. "Then ask Jeanne tocome here for a few minutes. I have something to say to her. "

"Certainly, " said Cayrol, taking the lamp off the table and carrying itinto the adjoining room. 

Darkness did Madame Desvarennes good. It refreshed her mind and calmedher brow. The noise of dancing reached her. She commenced thinking. Soit had vainly tried to prove to her that a life of immoderate pleasurewas not conducive to happiness. The young wife had stopped her ears sothat she might not hear, and closed her eyes that she might not see. Hermother asked herself if she did not exaggerate the evil. Alas! no. Shesaw that she was not mistaken. Examining the society around her, men andwomen: everywhere was feverish excitement, dissipation, and nullity. Youmight rummage through their brains without finding one practical idea;in all their hearts, there was not one lofty aspiration. These people, in their daily life were like squirrels in a cage, and because theymoved, they thought they were progressing. In them scepticism had killedbelief; religion, family, country, were, as they phrased it, all humbug. They had only one aim, one passion--to enjoy themselves. Their watchwordwas "pleasure. " All those who did not perish of consumption would die inlunatic asylums. 

What was she doing in the midst of this rottenness? She, the womanof business? Could she hope to regenerate these poor wretches by herexample? No! She could not teach them to be good, and they excelled inteaching others harm. She must leave this gilded vice, taking withher those she loved, and leave the idle and incompetent to consume anddestroy themselves. 

She felt disgusted, and resolved to do all to tear Micheline awayfrom the contagion. In the meantime she must question Jeanne. A shadowappeared on the threshold: it was hers. In the darkness of the gallerySerge crept behind her without being seen. He had been watching Jeanne, and seeing her go away alone, had followed her. In the angle of thelarge bay-window, opening into the garden, he waited with palpitatingheart. Madame Desvarennes's voice was heard in the silence of thedrawing-room; he listened. 

"Sit down, Jeanne; our interview will be short, and it could not bedelayed, for to-morrow I shall not be here. "

"You are leaving so soon?"

"Yes; I only left Paris on my daughter's account, and on yours. Mydaughter knows what I had to tell her; now it is your turn! Why did youcome to Nice?"

"I could not do otherwise. "

"Because?"

"Because my husband wished it. "

"You ought to have made him wish something else. Your power over him isabsolute. "

There was a moment's pause. Then Jeanne answered:

"I feared to insist lest I should awaken his suspicions. "

"Good! But admitting that you came to Nice, why accept hospitality inthis house?"

"Micheline offered it to us, " said Jeanne. 

"And even that did not make you refuse. What part do you purpose playinghere? After six months of honesty, are you going to change your mind?"

Serge, behind his shelter, shuddered. Madame Desvarennes's words wereclear. She knew all. 

Jeanne's voice was indignant when she replied:

"By what right do you insult me by such a suspicion?"

"By the right which you have given me in not keeping to your bargain. You ought to have kept out of the way, and I find you here, seekingdanger and already trying those flirtations which are the forerunners ofsin, and familiarizing yourself with evil before wholly giving yourselfup to it. "

"Madame!" cried Jeanne, passionately. 

"Answer! Have you kept the promise you made me?"

"Have the hopes which you held out to me been realized?" replied Jeanne, with despair. "For six months I have been away, and have I found peaceof mind and heart? The duty which you pointed out to me as a remedy forthe pain which tortured me I have fruitlessly followed. I have wept, hoping that the trouble within me would be washed away with my tears. Ihave prayed to Heaven, and asked that I might love my husband. But, no!That man is as odious to me as ever. Now I have lost all my illusions, and find myself joined to him for the rest of my days! I have to telllies, to wear a mask, to smile! It is revolting, and I suffer! Nowthat you know what is passing within me, judge, and say whether yourreproaches are not a useless cruelty. "

On hearing Jeanne, Madame Desvarennes felt herself moved with deeppity. She asked herself whether it was not unjust for that poor child tosuffer so much. She had never done anything wrong, and her conduct wasworthy of esteem. 

"Unhappy woman!" she said. 

"Yes, unhappy, indeed, " resumed Jeanne, "because I have nothing to clingto, nothing to sustain me. My mind is afflicted with feverish thoughts, my heart made desolate with bitter regrets. My will alone protects me, and in a moment of weakness it may betray me. "

"You still love him?" asked Madame Desvarennes, in a deep voice whichmade Serge quiver. 

"Do I know? There are times when I think I hate him. What I have enduredsince I have been here is incredible! Everything galls me, irritates me. My husband is blind, Micheline unsuspicious, and Serge smiles quietly, as if he were preparing some treachery. Jealousy, anger, contempt, areall conflicting within me. I feel that I ought to go away, and still Ifeel a horrible delight in remaining. "

"Poor child!" said Madame Desvarennes. "I pity you from my soul. Forgivemy unjust words; you have done all in your power. You have had momentaryweaknesses like all human beings. You must be helped, and may rely onme. I will speak to your husband to-morrow; he shall take you away. Lacking happiness, you must have peace. Go you are a brave heart, and ifHeaven be just, you will be rewarded. "

Serge heard the sound of a kiss. In an embrace, the mother had blessedher adopted daughter. Then the Prince saw Madame Desvarennes go slowlypast him. And the silence was broken only by the sobs of Jeanne who washalf lying on the sofa in the darkness. 

CHAPTER XVI. THE TELLTALE KISS

Serge slipped from his hiding-place and came toward Jeanne. The carpetdeadened the sound of his steps. The young woman was gazing into vacancyand breathing with difficulty. He looked at her for a moment withoutspeaking; then, leaning over her shoulder. 

"Is it true, Jeanne, " he murmured, softly, "that you hate me?"

Jeanne arose, bewildered, exclaiming, "Serge!"

"Yes, Serge, " answered the Prince, "who has never ceased to love you. "

A deep blush spread over the young woman's face. 

"Leave me, " she said. "Your language is unworthy of a man. I will notlisten to you. "

And with a quick step she walked toward the gallery. Serge threw himselfin her way, saying:

"You must stop; you cannot escape me. "

"But this is madness, " exclaimed Jeanne, moving away. "Do you forgetwhere we are?"

"Do you forget what you have just been saying?" retorted Serge. "I wasthere; I did not miss a word. "

"If you heard me, " said Jeanne, "you know that everything separates us. My duty, yours, and my will. "

"A will which is enforced, and against which your heart rebels. A willto which I will not submit. "

As he spoke, Serge advanced toward her, trying to seize her in his arms. 

"Take care!" replied Jeanne. "Micheline and my husband are there. Youmust be mad to forget it. If you come a step farther I shall call out. "

"Call, then!" cried Serge, clasping her in his arms. 

Jeanne tried to free herself from him, but could not. 

"Serge, " she said, paling with mingled anguish and rapture in the armsof him whom she adored, "what you are doing is cowardly and base!"

A kiss stopped the words on her lips. Jeanne felt herself giving way. She made a supreme effort. 

"I won't, Serge!" she stammered. "Have mercy!"

Tears of shame rolled down her face. 

"No! you belong to me. The other, your husband, stole you from me. Itake you back. I love you!"

The young woman fell on a seat. 

Serge repeated, "I love you! I love you! I love you!"

A fearful longing took possession of Jeanne. She no longer pushed awaythe arms which clasped her. She placed her hands on Serge's shoulder, and with a deep sigh gave herself up. 

A profound silence reigned around. Suddenly a sound of approachingvoices roused them, and at the same moment the heavy curtain whichseparated the room from the adjoining drawing-room was lifted. A shadowappeared on the threshold, as they were still in each other's arms. Thestifled exclamation, "O God!" followed by a sob of agony, resounded. The door curtain fell, surrounding with its folds the unknown witness ofthat terrible scene. 

Jeanne had risen, trying to collect her ideas. A sudden light dawned onher mind; she realized in a moment the extent of her crime, and utteringa cry of horror and despair, she escaped, followed by Serge, through thegallery. 

Then the heavy curtain was lifted again, and tottering, livid, almostdead, Micheline entered the room. Pierre, serious and cold, walkedbehind her. The Princess, feeling tired, had come into the house. Chancehad led her there to witness this proof of misfortune and treason. 

Both she and Delarue looked at each other, silent and overwhelmed. Theirthoughts whirled through their brains with fearful rapidity. In a momentthey looked back on their existence. He saw the pale betrothed of whomhe had dreamed as a wife, who had willingly given herself to another, and who now found herself so cruelly punished. She measured the distancewhich separated these two men: the one good, loyal, generous; the otherselfish, base, and unworthy. And seeing him whom she adored, so vile andbase compared to him whom she had disdained, Micheline burst into bittertears. 

Pierre tremblingly hastened toward her. The Princess made a movementto check him, but she saw on the face of her childhood's friend suchsincere grief and honest indignation, that she felt as safe, with himas if he had really been her brother. Overcome, she let her head fall onhis shoulder, and wept. 

The sound of approaching footsteps made Micheline arise. She recognizedher husband's step, and hastily seizing Pierre's hand, said:

"Never breathe a word; forget what you have seen. "

Then, with deep grief, she added:

"If Serge knew that I had seen him unawares he would never forgive me!"

Drying her tears, and still tottering from the shock, she left the room. Pierre remained alone, quite stunned; pitying, yet blaming the poorwoman, who, in her outraged love, still had the absurd courage to holdher tongue and to resign herself. Anger seized on him, and the moretimid Micheline seemed herself, the more violent and passionate he felt. 

Serge came back to the room. After the first moment of excitement, hehad reflected, and wanted to know by whom he had been observed. Was itMadame Desvarennes, Micheline, or Cayrol, who had come in? At this ideahe trembled, measuring the possible results of the imprudence he hadbeen guilty of. He resolved to face the difficulty if it were either ofthese three interested parties, and to impose silence if he had to dealwith an indifferent person. He took the lamp which Madame Desvarenneshad a short time before asked Cayrol to remove and went into the room. Pierre was there alone. 

The two men measured each other with their looks. Delarue guessed theanxiety of Serge, and the Prince understood the hostility of Pierre. Heturned pale. 

"It was you who came in?" he asked, boldly. 

"Yes, " replied Pierre, with severity. 

The Prince hesitated for a second. He was evidently seeking a politeform to express his request. He did not find one, and in a threateningmanner, he resumed:

"You must hold your tongue, otherwise--"

"Otherwise?" inquired Pierce, aggressively. 

"What is the use of threats?" replied Serge, already calmed. "Excuse me;I know that you will not tell; if not for my sake at least for that ofothers. "

"Yes, for others, " said Pierre, passionately; "for others whom you havebasely sacrificed, and who deserve all your respect and love; forMadame Desvarennes, whose high intelligence you have not been able tounderstand; for Micheline, whose tender heart you have not been able toappreciate. Yes, for their sakes I will hold my peace, not out of regardfor you, because you neither deserve consideration nor esteem. "

The Prince advanced a step, and exclaimed:

"Pierre!"

Pierre did not move, and looking Serge in the face, continued:

"The truth is unpleasant to you, still you must hear it. You actaccording to your fancies. Principles and morals, to which all mensubmit, are dead letters to you. Your own pleasure above all things, andalways! That is your rule, eh? and so much the worse if ruin and troubleto others are the consequences? You only have to deal with two women, and you profit by it. But I warn you that if you continue to crush themI will be their defender. "

Serge had listened to all this with disdainful impassibility, and whenPierre had finished, he smiled, snapped his fingers, and turning towardthe young man:

"My dear fellow, " said he, "allow me to tell you that I think you arevery impertinent. You come here meddling with my affairs. What authorityhave you? Are you a relative? A connection? By what right do you preachthis sermon?"

As he concluded, Serge seated himself and laughed with a careless air. 

Pierre answered, gravely:

"I was betrothed to Micheline when she saw and loved you: that is myright! I could have married her, but sacrificed my love to hers: thatis my authority! And it is in the name of my shattered hopes and losthappiness that I call you to account for her future peace. "

Serge had risen, he was deeply embittered at what Delarue had just toldhim, and was trying to recover his calmness. Pierre, trembling withemotion and anger, was also striving to check their influence. 

"It seems to me, " said the Prince, mockingly, "that in your claim thereis more than the outcry of an irritated conscience; it is the complaintof a heart that still loves. "

"And if that were so?" retorted Pierre. "Yes, I love her, but with apious love, from the depth of my soul, as one would love a saint; and Ionly suffer the more to see her suffering. "

Somewhat irritated the Prince exclaimed, impatiently:

"Oh, don't let us have a lyric recitation; let us be brief and clear. What do you want? Explain yourself. I don't suppose that you haveaddressed this rebuke to me solely for the purpose of telling me thatyou are in love with my wife!"

Pierre disregarded what was insulting in the Prince's answer, andcalming himself, by force of will, replied:

"I desire, since you ask me, that you forget the folly and error ofa moment, and that you swear to me on your honor never to see MadameCayrol again. "

Pierre's moderation wounded the Prince more than his rage had affectedhim. He felt petty beside this devoted friend, who only thought of thehappiness of her whom he loved without hope. His temper increased. 

"And what if I refuse to lend myself to those whims which you express socandidly?"

"Then, " said Pierre, resolutely, "I shall remember that, when renouncingMicheline, I promised to be a brother to her, and if you compel me Iwill defend her. "

"You are threatening me, I think, " cried Serge, beside himself. 

"No! I warn you. "

"Enough, " said the Prince, scarcely able to command himself. "For anylittle service you have rendered me, from henceforth we are quits. Don'tthink that I am one of those who yield to violence. Keep out of my path;it will be prudent. "

"Listen, then, to this. I am not one of those who shirk a duty, whatever the peril be in accomplishing it. You know what price I put onMicheline's happiness; you are responsible for it, and I shall obligeyou to respect it. "

And leaving Serge dumb with suppressed rage, Pierre went out on theterrace. 

On the high road the sound of the carriages bearing away Savinien, Herzog and his daughter, resounded in the calm starry night. Inthe villa everything was quiet. Pierre breathed with delight; heinstinctively turned his eyes toward the brilliant sky, and in thefar-off firmament, the star which he appropriated to himself long ago, and which he had so desperately looked for when he was unhappy, suddenlyappeared bright and twinkling. He sighed and moved on. 

The Prince spent a part of the night at the club; he was excessivelynervous, and after alternate losses and gains, he retired, carrying offa goodly sum from his opponents. It was a long time since he had been solucky, and on his way home he smiled when he thought how false was theproverb, "Lucky at play, unlucky in love. " He thought of that adorableJeanne whom he had held in his arms a few hours before, and who had soeagerly clung to him. He understood that she had never ceased to belongto him. The image of Cayrol, self-confident man, happy in his love, coming to his mind, caused Serge to laugh. 

There was no thought for Micheline; she had been the stepping-stone tofortune for him; he knew that she was gentle and thought her not verydiscerning. He could easily deceive her; with a few caresses and alittle consideration he could maintain the illusion of his love for her. Madame Desvarennes alone inconvenienced him in his arrangements. She wassagacious, and on several occasions he had seen her unveil plots whichhe thought were well contrived. He must really beware of her. He hadoften noticed in her voice and look an alarming hardness. She was not awoman to be afraid of a scandal. On the contrary, she would hail it withjoy, and be happy to get rid of him whom she hated with all her might. 

In spite of himself, Serge remembered the night of his union toMicheline, when he had said to Madame Desvarennes: "Take my life; it isyours!" She had replied seriously, and almost threateningly: "Very well;I accept it!" These words now resounded in his ears like a verdict. He promised himself to play a sure game with Madame Desvarennes. Asto Cayrol, he was out of the question; he had only been created as aplaything for princes such as Serge; his destiny was written on hisforehead, and he could not escape. If it had not been Panine, some oneelse would have done the same thing for him. Besides, how could thatex-cowherd expect to keep such a woman as Jeanne was to himself. Itwould have been manifestly unfair. 

The Prince found his valet asleep in the hall. He went quickly to hisbedroom, and slept soundly without remorse, without dreams, until noon. Coming down to breakfast, he found the family assembled. Savinien hadcome to see his aunt, before whom he wanted to place a "colossalidea. " This time, he said, it was worth a fortune. He hoped to draw sixthousand francs from the mistress who, according to her usual custom, could not fail to buy from him what he called his idea. 

The dandy was thoughtful; he was preparing his batteries. Micheline, pale, and her eyes red for want of rest, was seated near the gallery, silently watching the sea, on which were passing, in the distance, fishing-smacks with their sails looking like white-winged birds. MadameDesvarennes was serious, and was giving Marechal instructions respectingher correspondence, while at the same time watching her daughter outof the corner of her eye. Micheline's depressed manner caused her someanxiety; she guessed some mystery. Still the young wife's trouble mightbe the result of last evening's serious interview. But the sagacity ofthe mistress guessed a new incident. Perhaps some scene between Sergeand Micheline in regard to the club. She was on the watch. 

Cayrol and Jeanne had gone for a drive to Mentone. With a single glancethe Prince took in the attitude of one and all, and after a politeexchange of words and a careless kiss on Micheline's brow, he seatedhimself at table. The repast was silent. Each one seemed preoccupied. Serge anxiously asked himself whether Pierre had spoken. Marechal, deeply interested in his plate, answered briefly, when addressed byMadame Desvarennes. All the guests seemed constrained. It was a reliefwhen they rose from the table. 

Micheline took her husband's arm and leading him into the garden, underthe shade of the magnolias, said to him:

"My mother leaves us to-night. She has received a letter recalling herto Paris. Her journey here was, you no doubt know, on our account. Ourabsence made her sad, and she could no longer refrain from seeing me, soshe came. On her return to Paris she will feel very lonely, and as I amso often alone--"

"Micheline!" interrupted Serge, with astonishment. 

"It is not a reproach, dear, " continued the young wife, sweetly. "Youhave your engagements. There are necessities to which one must submit;you do what you think is expected of you, and it must be right. Onlygrant me a favor. "

"A favor? To you?" replied Serge, troubled at the unexpected turn theinterview was taking. "Speak, dear one; are you not at liberty to do asyou like?"

"Well, " said Micheline, with a faint smile, "as you are so kindlydisposed, promise that we shall leave for Paris this week. The season isfar advancing. All your friends will have returned. It will not be sucha great sacrifice which I ask from you. "

"Willingly, " said Serge, surprised at Micheline's sudden resolution. "But, admit, " added he, gravely, "that your mother has worried you alittle on the subject. "

"My mother knows nothing of my project, " returned the Princess, coldly. "I did not care to say anything about it to her until I had yourconsent. A refusal on your part would have seemed too cruel. Already, you are not the best of friends, and it is one of my regrets. You mustbe good to my mother, Serge; she is getting old, and we owe her muchgratitude and love. "

Panine remained silent. Could such a sudden change have come overMicheline in one day? She who lately sacrificed her mother for herhusband now came and pleaded in favor of Madame Desvarennes. What hadhappened?

He promptly decided on his course of action. 

"All that you ask me shall be religiously fulfilled. No concession willbe too difficult for me to make if it please you. You wish to returnto Paris, we will go as soon as our arrangements have been made. TellMadame Desvarennes, then, and let her see in our going a proof that Iwish to live on good terms with her. "

Micheline simply said: "Thank you. " And Serge having gallantly kissedher hand, she regained the terrace. 

Left alone, Serge asked himself the meaning of the transformation in hiswife. For the first time she had shown signs of taking the initiative. Had the question of money been raised by Madame Desvarennes, and wasMicheline taking him back to Paris in the hope of inducing a change inhis habits? They would see. The idea that Micheline had seen him withJeanne never occurred to him. He did not think his wife capable of somuch self-control. Loving as she was, she could not have controlledher feelings, and would have made a disturbance. Therefore he had nosuspicions. 

As to their leaving for Paris he was delighted at the idea. Jeanne andCayrol were leaving Nice at the end of the week. Lost in the vastness ofthe capital, the lovers would be more secure. They could see each otherat leisure. Serge would hire a small house in the neighborhood ofthe Bois de Boulogne, and there they could enjoy each other's societywithout observation. 

CHAPTER XVII. CAYROL IS BLIND

Micheline, on her return to Paris, was a cause of anxiety to all herfriends. Morally and physically she was changed. Her former gayety haddisappeared. In a few weeks she became thin and seemed to be wastingaway. Madame Desvarennes, deeply troubled, questioned her daughter, who answered, evasively, that she was perfectly well and had nothing totrouble her. The mother called in Doctor Rigaud, although she did notbelieve in the profession, and, after a long conference, took him tosee Micheline. The doctor examined her, and declared it was nothing butdebility. Madame Desvarennes was assailed with gloomy forebodings. Shespent sleepless nights, during which she thought her daughter was dead;she heard the funeral dirges around her coffin. This strong woman wept, not daring to show her anxiety, and trembling lest Micheline shouldsuspect her fears. 

Serge was careless and happy, treating the apprehensions of thosesurrounding him with perfect indifference. He did not think his wife wasill--a little tired perhaps, or it might be change of climate, nothingserious. He had quite fallen into his old ways, spending every night atthe club, and a part of the day in a little house in the Avenue Maillot, near the Bois de Boulogne. He had found one charmingly furnished, andthere he sheltered his guilty happiness. 

It was here that Jeanne came, thickly veiled, since her return fromNice. They each had a latchkey belonging to the door opening upon theBois. The one who arrived first waited for the other, within the house, whose shutters remained closed to deceive passers-by. Then the hour ofdeparture came; the hope of meeting again did not lessen their sadnessat parting. 

Jeanne seldom went to the Rue Saint-Dominique. The welcome thatMicheline gave her was the same as usual, but Jeanne thought shediscovered a coldness which made her feel uncomfortable; and she did notcare to meet her lover's wife, so she made her visits scarce. 

Cayrol came every morning to talk on business matters with MadameDesvarennes. He had resumed the direction of his banking establishment. The great scheme of the European Credit Company had been launchedby Herzog, and promised great results. Still Herzog caused Cayrolconsiderable anxiety. Although a man of remarkable intelligence, hehad a great failing, and by trying to grasp too much often ended byaccomplishing nothing. Scarcely was one scheme launched when anotheridea occurred to him, to which he sacrificed the former. 

Thus, Herzog was projecting a still grander scheme to be based on theEuropean Credit. Cayrol, less sanguine, and more practical, was afraidof the new scheme, and when Herzog spoke to him about it, said thatthings were well enough for him as they were, and that he would not beimplicated in any fresh financial venture however promising. 

Cayrol's refusal had vexed Herzog. The German knew what opinion he washeld in by the public, and that without the prestige of Cayrol's name, and behind that, the house of Desvarennes, he would never have been ableto float the European Credit as it had been. He was too cunning not toknow this, and Cayrol having declined to join him, he looked round insearch of a suitable person to inspire the shareholders with confidence. 

His daughter often went to the Rue Saint-Dominique. Madame Desvarennesand Micheline had taken a fancy to her, as she was serious, natural, andhomelike. They liked to see her, although her father was not congenialto their taste. Herzog had not succeeded in making friends with themistress; she disliked and instinctively mistrusted him. 

One day it was rumored that Suzanne Herzog had gone in for anexamination at the Hotel de Ville, and had gained a certificate: Peoplethought it was very ridiculous. What was the good of so much learningfor a girl who would have such a large fortune, and who would never knowwant. Savinien thought it was affectation and most laughable! MadameDesvarennes thought it was most interesting; she liked workers, andconsidered that the richer people were, the more reason they hadto work. Herzog had allowed his daughter to please herself and saidnothing. 

Springtime had come, and fine weather, yet Micheline's health did notimprove. She did not suffer, but a sort of languor had come overher. For days she never quitted her reclining-chair. She was veryaffectionate toward her mother, and seemed to be making up for the lackof affection shown during the first months of her marriage. 

She never questioned Serge as to his manner of spending his time, though she seldom saw him, except at meal hours. Every week she wrote toPierre, who was buried in his mines, and after every despatch her mothernoticed that she seemed sadder and paler. 

Serge and Jeanne grew bolder. They felt that they were not watched. Thelittle house seemed too small for them, and they longed to go beyond thegarden, as the air of the Bois was so sweet and scented with violets. A feeling of bravado came over them, and they did not mind being seentogether. People would think they were a newly-married couple. 

One afternoon they sallied forth, Jeanne wearing a thick veil, andtrembling at the risk she was running, yet secretly delighted at going. They chose the most unfrequented paths and solitary nooks. Then, afteran hour's stroll, they returned briskly, frightened at the sounds ofcarriages rolling in the distance. They often went out after that, andchose in preference the paths near the pond of Madrid where, behindsheltering shrubs, they sat talking and listening to the busy hum ofParisian life, seemingly so far away. 

One day, about four o'clock, Madame Desvarennes was going to Saint-Cloudon business, and was crossing the Bois de Boulogne. Her coachman hadchosen the most unfrequented paths to save time. She had opened thecarriage-window, and was enjoying the lovely scent from the shrubs. Suddenly a watering-cart stopped the way. Madame Desvarennes lookedthrough the window to see what was the matter, and remained stupefied. At the turning of a path she espied Serge, with a woman on his arm. Sheuttered a cry that caused the couple to turn round. Seeing that paleface, they sought to hide themselves. 

In a moment Madame Desvarennes was out of the carriage. The guiltycouple fled down a path. Without caring what might be said of her, andgoaded on by a fearful rage, she tried to follow them. She especiallywished to see the woman who was closely veiled. She guessed her to beJeanne. But the younger woman, terrified, fled like a deer down a sidewalk. Madame Desvarennes, quite out of breath, was obliged to stop. Sheheard the slamming of a carriage-door, and a hired brougham that hadbeen waiting at the end of the path swept by her bearing the loverstoward the town. 

The mistress hesitated a moment, then said to her coachman:

"Drive home. " And, abandoning her business, she arrived in the RueSaint-Dominique a few minutes after the Prince. 

With a bound, without going through the offices, without even takingoff her bonnet and cloak, she went up to Serge's apartments. Withouthesitating, she entered the smoking-room. 

Panine was there. Evidently he was expecting her. On seeing MadameDesvarennes he rose, with a smile:

"One can see that you are at home, " said he, ironically; "you come inwithout knocking. "

"No nonsense; the moment is ill-chosen, " briefly retorted the mistress. "Why did you run away when you saw me a little while ago?"

"You have such a singular way of accosting people, " he answered, lightly. "You come on like a charge of cavalry. The person with whom Iwas talking was frightened, she ran away and I followed her. "

"She was doing wrong then if she was frightened. Does she know me?"

"Who does not know you? You are almost notorious--in the corn-market!"

Madame Desvarennes allowed the insult to pass without remark, andadvancing toward Serge, said:

"Who is this woman?"

"Shall I introduce her to you?" inquired the Prince, quietly. "She isone of my countrywomen, a Polish--"

"You are a liar!" cried Madame Desvarennes, unable to control her temperany longer. "You are lying most impudently!"

And she was going to add, "That woman was Jeanne!" but prudence checkedthe sentence on her lips. 

Serge turned pale. 

"You forget yourself strangely, Madame, " he said, in a dry tone. 

"I forgot myself a year ago, not now! It was when I was weak that Iforgot myself. When Micheline was between you and me I neither dared tospeak nor act. 

"But now, since after almost ruining my poor daughter, you deceive her, I have no longer any consideration for you. To make her come over to myside I have only to speak one word. "

"Well, speak it! She is there. I will call her!"

Madame Desvarennes, in that supreme moment, was assailed by a doubt. What if Micheline, in her blind love, did not believe her?

She raised her hand to stop Serge. 

"Will not the fear of killing my daughter by this revelation stay you?"asked she, bitterly. "What manner of man are you to have so little heartand conscience?"

Panine burst into laughter. 

"You see what your threats are worth, and what value I place on them. Spare them in the future. You ask me what manner of man I am? I willtell you. I have not much patience, I hate to have my liberty interferedwith, and I have a horror of family jars. I expect to be master of myown house. "

Madame Desvarennes was roused at these words. Her rage had abated on herdaughter's account, but now it rose to a higher pitch. 

"Ah! so this is it, is it?" she said. "You would like perfect liberty, I see! You make such very good use of it. You don't like to hear remarksupon it. It is more convenient, in fact! You wish to be master in yourown house? In your own house! But, in truth, what are you here to put onairs toward me? Scarcely more than a servant. A husband receiving wagesfrom me!"

Serge, with flashing eyes, made a terrible movement. He tried to speak, but his lips trembled, and he could not utter a sound. By a sign heshowed Madame Desvarennes the door. The latter looked resolutely at thePrince, and with energy which nothing could henceforth soften, added:

"You will have to deal with me in future! Good-day!"

And, leaving the room with as much calmness as she felt rage whenentering it, she went down to the counting-house. 

Cayrol was sitting chatting with Marechal in his room. He was tellinghim that Herzog's rashness caused him much anxiety. Marechal didnot encourage his confidence. The secretary's opinion on the want ofmorality on the part of the financier had strengthened. The good feelinghe entertained toward the daughter had not counterbalanced the badimpression he had of the father, and he warmly advised Cayrol to breakoff all financial connection with such a man. Cayrol, indeed, had nowvery little to do with the European Credit. The office was still athis banking house, and the payments for shares were still made intohis bank, but as soon as the new scheme which Herzog was preparing waslaunched, the financier intended settling in splendid offices which werebeing rapidly completed in the neighborhood of the Opera. Herzog mighttherefore commit all the follies which entered his head. Cayrol would beout of it. 

Madame Desvarennes entered. At the first glance, the men noticed thetraces of the emotion she had just experienced. They rose and waited insilence. When the mistress was in a bad humor everybody gave way toher. It was the custom. She nodded to Cayrol, and walked up and down theoffice, absorbed in her own thoughts. Suddenly stopping, she said:

"Marechal, prepare Prince Panine's account. "

The secretary looked up amazed, and did not seem to understand. 

"Well! The Prince has had an overdraft; you will give me a statement;that's all! I wish to see how we two stand. "

The two men, astonished to hear Madame Desvarennes speak of herson-in-law as she would of a customer, exchanged looks. 

"You have lent my son-in-law money, Cayrol?"

And as the banker remained silent, still looking at the secretary, Madame added:

"Does the presence of Marechal make you hesitate in answering me? Speakbefore him; I have told you more than a hundred times that he knows mybusiness as well as I do. "

"I have, indeed, advanced some money to the Prince, " replied Cayrol. 

"How much?" inquired Madame Desvarennes. 

"I don't remember the exact amount. I was happy to oblige yourson-in-law. "

"You were wrong, and have acted unwisely in not acquainting me of thefact. It is thus that his follies have been encouraged by obligingfriends. At all events, I ask you now not to lend him any more. "

Cayrol seemed put out, and, with his hands in his pockets and hisshoulders up, replied:

"This is a delicate matter which you ask of me. You will cause a quarrelbetween the Prince and myself--"

"Do you prefer quarreling with me?" asked the mistress. 

"Zounds! No!" replied the banker. "But you place me in an embarrassingposition! I have just promised to lend Serge a considerable sumto-night. "

"Well! you will not give it to him. "

"That is an act which he will scarcely forgive, " sighed Cayrol. 

Madame Desvarennes placed her hand on the shoulder of the banker, andlooking seriously at him, said:

"You would not have forgiven me if I had allowed you to render him thisservice. "

A vague uneasiness filled Cayrol's heart, a shadow seemed to pass beforehis eyes, and in a troubled voice he said to the mistress:

"Why so?"

"Because he would have repaid you badly. "

Cayrol thought the mistress was alluding to the money he had alreadylent, and his fears vanished. Madame Desvarennes would surely repay it. 

"So you are cutting off his resources?" he asked. 

"Completely, " answered the mistress. "He takes too much liberty, thatyoung gentleman. He was wrong to forget that I hold the purse-strings. Idon't mind paying, but I want a little deference shown me for my money. Good-by! Cayrol, remember my instructions. "

And, shaking hands with the banker, Madame Desvarennes entered her ownoffice, leaving the two men together. 

There was a moment's pause: Cayrol was the first to break the silence. 

"What do you think of the Prince's position?"

"His financial position?" asked Marechal. 

"Oh, no! I know all about that! I mean his relation to MadameDesvarennes. "

"Zounds! If we were in Venice in the days of the Aqua-Toffana, thesbirri and the bravi--"

"What rubbish!" interrupted Cayrol, shrugging his shoulders. 

"Let me continue, " said the secretary, "and you can shrug your shouldersafterward if you like. If we had been in Venice, knowing MadameDesvarennes as I do, it would not have been surprising to me to have hadMaster Serge found at the bottom of the canal some fine morning. "

"You are not in earnest, " muttered the banker. 

"Much more so than you think. Only you know we live in the nineteenthcentury, and we cannot make Providence interpose in the form of adagger or poison so easily as in former days. Arsenic and verdigris aresometimes used, but it does not answer. Scientific people have had themeanness to invent tests by which poison can be detected even when thereis none. "

"You are making fun of me, " said Cayrol, laughing. 

"I! No. Come, do you wish to do a good stroke of business? Find a manwho will consent to rid Madame Desvarennes of her son-in-law. If hesucceed, ask Madame Desvarennes for a million francs. I will pay it atonly twenty-five francs' discount, if you like!"

Cayrol was thoughtful. Marechal continued:

"You have known the house a long time, how is it you don't understandthe mistress better? I tell you, and remember this: between MadameDesvarennes and the Prince there is a mortal hatred. One of the two willdestroy the other. Which? Betting is open. "

"But what must I do? The Prince relies on me--"

"Go and tell him not to do so any longer. "

"Faith, no! I would rather he came to my office. I should be more atease. Adieu, Marechal. "

"Adieu, Monsieur Cayrol. But on whom will you bet?"

"Before I venture I should like to know on whose side the Princess is. "

"Ah, dangler! You think too much of the women! Some day you will be letin through that failing of yours!"

Cayrol smiled conceitedly, and went away. Marechal sat down at his desk, and took out a sheet of paper. 

"I must tell Pierre that everything is going on well here, " he murmured. "If he knew what was taking place he would soon be back, and might beguilty of some foolery or other. " So he commenced writing. 

BOOK 4. 

CHAPTER XVIII. THE UNIVERSAL CREDIT COMPANY

The banking-house of Cayrol had not a very imposing appearance. It wasa narrow two-storied building, the front blackened by time. There wasa carriage gateway, on the right-hand side of which was the entranceto the offices. The stairs leading to the first floor were covered bya well-worn carpet. Here was a long corridor into which the differentoffices opened. On their glass doors might be read: "Payments ofdividends. " "Accounts. " "Foreign correspondence. " "General office. "Cayrol's own room was quite at the end, and communicated with hisprivate apartments. Everything breathed of simplicity and honesty. Cayrol had never tried to throw dust into people's eyes. He had startedmodestly when opening the bank; his business had increased, but hishabits had remained the same. It was not a difficult matter to obtainan interview, even by people not known to him. They sent in their cards, and were admitted to his sanctum. 

It was amid the coming and going of customers and clerks that PrincePanine came the following day to find Cayrol. For the first time Sergehad put himself out for the banker. He was introduced with marks of themost profound respect. The great name of Desvarennes seemed to cast akind of halo round his head in the eyes of the clerks. 

Cayrol, a little embarrassed, but still resolute, went toward him. Serge seemed nervous and somewhat abrupt in manner. He foresaw somedifficulty. 

"Well! my dear fellow, " he said, without sitting down. "What are you upto? I have waited since yesterday for the money you promised me. "

Cayrol scratched his ear, and felt taken aback by this plain speaking. 

"The fact is--" stammered he. 

"Have you forgotten your engagement?" asked Serge, frowning. 

"No, " replied Cayrol, speaking slowly, "but I met Madame Desvarennesyesterday. "

"And what had that to do with your intentions?"

"Zounds! It had everything to do with them. Your mother-in-law made ascene, and forbade my lending you any money. You must understand, mydear Prince, that my relations with Madame Desvarennes are important. I hold a great deal of money of hers in my bank. She first gave me astart. I cannot, without appearing ungrateful, act contrary to her will. Place yourself in my position, and judge impartially of the terriblealternative between obliging you and displeasing my benefactress. "

"Don't cry; it is useless, " said Serge, with a scornful laugh. "Isympathize with your troubles. You side with the money-bags. It remainsto be seen whether you will gain by it. "

"My dear Prince, I swear to you that I am in despair, " cried Cayrol, annoyed at the turn the interview was taking. "Listen; be reasonable! Idon't know what you have done to your mother-in-law, but she seems muchvexed with you. In your place I would rather make a few advances thanremain hostile toward Madame Desvarennes. That would mend matters, yousee. Flies are not to be caught with vinegar. "

Serge looked contemptuously at Cayrol, and put on his hat with supremeinsolence. 

"Pardon me, my dear fellow; as a banker you are excellent when you haveany money to spare, but as a moralist you are highly ridiculous. "

And, turning on his heel, he quitted the office, leaving Cayrol quiteabashed. He passed along the corridor switching his cane with suppressedrage. Madame Desvarennes had, with one word, dried up the source fromwhich he had been drawing most of the money which he had spent duringthe last three months. He had to pay a large sum that evening at theclub, and he did not care to apply to the money-lenders of Paris. 

He went down the stairs wondering how he would get out of this scrape!Go to Madame Desvarennes and humble himself as Cayrol advised? Never!He regretted, for a moment, the follies which had led him into thisdifficulty. He ought to have been able to live on two hundredthousand francs a year! He had squandered money foolishly, and now theinexhaustible well from which he had drawn his treasure was closed by aninvincible will. 

He was crossing the gateway, when a well-known voice struck his ear, andhe turned round. Herzog, smiling in his enigmatical manner, was beforehim. Serge bowed, and wanted to pass on, but the financier put his handon his arm, saying:

"What a hurry you are in, Prince. I suppose your pocketbook is full ofnotes, and you are afraid of being plundered. "

And with his finger, Herzog touched the silver mounted pocketbook, thecorner of which was peeping out of the Prince's pocket. Panine could notcontrol a gesture of vexation, which made the financier smile. 

"Am I wrong?" asked Herzog. "Can our friend Cayrol have refused yourrequest? By-the-bye, did you not quarrel with Madame Desvarennesyesterday? Whoever was it told me that? Your mother-in-law spoke ofcutting off all your credit, and from your downcast look I guess thatfool Cayrol has obeyed the orders he has received. "

Serge, exasperated and stamping with rage, wanted to speak, but it wasno easy matter interrupting Herzog. Besides, there was something in thelatter's look which annoyed Serge. His glance seemed to be fathoming thedepths of Panine's pockets, and the latter instinctively tightened hisarms across his chest, so that Herzog might not see that his pocketbookwas empty. 

"What are you talking about?" asked Serge, at last, with a constrainedsmile. 

"About things which must greatly interest you, " said Herzog, familiarly. "Come, be sincere. Cayrol has just refused you a sum of money. He's asimpleton! How much do you want? Will a hundred thousand francs do justnow?"

And writing a few words on a check, the financier handed it to Serge, adding:

"A man of your position should not be in any difficulty for such apaltry sum!"

"But, sir, " said Serge, astonished, and pushing away Herzog's hand. 

"Accept it, and don't feel indebted to me. It is hardly worth whilebetween you and me. "

And taking Panine's arm Herzog walked on with him. 

"Your carriage is there? all right, mine will follow. I want to talk toyou. Your troubles cannot last. I will show you the means of extricatingyourself and that without delay, my dear sir. "

And without consulting Panine he seated himself beside him in thecarriage. 

"I told you once, if you remember, " continued the financier, "that Imight prove useful to you. You were haughty, and I did not insist; yetyou see the day has come. Let me speak frankly with you. It is my usualmanner, and there is some good in it. "

"Speak, " answered Serge, rather puzzled. 

"You find yourself at this moment, vulgarly speaking, left in the lurch. Your wants are many and your resources few. "

"At least--" protested Serge. 

"Good! There you are refractory, " said the financier, laughingly, "and Ihave not finished. The day after your marriage you formed yourhousehold on a lavish footing; you gave splendid receptions; you boughtrace-horses; in short, you went the pace like a great lord. Undoubtedlyit costs a lot of money to keep up such an establishment. As you spentwithout counting the cost, you confounded the capital with the interest, so that at this moment you are three parts ruined. I don't think youwould care to change your mode of living, and it is too late in the dayto cut down expenses and exist on what remains? No. Well, to keep upyour present style you need at least a million francs every year. "

"You calculate like Cocker, " remarked Serge, smiling with someconstraint. 

"That is my business, " answered Herzog. "There are two ways by whichyou can obtain that million. The first is by making it up with yourmother-in-law, and consenting, for money, to live under her dominion. Iknow her, she will agree to this. "

"But, " said Serge, "I refuse to submit. "

"In that case you must get out of your difficulties alone. "

"And how?" inquired the Prince, with astonishment. 

Herzog looked at him seriously. 

"By entering on the path which I am ready to open up to you, " repliedHerzog, "and in which I will guide you. By going in for business. "

Serge returned Herzog's glance and tried to read his face, but found himimpenetrable. 

"To go into business one needs experience, and I have none. "

"Mine will suffice, " retorted the financier. 

"Or money, " continued the Prince, "and I have none, either. "

"I don't ask money from you. I offer you some. "

"What, then, do I bring into the concern?"

"The prestige of your name, and your relations with Madame Desvarennes. "

The Prince answered, haughtily:

"My relations are personal, and I doubt whether they will serve you. Mymother-in-law is hostile, and will do nothing for me. As to my name, itdoes not belong to me, it belongs to those who bore it nobly before me. "

"Your relations will serve me, " said Herzog. "I am satisfied. Yourmother-in-law cannot get out of your being her daughter's husband, andfor that you are worth your weight in gold. As to your name, it isjust because it has been nobly borne that it is valuable. Thank yourancestors, therefore, and make the best of the only heritage they leftyou. Besides, if you care to examine things closely, your ancestors willnot have reason to tremble in their graves. What did they do formerly?They imposed taxes on their vassals and extorted money from thevanquished. We financiers do the same. Our vanquished are thespeculators; our vassals the shareholders. And what a superioritythere is about our proceedings! There is no violence. We persuade; wefascinate; and the money flows into our coffers. What do I say? Theybeseech us to take it. We reign without contest. We are princes, tooprinces of finance. We have founded an aristocracy as proud and aspowerful as the old one. Feudality of nobility no longer exists; it hasgiven way to that of money. "

Serge laughed. He saw what Herzog was driving at. 

"Your great barons of finance are sometimes subject to executions, " saidhe. 

"Were not Chalais, Cinq-Mars, Biron, and Montmorency executed?" askedHerzog, with irony. 

"That was on a scaffold, " replied Panine. 

"Well! the speculator's scaffold is the Bourse! But only small dabblersin money succumb; the great ones are safe from danger. They aresupported in their undertakings by such powerful and numerous intereststhat they cannot fail without involving public credit; evengovernments are forced to come to their aid. One of these powerful andindestructible enterprises I have dreamed of grafting on to the EuropeanCredit Company, the Universal Credit Company. Its very name is aprogramme in itself. To stretch over the four quarters of the globe likean immense net, and draw into its meshes all financial speculators: suchis its aim. Nobody will be able to withstand us. I am offering you greatthings, but I dream of still greater. I have ideas. You will see themdeveloped, and will profit by them, if you join my fortunes. You areambitious, Prince. I guessed it; but your ambition hitherto has beensatisfied with small things--luxurious indulgences and triumphs ofelegance! What are these worth to what I can give you? The sphere inwhich you move is narrow. I will make it immense. You will no longerreign over a small social circle, you will rule a world. "

Serge, more affected than he cared to show, tried to banter. 

"Are you repeating the prologue to Faust?" asked he. "Where is yourmagical compact? Must I sign it?"

"Not at all. Your consent is sufficient. Look into the business, studyit at your leisure, and measure the results; and then if it suit you, you can sign a deed of partnership. Then in a few years you may possessa fortune surpassing all that you have dreamed of. "

The financier remained silent. Serge was weighing the question. Herzogwas happy; he had shown himself to all Paris in company with MadameDesvarennes's son-in-law. He had already realized one of his projects. The carriage was just passing down the Champs Elysees. The weather waslovely, and in the distance could be seen the trees of the Tuileries andthe different monuments of the Place de la Concorde bathed in blue mist. Groups of horsemen were cantering along the side avenues. Long files ofcarriages were rolling rapidly by with well-dressed ladies. The capitaldisplayed at that hour all the splendor of its luxury. It was Paris inall its strength and gayety. 

Herzog stretched out his hand, and calling the Prince's attention to thesight, said:

"There's your empire!"

Then, looking at him earnestly, he asked:

"Is it agreed?"

Serge hesitated for a moment, and then bowed his head, saying:

"It is agreed. "

Herzog pulled the check-string communicating with the coachman andalighted. 

"Good-by, " said he to Panine. 

He slipped into his own carriage, which had followed closely behind, anddrove off. 

From that day, even Jeanne had a rival. The fever of speculation hadseized on Serge; he had placed his little finger within the wheels andhe must follow--body, name, and soul. The power which this new gameexercised over him was incredible. It was quite different to the stupidgames at the club, always the same. On the Bourse, everything was new, unexpected, sudden, and formidable. The intensity of the feelings wereincreased a hundredfold, owing to the importance of the sums risked. 

It was really a splendid sight to see Herzog manipulating matters, maneuvering with a miraculous dexterity millions of francs. And then thefield for operations was large. Politics, the interests of nations, werethe mainsprings which impelled the play, and the game assumed diplomaticvastness and financial grandeur. 

From his private office Herzog issued orders, and whether his abilitywas really extraordinary, or whether fortune exceptionally favored him, success was certain. Serge, from the first week, realized considerablesums. This brilliant success threw him in a state of great excitement. He believed everything that Herzog said to him as if it were gospel. Hesaw the world bending under the yoke which he was about to impose uponit. People working and toiling every day were doing so for him alone, and like one of those kings who had conquered the world, he pictured allthe treasures of the earth laid at his feet. From that time he lostthe sense of right and wrong. He admitted the unlikely, and found theimpossible quite natural. He was a docile tool in the hands of Herzog. 

The rumor of this unforeseen change in Panine's circumstances soonreached Madame Desvarennes's ears. The mistress was frightened, and sentfor Cayrol, begging him to remain a director of the European Credit, inorder to watch the progress of the new affair. With her practical commonsense, she foresaw disasters, and even regretted that Serge had notconfined himself to cards and reckless living. 

Cayrol was most uneasy, and made a confidant of his wife, who, deeplytroubled, told Panine the fears his friends entertained on his account. The Prince smiled disdainfully, saying these fears were the effectof plebeian timidity. The mistress understood nothing of greatspeculations, and Cayrol was a narrow-minded banker! He knew what he wasdoing. The results of his speculations were mathematical. So far theyhad not disappointed his hopes. The great Universal Credit Company, ofwhich he was going to be a director, would bring him in such an immensefortune that he would be independent of Madame Desvarennes. 

Jeanne, terrified at this blind confidence, tried to persuade him. Sergetook her in his arms, kissed her, and banished her fears. 

Madame Desvarennes had forbidden her people to tell Micheline anythingof what was going on, as she wished her to remain in perfect ignorance. By a word, the mistress, if she could not have prevented the folliesof which Serge was guilty, could, at least, have spared herself and herdaughter. It would have only been necessary to reveal his behavior andbetrayal to Micheline, and to provoke a separation. If the house ofDesvarennes were no longer security for Panine, his credit would fall. Disowned by his mother-in-law, and publicly given up by her, he wouldbe of no use to Herzog, and would be promptly thrown over by him. Themistress did not wish her daughter to know the heartrending truth. Shewould not willingly cause her to shed tears, and therefore preferredrisking ruin. 

Micheline, too, tried to hide her troubles from her mother. She knewtoo well that Serge would have the worst of it if he got into her blackbooks. With the incredible persistence of a loving heart, she hoped towin back Serge. Thus a terrible misunderstanding caused these two womento remain inactive and silent, when, by united efforts, they might, perhaps, have prevented dangers. 

The great speculation was already being talked about. Herzog was boldlyplacing his foot on the summit whereon the five or six demigods, whoruled the stock market, were firmly placed. The audacious encroachmentsof this newcomer had vexed these formidable potentates, and already theyhad decided secretly his downfall because he would not let them share inhis profits. 

One morning, the Parisians, on awakening, found the walls placarded withnotices advertising the issue of shares in the Universal Credit Company, and announcing the names of the directors, among which appeared thatof the Prince. Some were members of the Legion d'Honneur; others recentmembers of the Cabinet Council, and Prefets retired into private life. Alist of names to dazzle the public, but all having a weak point. 

This created a great sensation in the business world. MadameDesvarennes's son-in-law was on the board. It was a good speculation, then? People consulted the mistress, who found herself somewhat in adilemma; either she must disown her son-in-law, or speak well of theaffair. Still she did not hesitate, for she was loyal and honest aboveall things. She declared the speculation was a poor one, and did all shecould to prevent any of her friends becoming shareholders. 

The issue of shares was disastrous. The great banks remained hostile, and capitalists were mistrustful. Herzog landed a few million francs. Doorkeepers and cooks brought him their savings. He covered expenses. But it was no use advertising and puffing in the newspapers, as a wordhad gone forth which paralyzed the speculation. Ugly rumors were afloat. Herzog's German origin was made use of by the bankers, who whisperedthat the aim of the Universal Credit Company was exclusively political. It was to establish branch banks in every part of the world to furtherthe interests of German industry. Further, at a given moment, Germanymight have need of a loan in case of war, and the Universal CreditCompany would be there to supply the necessary aid to the great militarynation. 

Herzog was not a man to be put down without resisting, and he madesupreme efforts to float his undertaking. He caused a number of unissuedshares to be sold on 'Change, and had them bought up by his own men, thus creating a fictitious interest in the company. In a few days theshares rose and were at a premium, simply through the jobbery to whichHerzog lent himself. 

Panine was little disposed to seek for explanations, and, besides, had such unbounded faith in his partner that he suspected nothing. Heremained in perfect tranquillity. He had increased his expenditure, andhis household was on a royal footing. Micheline's sweetness emboldenedhim; he no longer took the trouble of dissimulating, and treated hisyoung wife with perfect indifference. 

Jeanne and Serge met every day at the little house in the AvenueMaillot. Cayrol was too much engaged with the new anxieties which Herzogcaused him, to look after his wife, and left her quite free to amuseherself. Besides, he had not the least suspicion. Jeanne, like allguilty women, overwhelmed him with kind attentions, which the good manmistook for proofs of love. The fatal passion was growing daily strongerin the young woman's heart, and she would have found it impossible tohave given up her dishonorable happiness with Panine. She felt herselfcapable of doing anything to preserve her lover. 

Jeanne had already said, "Oh! if we were but free!" And they formedprojects. They would go away to Lake Lugano, and, in a villa hiddenby trees and shrubs, would enjoy the pleasures of being indissolublyunited. The woman was more eager than the man in giving way to thesevisions of happiness. She sometimes said, "What hinders us now? Letus go. " But Serge, prudent and discreet, even in the most affectionatemoments, led Jeanne to take a more sensible view. What was the use of ascandal? Did they not belong to each other?

Then the young woman reproached him for not loving her as much as sheloved him. She was tired of dissimulating; her husband was an objectof horror to her, and she had to tell him untruths and submit to hiscaresses which were revolting to her. Serge calmed her with a kiss, andbade her wait awhile. 

Pierre, rendered anxious on hearing that Serge had joined Herzog inhis dangerous financial speculations, had left his mines and had justarrived. The letters which Micheline addressed to the friend of heryouth, her enforced confidant in trouble, were calm and resigned. Full of pride, she had carefully hidden from Pierre the cause of hertroubles. He was the last person by whom she would like to be pitied, and her letters had represented Serge as repentant and full of goodfeeling. Marechal, for similar reasons, had kept his friend in thedark. He feared Pierre's interference, and he wished to spare MadameDesvarennes the grief of seeing her adopted son quarreling with herson-in-law. 

But the placards announcing the establishment of the Universal CreditCompany made their way into the provinces, and one morning Pierre foundsome stuck on the walls of his establishment. Seeing the name of Panine, and not that of Cayrol, Pierre shuddered. The unpleasant ideas whichhe experienced formerly when Herzog was introduced to the Desvarennesrecurred to his mind. He wrote to the mistress to ask what was goingon, and not receiving an answer, he started off without hesitation forParis. 

He found Madame Desvarennes in a terrible state of excitement. Theshares had just fallen a hundred and twenty francs. A panic had ensued. The affair was considered as absolutely lost, and the shareholders wereaggravating matters by wanting to sell out at once. 

Savinien was just coming away from the mistress's room. He wanted to seethe downfall of the Prince, whom he had always hated, looking upon himas a usurper of his own rights upon the fortune of the Desvarennes. He began lamenting to his aunt, when she turned upon him with unusualharshness, and he felt bound as he said, laughing, to leave the"funereal mansion. "

Cayrol, as much interested in the affairs of the Prince as if they werehis own, went backward and forward between the Rue Saint-Dominique andthe Rue Taitbout, pale and troubled, but without losing his head. Hehad already saved the European Credit Company by separating it sixweeks before from the Universal Credit Company, notwithstanding MadameDesvarennes's supplications to keep them together, in the hope that theone would save the other. But Cayrol, practical, clear, and implacable, had refused, for the first time, to obey Madame Desvarennes. He actedwith the resolution of a captain of a vessel, who throws overboard aportion of the cargo to save the ship, the crew, and the rest of themerchandise. He did well, and the European Credit was safe. The shareshad fallen a little, but a favorable reaction was already showingitself. The name of Cayrol, and his presence at the head of affairs, hadreassured the public, and the shareholders gathered round him, passing avote of confidence. 

The banker, devoted to his task, next sought to save Panine, who was atthat very moment robbing him of his honor and happiness in the house ofthe Avenue Maillot. 

Pierre, Cayrol, and Madame Desvarennes met in Marechal's private office. Pierre declared that it was imperative to take strong measures andto speak to the Prince. It was the duty of the mistress to enlightenPanine, who was no doubt Herzog's dupe. 

Madame Desvarennes shook her head sadly. She feared that Serge was nota dupe but an accomplice. And what could she tell him? Let him ruinhimself! He would not believe her. She knew how he received her adviceand bore her remonstrances. 

An explanation between her and Serge was impossible, and herinterference would only hurry him into the abyss. 

"Well, then, I will speak to him, " said Pierre, resolutely. 

"No, " said Madame Desvarennes, "not you! Only one here can tell himefficaciously what he must hear, and that is Cayrol. Let us above allthings keep guard over our words and our behavior. On no account mustMicheline suspect anything. "

Thus, at the most solemn moments, when fortune and honor, perhaps, werecompromised, the mother thought of her daughter's welfare and happiness. 

Cayrol went up to the Prince's rooms. He had just come in, and wasopening his letters, while having a cigarette in the smoking-room. Adoor, covered by curtains, led to a back stair which opened into thecourtyard. Cayrol had gone up that way, feeling sure that by so doing hewould not meet Micheline. 

On seeing Jeanne's husband, Serge rose quickly. He feared that Cayrolhad discovered everything, and instinctively stepped backward. Thebanker's manner soon undeceived him. He was serious, but not in a rage. He had evidently come on business. 

"Well, my dear Cayrol, " said the Prince, gayly, "what good fortune hasbrought you here?"

"If it is fortune, it is certainly not good fortune, " answered thebanker, gravely. "I wish to have some talk with you, and I shall begrateful if you will listen patiently. "

"Oh! oh!" said Serge. "How serious you are. You have some heavy paymentson hand, and want a little help, eh? I will speak to Herzog. "

Cayrol looked at the Prince in amazement. So he did not suspectanything? Such carelessness and negligence frightened him. The bankerresolved to proceed clearly, and without beating about the bush; to doaway with such blind confidence a thunderbolt was necessary. 

"I have not come about my business, but yours, " returned Cayrol. "TheUniversal Credit Company is on the eve of disaster; there is still timefor you to withdraw safely and soundly from the sinking wreck. I bringyou the means. "

Serge laughed. 

"Thank you, Cayrol; you are very kind, my friend. I know your intentionsare good, but I don't believe a word you are saying. You have comefrom Madame Desvarennes. You are both agreed that I shall give up theUniversal Credit, but I will not yield to any pressure. I know what I amdoing. Be easy. "

And quietly lighting another cigarette, he gracefully puffed thesmoke toward the ceiling. Cayrol did not trouble to argue, but tooka newspaper from his pocket and handed it to Panine, simply saying, "Read!"

It was an article in a reliable financial paper prophesying thefailure of the Universal Credit Company, and basing its statements onirrefutable calculations. Serge took the paper and looked over it. Heturned pale and crushed it in his hand. 

"What infamy!" cried he. "I know our adversaries are enraged. Yes, theyknow that our new company is destined to crush them in the future, andthey are doing all they can to run us aground. Jealousy! Envy! There isno other foundation for these rumors, and they are unworthy a seriousman's attention. "

"There is neither envy nor jealousy. All is true, " said Cayrol. "Youwill admit that I am your sincere friend? Well, I swear to you thatthe situation is terrible, and you must resign your directorship of theUniversal Credit without loss of time. There's not a moment to lose. Sitdown and write your resignation. "

"Do you think I am a child to be led by the nose like that?" asked thePrince, in a passion. "If you are sincere, Cayrol, as I wish to believe, I also think you are a fool. You don't understand! As to drawing out ofthe company, never! I have a lot of money invested in it. "

"Well, lose your money, Madame Desvarennes will pay you back. At leastyou can save your name. "

"Ah, I see you are conniving with her!" exclaimed the Prince, loudly. "Don't tell me another word, I don't believe you. I shall go straightto the office, and I will speak to Herzog. We will take measures toprosecute the papers for libel if they dare to publish these untruths. "

Cayrol saw that nothing would convince Panine. He hoped that aninterview with Herzog would enlighten him. He left the matter to chance, as reasoning was of no avail, and went down to the mistress. 

Serge drove to the Universal Credit Company. It was the first day in thenew offices. Herzog had furnished them splendidly, thinking that thiswould give the shareholders a high opinion of the undertaking. How couldthey have any doubts when they saw such splendid furniture and largeoffices? How could they refuse to place their money in the hands ofspeculators that could cover their floors with such soft carpets? Theporters, with their dark blue and red cloth liveries, and buttonswith the company's monogram on them, answered inquiries with haughtycondescension. Everything foretold success. It was in the air. You couldhear the cashier shovelling heaps of gold. The people who had placed theUniversal Credit Company on such a footing were either very powerful orvery impudent. 

Serge walked in, as he would have done at home, with his hat on, amid anumber of small shareholders, who had come full of anxiety after readingthe accounts in the newspapers, and who felt full of confidence afterseeing the splendor of the place. Panine reached Herzog's office, butwhen about to open the door, loud voices struck his ear. The financierwas arguing with a director, and Panine listened. 

"The speculation is safe and sure, " Herzog was saying. "The shares arelow, I know, because I have ceased to keep them up. I have given ordersin London, Vienna, and Berlin, and we are buying up all shares thatare offered in the market. I shall then run the shares up again, and weshall realize an enormous sum. It is most simple. "

"But it is shady, " said the other voice. 

"Why? I defend myself as I am attacked. The great banks seek todeteriorate my stock. I buy in, and take it out of my adversaries. Is itnot just and lawful?"

Panine breathed freely and felt reassured. The depreciation was causedby Herzog; he had just said so. There was nothing to fear then. It wasjust a trick of Herzog's, and the company would come out brighter thanever. 

Serge went in. 

"Oh! here's Prince Panine, " said Herzog. "Ask him what he thinks of thematter. I defer to his judgment. "

"I don't want to know anything, " said Serge. "I have full confidence inyou, my dear manager, and our business will prosper in your hands, I amsure. Besides, I know the manoeuvres of our opponents, and I think everyfinancial means justifiable to answer them. "

"Ah! What did I say to you a few minutes ago?" cried Herzog, addressinghis questioner in a tone of triumph. "Let me act and you will see. Besides, I don't want to keep you against your will, " he added, harshly. "You are at liberty to withdraw from us if you like. "

The other protested that what he had said was for the best interests ofall concerned. He did not dream of leaving the company; on the contrary, they might rely on him. He appreciated the experience and ability ofHerzog too well to separate his fortune from his friend's. And, shakinghands with the financier, he took his leave. 

"Come! What is all this clamor in the newspapers?" asked Serge, whenhe found himself alone with Herzog. "Do you know that the articlespublished are very perfidious?"

"All the more perfidious because they are founded on truth, " said thefinancier, coldly. 

"What do you mean?" cried Serge, in alarm. 

"The truth. Do you think I am to tell you lies as I did to that idiotwho has just gone out? The Universal Credit has at this moment a screwloose. But patience! I have an idea, and in a fortnight the shares willhave doubled in value. I have a splendid scheme in hand which will killthe gas companies. It is a plan for lighting by magnesium. Its effectwill be startling. I shall publish sensational articles describing theinvention in the London and Brussels papers. Gas shares will fall verylow. I shall buy up all I can, and when I am master of the situation, I shall announce that the threatened gas companies are buying up theinvention. Shares will rise again, and I shall realize a goodly sum, which will be for the benefit of the Universal Credit. "

"But for such a formidable speculation foreign agents will requiresecurity?"

"I will offer it to them. I have here ten million francs' worth ofshares in the European Credit belonging to Cayrol. We will give thecashier a joint receipt for them. The speculation will last three days. It is safe, and when the result is achieved we will replace the shares, and take back the receipt. "

"But, " asked Serge, "is this plan of taking the shares which don'tbelong to us legal?"

"It is a transfer, " said Herzog, with simplicity. "Besides, don't forgetthat we have to do with Cayrol, that is to say with a partner. "

"Suppose we tell him of it, " insisted the Prince. 

"No! The deuce! We should have to explain everything to him. He knowswhat's what, and would find the idea too good, and want a share of thespoil. No! Sign that, and don't be alarmed. The sheep will be back inthe fold before the shepherd comes to count them. "

A dark presentiment crossed Serge's mind, and he was afraid. At thatmoment, when his fate was being decided, he hesitated to go deeper intothe rut where he had already been walking too long. He stood silent andundecided. Confused thoughts crowded his brain; his temples throbbed, and a buzzing noise sounded in his ears. But the thought of givingup his liberty, and again subjecting himself to Madame Desvarennes'sprotection was like the lash of a whip, and he blushed for havinghesitated. 

Herzog looked at him, and, smiling in a constrained way, said:

"You, too, may give up the affair if you like. If I share it with you itis because you are so closely allied to me. I don't so very much careto cut the pear in two. Don't think that I am begging of you to be mypartner! Do as you like. "

Serge caught hold of the paper and, having signed it, handed it to thefinancier. 

"All right, " said Herzog. "I shall leave to-night and be absentthree days. Watch the money market. You will see the results of mycalculations. "

And shaking hands with the Prince, Herzog went to the cashier to get thescrip and deposit the receipt. 

CHAPTER XIX. SIN GROWS BOLDER

There was a party at Cayrol's. In the drawing-rooms of the mansion inthe Rue Taitbout everything was resplendent with lights, and therewas quite a profusion of flowers. Cayrol had thought of postponingthe party, but was afraid of rousing anxieties, and like an actor who, though he has just lost his father, must play the following day, soCayrol gave his party and showed a smiling face, so as to prevent harmto his business. 

Matters had taken a turn for the worse during the last three days. Thebold stroke, to carry out which Herzog had gone to London so as to bemore secret, had been got wind of. The fall of the shares had nottaken place. Working with considerable sums of money, the loss onthe difference was as great as the gains would have been. The sharesbelonging to the European Credit Company had defrayed the cost of thegame. It was a disaster. Cayrol, in his anxiety, had applied for thescrip and had only found the receipt given to the cashier. Althoughthe transaction was most irregular, Cayrol had not said anything; but, utterly cast down, had gone to Madame Desvarennes to tell her of thefact. 

The Prince was in bed, pretending to be ill. His wife, happily ignorantof all that was going on, rejoiced secretly at his indisposition becauseshe was allowed to nurse him and have him all to herself. Panine, alarmed at the check they had experienced, was expecting Herzog withfeverish impatience, and to keep out of sight had chosen the privacy ofhis own room. 

Still, Cayrol had been allowed to see him, and with great circumspectiontold him that his non-appearance at the same time that Herzog was absentwas most fatal for the Universal Credit Company. It was absolutelynecessary that he should be seen in public. He must come to his party, and appear with a calm face. Serge promised to come, and had imposedon Micheline the heavy task of accompanying him to Jeanne's. It was thefirst time since her return from Nice that she had entered the house ofher husband's mistress. 

The concert was over, and a crowd of guests were coming from the largedrawing-room to the boudoir and little drawing-room. 

"The symphony is over. Ouf!" said Savinien, yawning. 

"You don't like music?" asked Marechal, with a laugh. 

"Yes, military music. But two hours of Schumann and Mendelssohn at highpressure is too much for one man. But I say, Marechal, what do you thinkof Mademoiselle Herzog's being at Cayrol's soiree. It is a little toostrong. "

"How so?"

"Why, the father has bolted, and the daughter is preparing a dance. Eachhas a different way of using their feet. "

"Very pretty, Monsieur Desvarennes, but I advise you to keep yourflashes of wit to yourself, " said Marechal, seriously. "That may notsuit everybody. "

"Oh, Marechal, you, too, making a fuss!"

And turning on his heel, he went to the refreshment table. 

Prince and Princess Panine were just coming in. Micheline was smiling, and Serge was pale, though calm. Cayrol and Jeanne came toward them. Everybody turned to look at them. Jeanne, without embarrassment, shookhands with her friend. Cayrol bowed respectfully to Micheline. 

"Princess, " he said, "will you honor me by taking my arm? You are justin time, they are going to begin dancing. "

"Not myself, though, thank you, " replied Micheline, with a sad smile, "Iam still very weak, but I will look on. "

And on Cayrol's arm she entered the large drawing-room. Serge followedwith Jeanne. 

The festivities were at their height. The orchestra was playing awaltz, and in a whirl of silk and gauze the young people seemed to bethoroughly enjoying themselves. 

Suzanne Herzog was sitting alone near a window, in a simple white dress, and without a single ornament. Marechal had just approached her, and shehad welcomed him with a smile. 

"Are you not dancing to-night, Mademoiselle?" he asked. 

"I am waiting to be invited, " she answered, sadly, "and, like sisterAnne, I see nobody coming. There are ugly reports abroad about myfather's fortune, and the Argonauts are drawing off. "

"Will you give me a dance?" said Marechal. "I don't dance to perfection, never having practised much, but with a good will. "

"Thank you, Monsieur Marechal, I would rather talk. I am not verycheerful to-night, and, believe me, I only came because MadameDesvarennes wished it. I would rather have remained at home. Businesshas gone wrong with my father by what I can hear, for I don't know whatgoes on at the office. I feel more inclined to cry than to laugh. Notthat I regret the loss of money, you know; I don't care for it, but myfather must be in despair. "

Marechal listened silently to Suzanne, not daring to tell her what hethought of Herzog, and respected the real ignorance or willing blindnessof the young girl who did not doubt her father's loyalty. 

The Princess, leaning on Cayrol's arm, had just finished promenadinground the rooms, when she perceived Suzanne and, leaving the banker, came and seated herself beside her. Many of the guests looked at eachother and whispered words which Micheline did not hear, and if shehad heard would not have understood. "It is heroic!" some said. Othersanswered, "It is the height of impudence. "

The Princess was talking with Suzanne and was looking at her husbandwho, leaning against a door, was following Jeanne with his eyes. 

At a sign from Cayrol, Marechal left the room. The secretary joinedMadame Desvarennes, who had come with Pierre and had remained inCayrol's private office. During this party matters of moment were tobe discussed, and a consultation was about to take place between theinterested parties. On seeing Marechal enter, Madame only uttered oneword:

"Cayrol?"

"Here he is, " answered the secretary. 

Cayrol came in, hurriedly. 

"Well, " he asked, with great anxiety, "have you any news?"

"Pierre has just come from London, " answered the mistress. "What wefeared is true. Herzog, conjointly with my son-in-law, has made use ofthe ten millions belonging to the European Credit. "

"Do you think that Herzog has really bolted?" inquired Marechal. 

"No! he is too deep for that, " replied Cayrol. "He will return. He knowsthat in compromising the Prince it is as if he had compromised the firmof Desvarennes, therefore he is quite easy on the matter. "

"Can the one be saved without the other?" asked the mistress. 

"It is impossible. Herzog has so firmly bound up his interests withthose of the Prince that it will be necessary to extricate both or letboth perish together. "

"Well, we must save Herzog into the bargain, then!" said MadameDesvarennes, coldly. "But by what means?"

"These, " answered Cayrol. "The shares taken away by Herzog, under thesecurity of the Prince's signature, were deposited by the shareholders. When the Universal Credit removed to its new offices, these shares weretaken away by mistake. It will suffice to replace the scrip. I will giveback the receipt to the Prince and all trace of this deplorable affairwill be wiped out. "

"But the numbers of the shares will not be the same, " said MadameDesvarennes, accustomed to minute regularity in all operations. 

"We can explain the change by feigning a sale when they were high, andbuying them up when low. We will show a profit, and the shareholderswill not quarrel. Besides, I reserve the right of divulging Herzog'sfraud without implicating Panine, if the shareholders insist. Trust me, I will catch Herzog another time. It is my stupid confidence in thatman which has been partly the cause of this disaster. I will make yourbusiness mine and force him to shell out. I shall leave for Londonto-night, by the 1. 50 train. Promptness of action in such a case is thefirst step toward success. "

"Thank you, Cayrol, " said the mistress. "Have my daughter and the Princearrived?"

"Yes, Serge is calm; he has more power over himself than I could havebelieved. "

"What does it matter to him what is going on? Is it he who will feel theblow? No. He knows that I shall go on working to keep him in idlenessand maintain him in luxury. I may think myself lucky if he is reclaimedby this hard lesson, and does not again begin to rummage in otherpeople's safes, for then I should be unable to save him. "

The mistress rose and, with flashing eyes, walked up and down the room. 

"Oh, the wretch!" she said. "If ever my daughter ceases to come betweenhim and me!"

A terrible gesture finished the sentence. 

Cayrol, Marechal, and Pierre looked at each other. The same thoughtcame to their minds, dark and fearful. In a paroxysm of rage this fondmother, this energetic and passionate woman, would be capable of killingany one. 

"You remember what I told you one day, " murmured Marechal, approachingCayrol. 

"I would prefer the hatred of ten men to that of such a woman, " answeredCayrol. 

"Cayrol!" continued Madame Desvarennes, after a few moments ofmeditation, "the conduct of the business of which you spoke to us alittle while ago depends solely on you, does it not?"

"On me alone. "

"Do it at once, then, cost me what it may. Has it been noised abroad?"

"No one has the slightest suspicion. I have not mentioned it to a livingsoul, " said the banker--"except to my wife, " added he with a franknesswhich drew a smile from Pierre. "But my wife and I are one. "

"What did she say?" asked Madame Desvarenes, looking straight at Cayrol. 

"If I had been the person concerned, " he said, "she could not possiblyhave been more affected. She loves you so much, Madame, you and thosebelonging to you. She besought me to do all in my power to get thePrince out of this scrape. She had tears in her eyes: And, truly, ifI did not feel bound to serve you from gratitude I would do it for hersake and to give her pleasure. I was touched, I can assure you. Really, she has a heart!"

Marechal exchanged a look with Madame Desvarennes, who advanced towardthe banker, and shook him by the hand, saying:

"Cayrol, you are truly a good man!"

"I know it, " said Cayrol, smiling to hide his emotion, "and you may relyupon me. "

Micheline appeared on the threshold of the room. Through the half-opendoor the dancers could be seen passing to and fro, and the sound ofmusic floated in the air. 

"What has become of you, mamma? I hear that you have been here for morethan an hour. "

"I was talking on business matters with these gentlemen, " answeredMadame Desvarennes, smoothing from her brow the traces of her cares byan effort of will. "But you, dear, how do you feel? Are you not tired?"

"Not more so than usual, " replied Micheline, looking round to follow themovements of her husband, who was trying to reach Jeanne. 

"Why did you come to this party? It was unwise. "

"Serge wished me to come, and I did not care to let him come withoutme. "

"Eh! dear me!" exclaimed Madame Desvarennes. "Let him do what he likes. Men are savages. When you are ill it won't hurt him. "

"I am not ill, and I won't be, " resumed Micheline, warmly. "We are goingaway now. "

She motioned to Serge with her fan. Panine came to her. 

"You will take me home, won't you, Serge?"

"Certainly, dear one, " answered Serge. 

Jeanne, who was listening at a distance, raised her hand to her foreheadas a sign that she wanted him. A feeling of surprise came over thePrince, and he did not understand what she meant. Micheline had seen thesign. A deadly pallor spread over her features, and a cold perspirationbroke out on her forehead. She felt so ill that she could have criedout. It was the first time she had seen Serge and Jeanne togethersince the dreadful discovery at Nice. She had avoided witnessingtheir meeting, feeling uncertain of herself, and fearing to lose herself-control. But seeing the two lovers before her, devouring each otherwith their looks, and making signs to each other, made her feel mostterribly jealous and angry. 

Serge had decided to obey the imperious signs which Jeanne made to him, and turning toward his wife, said:

"I remember now, my dear, that before going home I must call at theclub. I promised, and cannot put it off. Excuse my not going with you, and ask your mother to accompany you. "

"Very well, " said Micheline, in a trembling voice. "I will ask her. Youare not going just yet?"

"In a moment. "

"I, too, shall leave in a moment. "

The young wife did not want to lose one detail of the horrible comedybeing played under her very eyes. She remained to learn, unawares, thereason for which Jeanne kept her husband. 

Not thinking that he was watched, Serge had gone across to Jeanne, andaffecting a smile, inquired:

"What is the matter?"

"Serious news. " And she explained that she must speak to her lover thatevening. 

"Where?" Serge asked, with astonishment. 

"Here, " answered Jeanne. 

"But your husband?" the Prince said. 

"Is leaving in an hour. Our guests will not remain late. Go to thegarden, and wait in the pavilion. The door of the back stairs leading tomy dressing-room will be open. When everybody has gone, come up. "

"Take care; we are observed, " said Serge, uneasily. 

And they began to laugh with affectation and talked aloud aboutfrivolous things, as if nothing serious were occupying their thoughts. Cayrol had come back again. He went up to Madame Desvarennes, who wastalking with her daughter, and, full of business, thoughtlessly said:

"I will telegraph you as soon as I reach London. "

"Are you going away?" inquired Micheline, a light dawning on her mind. 

"Yes, " said Cayrol; "I have an important matter to settle. "

"And when do you start?" continued Micheline, in such a changed voicethat her mother was frightened. 

"In a moment, " answered the banker. "Allow me to leave you. I haveseveral orders to give. "

And leaving the boudoir, he regained the little drawing-room. 

Micheline, with clinched hands and fixed gaze, was saying to herself:

"She will be alone to-night, and has asked him to come to her. He toldme an untruth about his having to go to the club. He is going to seeher!"

And passing her hand across her brow, as if to drive away an unpleasantthought, the young wife remained silent, dismayed and crushed. 

"Micheline, what is the matter with you?" asked Madame Desvarennes, seizing her daughter's hand, which was icy cold. 

"Nothing, " stammered Micheline. 

"You are ill, I see. Come, let us go home. Come and kiss Jeanne--"

"I!" cried Micheline, with horror, instinctively recoiling as ifdreading some impure contact. 

Madame Desvarennes became suddenly cold and calm. She foresaw a terriblerevelation, and observing her daughter narrowly, said:

"Why do you cry out when I speak of your kissing Jeanne? Whatever is thematter?"

Micheline grasped her mother's arm, and pointed to Serge and Jeanne, whowere in the little drawing-room, laughing and talking, surrounded by agroup of people, yet alone. 

"Look at them!" she cried. 

"What do you mean?" exclaimed the mother in agony. She read the truth inher daughter's eyes. 

"You know--" she began. 

"That he is her lover, " cried Micheline, interrupting her. "Don't yousee that I am dying through it?" she added, sobbing bitterly and fallinginto her mother's arms. 

The mistress carried her as if she had been a child into Cayrol'sprivate office, and shut the door. Then, kneeling beside the couch onwhich Micheline was stretched, she gave vent to her grief. She beggedher daughter to speak to her, and warmed her hands with kisses; then, seeing her still cold and motionless, she was frightened, and wanted tocall for help. 

"No; be quiet!" murmured Micheline, recovering. "Let no one know. Iought to have held my peace; but I have suffered so much I could nothelp myself. 

"My life is blasted, you see. Take me away; save me from this infamy!Jeanne, my sister, and Serge. Oh! make me forget it! For pity's sake, mamma, you who are so strong, you who have always done what you wished, take from my heart all the pain that is there!"

Madame Desvarennes, overcome by such a load of grief, lost command ofherself, and, quite brokenhearted, began to cry and moan. 

"O God! Micheline, my poor child! you were suffering so and did not tellme. Oh! I knew you no longer trusted your old mother. And I stupidly didnot guess it! I said to myself, at least she knows nothing about it, andsacrificed everything to keep the knowledge of their wrong-doing fromyou. Don't cry any more, darling, you will break my heart. I, who wouldhave given up everything in the world to see you happy! Oh, I have lovedyou too much! How I am punished!"

"It is I who am punished, " said Micheline, sobbing, "for not obeyingyou. Ah! children ought always to heed their mother. She divines thedanger. Is it not too horrible, mamma? I, who have sacrificed everythingfor him, to think that he does not love me, and never will love me!What will my life be without confidence, hope, or affection? I am toounhappy. It would be better to die!"

"Die! you!" cried her mother, whose eyes, wet with tears, dried in amoment, as if by an inward fire. "Die! Come, don't talk such nonsense!Because a man treats you with scorn and betrays you? Are men worth dyingfor? No, you shall live, my darling, with your old mother. You shallhave a deed of separation from your husband. "

"And he will be free, " exclaimed Micheline, angrily. "He will go onloving her! Oh! I cannot bear that thought. Do you know, what I am goingto tell you seems awful. I love him so much, that I would rather see himdead than unfaithful. "

Madame Desvarennes was struck, and remained silent. Serge dead! Thatidea had already occurred to her as a dream of deliverance. It cameupon her peremptorily, violently, irresistibly. She repelled it with aneffort. 

"I can never think of him but as vile and odious, " continued Micheline. "Every day his sin will seem more dastardly and his hypocrisy more base. There, a little while ago, he was smiling; and do you know why? BecauseCayrol is going away, and during his absence Serge will return heretonight. "

"Who told you?"

"I read it in his joyful looks. I love him. He cannot hide anything fromme. A traitor to me, and a traitor toward his friend, that is the manwhom--I am ashamed to own it--I love!"

"Compose yourself! Someone is coming, " said Madame Desvarennes, and atthe same time the door opened and Jeanne appeared, followed by Marechal, who was anxious at their disappearance. 

"Is Micheline ill?" inquired Madame Cayrol, coming forward. 

"No; it is nothing. Just a little fatigue, " said Madame Desvarennes. "Marechal, give my daughter your arm, and take her to her carriage. Ishall be down in a minute. "

And holding Jeanne by the hand to prevent her following Micheline, sheadded:

"Stay; I have something to say to you. "

Jeanne looked surprised. Madame Desvarennes was silent for a moment. Shewas thinking about Serge coming there that night. She had only to sayone word to Cayrol to prevent his going away. The life of this wretchwas entirely in her hands then! But Jeanne! Was she going to ruin her?Had she the right thus to destroy one who had struggled and had defendedherself? Would it be just? Jeanne had been led on against her will. Shemust question her. If the poor girl were suffering, if she repented, shemust spare her. 

Madame Desvarennes, having thus made up her mind, turned toward Jeannewho was waiting. 

"It is a long time since I have seen you, my dear, and I find you happyand smiling. It is the first time since your marriage that you haveseemed so happy. "

Jeanne looked at the mistress without answering. In these words shedetected irony. 

"You have found peace, " continued Madame Desvarennes, lookingsteadfastly at Jeanne with her piercing eyes. "You see, my dear, whenyou have a clear conscience--for you have nothing to reproach yourselfwith?"

Jeanne saw in this sentence a question and not an affirmation. Sheanswered, boldly:

"Nothing!"

"You know that I love you, and would be most lenient, " continued MadameDesvarennes, sweetly, "and that you might safely confide in me!"

"I have nothing to fear, having nothing to tell, " said Jeanne. 

"Nothing?" repeated the mistress, with emphasis. 

"Nothing, " affirmed Jeanne. 

Madame Desvarennes once more looked at her adopted daughter as if shewould read her very soul. She found her quite calm. 

"Very well, then!" said she, hastily walking toward the door. 

"Are you going already?" asked Jeanne, offering her brow to MadameDesvarennes's lips. 

"Yes, good-by!" said the latter, with an icy kiss. 

Jeanne, without again turning round, went into the drawing-room. At thesame moment, Cayrol, in a travelling-coat, entered the office, followedby Pierre. 

"Here I am, quite ready, " said the banker to Madame Desvarennes. "Haveyou any new suggestion to make to me, or anything else to say?"

"Yes, " replied Madame Desvarennes, in a stern voice which made Cayrolstart. 

"Then make haste. I have only a moment to spare, and you know the trainwaits for no one. "

"You will not go!"

Cayrol, in amazement, answered:

"Do you mean it? Your interests are at stake yonder. "

"Your honor is in danger here, " cried the mistress, vehemently. 

"My honor!" repeated Cayrol, starting back. "Madame, do you know whatyou are saying?"

"Ay!" answered Madame Desvarennes. "And do you remember what I promisedyou? I undertook to warn you, myself, if ever the day came when youwould be threatened. "

"Well?" questioned Cayrol, turning quite livid. 

"Well! I keep my promise. If you wish to know who your rival is, comehome to-night. "

Some inaudible words rattled in Cayrol's throat. 

"A rival! in my house! Can Jeanne be guilty? Do you know, if it is trueI will kill them both!"

"Deal with them as your conscience dictates, " said Madame Desvarennes. "I have acted according to mine. "

Pierre, hitherto dumb with horror at the scene of which he had been awitness, shook off his stupor, and going up to Madame Desvarennes, said:

"Madame, do you know that what you have just done is frightful!"

"How? That man will be acting within his rights the same as I am. Theyare seeking to take away his wife, and they are killing my daughter, anddishonoring me! We are defending ourselves! Woe to those who are guiltyof the crime!"

Cayrol had fallen, as if thunderstruck, on a chair, with haggardeyes; his voice was gone, and he looked the image of despair. MadameDesvarennes's words came back to him like the refrain of a hated song. To himself he kept repeating, without being able to chase away the onehaunting thought: "Her lover, to-night, at your house!" He felt as ifhe were going mad. He was afraid he should not have time to wreak hisvengeance. He made a terrible effort, and, moaning with grief, he arose. 

"Take care!" said Pierre. "Here's your wife. "

Cayrol eyed Jeanne, who was approaching. Burning tears came to his eyes. He murmured:

"She, with a look so pure, and a face so calm! Is it possible?"

He nodded a farewell to Pierre and Madame Desvarennes, who were leaving, and recovering himself, advanced to meet Jeanne. 

"Are you off?" she inquired. "You know you have no time to lose!"

Cayrol shuddered. She seemed anxious to get rid of him. 

"I have still a few minutes to spend with you, " he said, with emotion. "You see, Jeanne, I am sad at going away alone. It is the first time Ihave left you. In a moment our guests will be gone--I beg of you, comewith me!"

Jeanne smiled. "But you see, dear, I am in evening dress. "

"The night of our marriage I brought you away from Cernay likethat. Wrap yourself up in your furs, and come! Give me this proof ofaffection. I deserve it. I am not a bad man--and I love you so!"

Jeanne frowned. This pressing vexed her. 

"This is childish, " she said. "You will return the day after tomorrow, and I am tired. Have some pity for me. "

"You refuse?" asked Cayrol, becoming gloomy and serious. 

Jeanne touched his face slightly with her white hand. 

"Come! Don't leave me in a temper! You won't miss me much, you willsleep all the way. Good-by!"

Cayrol kissed her; in a choking voice, he said:

"Good-by!"

And he left her. 

Jeanne's face brightened, as she stood listening for a moment and heardthe carriage which contained her husband rolling away. Uttering a sighof relief, she murmured:

"At last!"

CHAPTER XX. THE CRISIS

Jeanne had just taken off her ball-dress to put on a dressing-gown ofOriental cloth richly embroidered with silk flowers. Leaning her elbowson the mantelpiece, and breathing heavily, she was waiting. Her maidcame in, bringing a second lamp. The additional light displayed the richwarm hangings of ruby plush embroidered in dull gold. The bed seemed onemass of lace. 

"Has everybody gone?" asked Jeanne, pretending to yawn. 

"Messieurs Le Brede and Du Tremblay, the last guests, are just puttingon their overcoats, " answered the maid. "But Monsieur Pierre Delaruehas come back, and is asking whether Madame will speak with him for amoment. "

"Monsieur Delarue?" repeated Jeanne, with astonishment. 

"He says he has something important to say to Madame. "

"Where is he?" asked Jeanne. 

"There, in the gallery. The lights were being put out in thedrawing-room. "

"Well, show him in. "

The maid went out. Jeanne, much puzzled, asked herself, what could havebrought Pierre back? It must certainly be something very important. Shehad always felt somewhat awed in Pierre's presence. At that moment theidea of being face to face with the young man was most distressing toher. 

A curtain was lifted and Pierre appeared. He remained silent andconfused at the entrance of the room, his courage had deserted him. 

"Well, " said Jeanne, with assumed stiffness, "whatever is the matter, myfriend?"

"The matter is, my dear Jeanne, " began Pierre, "that--"

But the explanation did not seem so very easy to give, for he stoppedand could not go on. 

"That?" repeated Madame Cayrol. 

"I beg your pardon, " resumed Pierre. "I am greatly embarrassed. Incoming here I obeyed a sudden impulse. I did not think of the manner inwhich I should tell you what I have to say, and I see that I shall haveto run a great risk of offending you. "

Jeanne assumed a haughty air. 

"Well, but, my dear friend, if what you have to say is so difficult, don't say it. "

"Impossible!" retorted Pierre. "My silence would cause irreparablemischief. In mercy, Jeanne, make my task easier! Meet me half way! Youhave projects for to-night which are known. Danger threatens you. Takecare!"

Jeanne shuddered. But controlling herself, she answered, laughingnervously:

"What rubbish are you talking about? I am at home, surrounded by myservants, and I have nothing to fear. I beg of you to believe me. "

"You deny it!" exclaimed Pierre. "I expected as much. But you are onlytaking useless trouble. Come, Jeanne, I am the friend of your childhood;you have no reason to fear aught from me. I am only trying to be ofuse to you. You must know that, by my coming here, I know all. Jeanne, listen to me!"

"Are you mad?" interrupted the young woman, proudly, "or are you takingpart in some absurd joke?"

"I am in my right mind, unfortunately for you!" said Pierre, roughly, seeing that Jeanne refused to believe him. "And there is no joke in thematter. Everything is true, serious and terrible! Since you compel me tosay things which may be unpalatable, they must out. Prince Panine is inyour house, or he soon will be. Your husband, whom you think far away, is within call, perhaps, and will come and take you unawares. Is notthat a serious matter?"

A frown overspread her face, and in an ungovernable rage she steppedforward, determined not to give in, and exclaimed:

"Go away! or I shall call for assistance!"

"Don't call, it would look bad!" resumed Pierre, calmly. "On thecontrary, let the servants get out of the way, and get the Prince to goif he be here, or if he has not yet arrived, prevent his coming in. Solong as I remain here you will dissimulate your fear and will not takeany precautions. I will leave you, then. Adieu, Jeanne! Believe that Iwished to render you a service, and be sure that when I have crossed thethreshold of this door I shall have forgotten everything that I may havesaid. "

Pierre bowed, and, lifting the heavy curtain which hid the door leadingto the gallery, went out. 

He had hardly gone when the opposite door opened, and Serge entered theroom. The young woman rushed into his arms and whispered into his ear, with trembling lips:

"Serge, we are lost!"

"I was there, " answered Panine. "I heard all. "

"What shall we do?" cried Jeanne, terrified. 

"Go away at once. To remain here a moment longer is an imprudence. "

"And I, if I remain, what shall I say to Cayrol when he comes?"

"Your husband!" said Serge, bitterly. "He loves you, he will forgiveyou. "

"I know; but then we two shall be separated for ever. Is that what youdesire?"

"And what can I do?" cried Serge, in despair. "Everything around me isgiving way! Fortune, which has been my one aim in life, is escapingfrom me. The family which I have scorned is forsaking me. The friendshipwhich I have betrayed overwhelms me. There is nothing left to me. "

"And my love, my devotion?" exclaimed Jeanne, passionately. "Do youthink that I will leave you? We must go away. I asked you long ago. Youresisted; the moment has now come. Be easy! Madame Desvarennes will payand save your name. In exchange you will give her back her daughter. Youdon't care about her, because you love me. I am your real wife; she whoought to share your life. Well, I take back my rights. I pay for themwith my honor. I break all ties which could hold me back. I am yours, Serge! Our sin and misfortune will bind us more closely than any lawscould. "

"Think, that with me you will have to endure poverty, and, perhaps, misery, " said the Prince, moved by the young woman's infatuation. 

"My love will make you forget everything!"

"You will not feel regret or remorse?"

"Never, so long as you love me. "

"Come, then, " said the Prince, taking Jeanne in his arms. "And if lifeis too hard--"

"Well, " added Jeanne, finishing the sentence with sparkling eyes, "wewill seek refuge together in death! Come!"

Serge bolted the door, through which Pierre had passed, and which alonecommunicated with the other apartments. Then, taking his mistress by thehand, he went with her into the dressing-room. Jeanne threw a dark cloakround her shoulders, put a hat on her head, and without taking eithermoney, jewels, lace, or, in fact, anything that she had received fromCayrol, they went down the little back stairs. 

It was very dark. Jeanne did not take a light, as she did not care toattract attention, so they had to feel every step of the way as quietlyas possible, striving not to make the least noise, holding their breath, and with beating hearts. When they reached the bottom of the stairs, Jeanne stretched out her hand, and sought the handle of the door whichopened into the courtyard. She turned it, but the door would not open. She pushed, but it did not give way. Jeanne uttered a low groan. Sergeshook it vigorously, but it would not open. 

"It has been fastened on the outside, " he whispered. 

"Fastened?" murmured Jeanne, seized with fear. "Fastened, and by whom?"

Serge did not answer. The idea that Cayrol had done it came to his mindat once. The husband lying in wait, had seen him enter, and to preventhis escaping from his vengeance had cut off all means of retreating. 

Silently, they went upstairs again, into the room through thedressing-room. Jeanne took off her bonnet and cloak, and sank into anarmchair. 

"I must get away!" said Serge, with suppressed rage; and he walkedtoward the door of the gallery. 

"No! don't open that, " cried Jeanne, excitedly. 

And with a frightened look, she added:

"What if he were behind the door?"

At the same moment, as if Jeanne's voice had indeed evoked Cayrol, aheavy step was heard approaching along the gallery, a hand tried to openthe bolted door. Serge and Jeanne remained motionless, waiting. 

"Jeanne!" called the voice of Cayrol from the outside, soundingmournfully in the silence, "Jeanne, open!"

And with his fist he knocked imperatively on the woodwork. 

"I know you are there! Open, I say!" he cried, with increasing rage. "Ifyou don't open the door, I'll--"

"Go! I beseech you!" whispered Jeanne, in Panine's ear. "Go downstairsagain, and break open the door. You won't find any one there now. "

"Perhaps he has stationed some one there, " answered Serge. "Besides, Iwon't leave you here alone exposed to his violence. "

"You are not alone. I can hear you talking!" said Cayrol, besidehimself. "I shall break open this door!"

The husband made a tremendous effort. Under the pressure of his heavyweight the lock gave way. With a bound he was in the middle of the room. Jeanne threw herself before him; she no longer trembled. Cayrol tookanother step and fixed his glaring eyes on the man whom he sought, uttering a fearful oath. 

"Serge!" cried he. "I might have guessed it. It is not only money ofwhich you are robbing me, you villain!"

Panine turned horribly pale, and advanced toward Cayrol, despite Jeanne, who was clinging to him. 

"Don't insult me; it is superfluous, " said he. "My life belongs to you;you can take it. I shall be at your service whenever you please. "

Cayrol burst into a fearful laugh. 

"Ah! a duel! Come! Am I a gentleman? I am a plebeian! a rustic! acowherd! you know that! I have you now! I am going to smash you!"

He looked round the room as if seeking a weapon, and caught sight ofthe heavy fire-dogs. He caught up one with a cry of triumph, and, brandishing it like a club, rushed at Serge. 

More rapid than he, Jeanne threw herself before her lover. She stretchedout her arms, and with a sharp voice, and the look of a she-wolfdefending her cubs, "Keep behind me, " said she to Serge; "he loves me and will not dare tostrike!"

Cayrol had stopped. At these words he uttered a loud cry: "wretchedwoman! You first, then!"

Raising his weapon, he was about to strike, when his eyes met Jeanne's. The young woman was smiling, happy to die for her lover. Her pale facebeamed from out her black hair with weird beauty. Cayrol trembled. Thatlook which he had loved, would he never see it again? That rosy mouth, whose smile he cherished, would it be hushed in death? A thousandthoughts of happy days came to his mind. His arm fell. A bitter floodrushed from his heart to his eyes; the iron dropped heavily from hishand on to the floor, and the poor man, overcome, sobbing, and ashamedof his weakness, fell senseless on a couch. 

Jeanne did not utter a word. By a sign she showed Serge the door, which was open, and with a swollen heart she leaned on the mantelpiece, waiting for the unfortunate man, from whom she had received such a deepand sad proof of love, to come back to life. 

Serge had disappeared. 

CHAPTER XXI. "WHEN ROGUES FALL OUT"

The night seemed long to Madame Desvarennes. Agitated and feverish, she listened through the silence, expecting every moment to hear somefearful news. In fancy she saw Cayrol entering his wife's room like amadman, unawares. She seemed to hear a cry of rage, answered by a sighof terror; then a double shot resounded, the room filled with smoke, and, struck down in their guilty love, Serge and Jeanne rolled in death, interlaced in each other's arms, like Paolo and Francesca de Rimini, those sad lovers of whom Dante tells us. 

Hour after hour passed; not a sound disturbed the mansion. The Princehad not come in. Madame Desvarennes, unable to lie in bed, arose, andnow and again, to pass the time, stole on tiptoe to her daughter's room. Micheline, thoroughly exhausted with fatigue and emotion, had fallenasleep on her pillow, which was wet with tears. 

Bending over her, by the light of the lamp, the mistress gazed atMicheline's pale face, and a sigh rose to her lips. 

"She is still young, " she thought; "she may begin life afresh. Theremembrance of these sad days will be wiped out, and I shall see herrevive and smile again. That wretch was nearly the death of her. "

And the image of Serge and Jeanne stretched beside each other in theroom full of smoke came before her eyes again. She shook her head tochase the importunate vision away, and noiselessly regained her ownapartment. 

The day dawned pale and bleak. Madame Desvarennes opened her window andcooled her burning brow in the fresh morning air. The birds were awake, and were singing on the trees in the garden. 

Little by little, the distant sound of wheels rolling by was heard. Thecity was awakening from its sleep. 

Madame Desvarennes rang and asked for Marechal. The secretary appearedinstantly. He, too, had shared the anxieties and fears of the mistress, and had risen early. Madame Desvarennes greeted him with a gratefulsmile. She felt that she was really loved by this good fellow, whounderstood her so thoroughly. She begged him to go to Cayrol's, and gainsome information, without giving him further details, and she waited, walking up and down the room to calm the fever of her mind. 

On leaving the house in the Rue Taitbout, Serge felt bewildered, notdaring to go home, and unable to decide on any plan; yet feeling thatit was necessary to fix on something without delay, he reached the club. The walk did him good, and restored his physical equilibrium. He wasthankful to be alive after such a narrow escape. He went upstairs witha comparatively light step, and tossed his overcoat to a very sleepyfootman who had risen to receive him. He went into the card-room. Baccarat was just finishing. It was three o'clock in the morning. Theappearance of the Prince lent the game a little fresh animation. Sergeplunged into it as if it were a battle. Luck was on his side. In ashort time he cleared the bank: a thousand louis. One by one the playersretired. Panine, left alone, threw himself on a couch and slept for afew hours, but it was not a refreshing sleep. On the contrary, it madehim feel more tired. 

The day servants disturbed him when they came in to sweep the rooms andopen the windows. He went into the lavatory, and there bathed his face. When his ablutions were over he wrote a note to Jeanne, saying thathe had reflected, and could not possibly let her go away with him. Heimplored her to do all in her power to forget him. He gave this letterto one of the messengers, and told him to give it into the hands ofMadame Cayrol's maid, and to none other. 

The care of a woman and the worry of another household seemed unbearableto him. Besides, what could he do with Jeanne? The presence of hismistress would prevent his being able to go back to Micheline. And nowhe felt that his only hope of safety was in Micheline's love for him. 

But first of all he must go and see if Herzog had returned, andascertain the real facts of the position in regard to the UniversalCredit Company. 

Herzog occupied a little house on the Boulevard Haussmann, which he hadhired furnished from some Americans. The loud luxury of the Yankees hadnot frightened him. On the contrary, he held that the gay colors of thefurniture and the glitter of the gilded cornices were bound to have afascination for prospective shareholders. Suzanne had reserved a littlecorner for herself, modestly hung with muslin and furnished with simpletaste, which was a great contrast to the loud appearance of the otherpart of the house. 

On arriving, Serge found a stableman washing a victoria. Herzoghad returned. The Prince quietly went up the steps, and had himselfannounced. 

The financier was sitting in his study by the window, looking throughthe newspapers. When Serge entered he rose. The two men stood facingeach other for a moment. The Prince was the first to speak. 

"How is it that you have kept me without news during your absence?"asked he, harshly. 

"Because, " replied Herzog, calmly, "the only news I had was not goodnews. "

"At least I should have known it. "

"Would the result of the operation have been different?"

"You have led me like a child in this affair, " Serge continued, becominganimated. "I did not know where I was going. You made me promises, howhave you kept them?"

"As I was able, " quietly answered Herzog. "Play has its chances. Oneseeks Austerlitz and finds Waterloo. "

"But, " cried the Prince, angrily, "the shares which you sold ought notto have gone out of your hands. "

"You believed that?" retorted the financier, ironically. "If they oughtnot to have gone out of my hands it was hardly worth while putting theminto them. "

"In short, " said Panine, eager to find some responsible party on whomhe could pour out all the bitterness of his misfortune, "you took a meanadvantage of me. "

"Good! I expected you to say that!" returned Herzog, smiling. "If thebusiness had succeeded, you would have accepted your share of the spoilwithout any scruples, and would have felt ready to crown me. It hasfailed; you are trying to get out of the responsibility, and are on thepoint of treating me as if I were a swindler. Still, the affair wouldnot have been more honest in the first instance than in the second, butsuccess embellishes everything. "

Serge looked hard at Herzog. 

"What is there to prove, " replied he, "that this speculation, whichbrings ruin and loss to me, does not enrich you?"

"Ungrateful fellow!" observed the financier, ironically, "you suspectme!"

"Of having robbed me!" cried Serge, in a rage. "Why not?"

Herzog, for a moment, lost his temper and turned red in the face. Heseized Panine violently by the arm, and said:

"Gently, Prince; whatever insults you heap upon me must be shared byyou. You are my partner. "

"Scoundrel!" yelled Panine, exasperated at being held by Herzog. 

"Personalities, " said the financier, in a jesting tone. "Then I take myleave!"

And loosing his hold of the Prince, he went toward the door. 

Serge sprang after him, exclaiming:

"You shall not leave this room until you have given me the means ofrectifying this disaster. "

"Then let us talk sensibly, as boon companions, " said Herzog. "I knowof a marvellous move by which we can get out of the difficulty. Letus boldly call a general meeting. I will explain the thing, and amazeeverybody. We shall get a vote of confidence for the past, with fundsfor the future. We shall be as white as snow, and the game is played. Are you in with me?"

"Enough, " replied the Prince, intensely disgusted. "It does not suit meto do a yet more shameful thing in order to get out of this trouble. Itis no use arguing further; we are lost. "

"Only the weak allow themselves to be lost!" exclaimed the financier. "The strong defend themselves. You may give in if you like; I won't. Three times have I been ruined and three times have I risen again. Myhead is good! I am down now. I shall rise again, and when I am well off, and have a few millions to spare, I will settle old debts. Everybodywill be astonished because they won't expect it, and I shall be morethought of than if I had paid up at the time. "

"And if you are not allowed to go free?" asked Serge. "What if theyarrest you?"

"I shall be in Aix-la-Chapelle to-night, " said Herzog. "From there Ishall treat with the shareholders of the Universal Credit. People judgethings better at a distance. Are you coming with me?"

"No, " replied Serge, in a low voice. 

"You are wrong. Fortune is capricious, and in six months we may bericher than we ever have been. But as you have decided, let me give youa piece of advice which will be worth the money you have lost. Confessall to your wife; she can get you out of this difficulty. "

The financier held out a hand to Serge which he did not take. 

"Ah! pride!" murmured Herzog. "After all it is your right--It is you whopay!"

Without answering a word the Prince went out. 

At that same hour, Madame Desvarennes, tired by long waiting, was pacingup and down her little drawing-room. A door opened and Marechal, thelong-looked for messenger, appeared. He had been to Cayrol's, but couldnot see him. The banker, who had shut himself up in his private officewhere he had worked all night, had given orders that no one shouldinterrupt him. And as Madame Desvarennes seemed to have a question onher lips which she dared not utter, Marechal added that nothing unusualseemed to have happened at the house. 

But as the mistress was thanking her secretary, the great gate swung onits hinges, and a carriage rolled into the courtyard. Marechal flew tothe window, and uttered one word, "Cayrol!"

Madame Desvarennes motioned to him to leave her, and the banker appearedon the threshold. 

At a glance the mistress saw the ravages which the terrible night hehad passed through had caused. Yesterday, the banker was rosy, firm, andupright as an oak, now he was bent, and withered like an old man. Hishair had become gray about the temples, as if scorched by his burningthoughts. He was only the shadow of himself. 

Madame Desvarennes advanced toward him, and in one word asked a world ofquestions. 

"Well?" she said. 

Cayrol, gloomy and fierce, raised his eyes to the mistress, andanswered:

"Nothing!"

"Did he not come?"

"Yes, he came. But I had not the necessary energy to kill him. I thoughtit was an easier matter to become a murderer. And you thought so too, eh?"

"Cayrol!" cried Madame Desvarennes, shuddering, and troubled to findthat she had been so easily understood by him whom she had armed on herbehalf. 

"The opportunity was a rare one, though, " continued Cayrol, gettingexcited. "Fancy; I found them together under my own roof. The lawallowed me, if not the actual right to kill them, at least an excuse ifI did so. Well, at the decisive moment, when I ought to have struck theblow, my heart failed me. He lives, and Jeanne loves him. "

There was a pause. 

"What are you going to do?"

"Get rid of him in another way, " answered Cayrol. "I had only two waysof killing him. One was to catch him in my own house, the other to callhim out. My will failed me in the one case; my want of skill would failme in the other. I will not fight Serge. Not because I fear death, formy life is blighted, and I don't value it; but if I were dead, Jeannewould belong to him, and I could not bear the thought of that even indeath. I must separate them forever. "

"And how?"

"By forcing him to disappear. "

"And if he refuse?"

Cayrol shook his head menacingly, and exclaimed:

"I defy him! If he resist, I will bring him before the assizes!"

"You?" said Madame Desvarennes, going nearer to Cayrol. 

"Yes, I!" answered the banker, with energy. 

"Wretched man! And my daughter?" cried the mistress. "Think well whatyou are saying! You would disgrace me and mine. "

"Am I not dishonored myself?" asked Cayrol. "Your son-in-law is arobber, who has defiled my home and robbed my safe. "

"An honest man does not seek to revenge himself after the manner yousuggest, " said the mistress, gravely. 

"An honest man defends himself as he can. I am not a knight. I am onlya financier. Money is my weapon. The Prince has stolen from me. I willhave him sentenced as a thief. "

Madame Desvarennes frowned. 

"Make out your account. I will pay it. "

"Will you also pay me for my lost happiness?" cried the banker, exasperated. "Should I not rather have chosen to be ruined than bebetrayed as I am? You can never repair the wrong he has done me. Andthen I am suffering so, I must have my revenge!"

"Ah! fool that you are, " replied Madame Desvarennes. "The guilty willnot feel your blows, but the innocent. When my daughter and I are indespair will you be less unhappy! Oh! Cayrol, take heed that you losenot in dignity what you gain in revenge. The less one is respectedby others the more one must respect one's self. Contempt and silenceelevate the victim, while rage and hatred make him descend to the levelof those who have outraged him. "

"Let people judge me as they please. I care only for myself! I am avulgar soul, and have a low mind--anything you like. But the idea thatthat woman belongs to another drives me mad. I ought to hate her, but, notwithstanding everything, I cannot live without her. If she will comeback to me I will forgive her. It is ignoble! I feel it, but it is toostrong for me. I adore her!"

Before that blind love Madame Desvarennes shuddered. She thought ofMicheline who loved Serge as Cayrol loved Jeanne. 

"Suppose she chooses to go away with Serge, " said the mistress toherself. In a moment she saw the house abandoned, Micheline and Serge inforeign lands, and she alone in the midst of her overthrown happiness, dying of sadness and regrets. She made a last effort to move Cayrol. 

"Come, must I appeal in vain? Can you forget that I was a sure anddevoted friend to you, and that you owe your fortune to me? You are agood man and will not forget the past. You have been outraged and havethe right of seeking revenge, but think that in carrying it out you willhurt two women who have never done you any harm. Be generous! Be just!Spare us!"

Cayrol remained silent; his face did not relax. After a moment he said:

"You see how low I have fallen, by not yielding at once to yoursupplications! Friendship, gratitude, generosity, all the good feelingsI had, have been consumed by this execrable love. There is nothing leftbut love for her. For her, I forget everything. I degrade and debasemyself. And what is worse than all, is that I know all this and yet Icannot help myself. "

"Miserable man!" murmured the mistress. 

"Oh! most miserable, " sobbed Cayrol, falling into an armchair. 

Madame Desvarennes approached him, and quietly placed her hand on hisshoulder. 

"Cayrol, you are weeping? Then, forgive. "

The banker arose and, with lowering brow, said:

"No! my resolution is irrevocable. I wish to place a world betweenJeanne and Serge. If he has not gone away by tonight my complaint willbe lodged in the courts of justice. "

Madame Desvarennes no longer persisted. She saw that the husband's heartwas permanently closed. 

"It is well. I thank you for having warned me. You might have takenaction without doing so. Good-by, Cayrol. I leave your conscience tojudge between you and me. "

The banker bowed, and murmured:

"Good-by!"

And with a heavy step, almost tottering, he went out. 

The sun had risen, and lit up the trees in the garden. Nature seemed tobe making holiday. The flowers perfumed the air, and in the deep bluesky swallows were flying to and fro. This earthly joy exasperated MadameDesvarennes. She would have liked the world to be in mourning. Sheclosed the window hastily, and remained lost in her own reflections. 

So everything was over! The great prosperity, the honor of the house, everything was foundering in a moment. Even her daughter might escapefrom her, and follow the infamous husband whom she adored in spite ofhis faults--perhaps because of his very faults--and might drag on aweary existence in a strange land, which would terminate in death. 

For that sweet and delicate child could not live without materialcomforts and mental ease, and her husband was doomed to go on from badto worse, and would drag her down with him! The mistress pictured herdaughter, that child whom she had brought up with the tenderest care, dying on a pallet, and the husband, odious to the last, refusing heradmission to the room where Micheline was in agony. 

A fearful feeling of anger overcame her. Her motherly love gained themastery, and in the silence of the room she roared out these words:

"That shall not be!"

The opening of the door recalled her to her senses, and she rose. It wasMarechal, greatly agitated. After Cayrol's arrival, not knowing whatto do, he had gone to the Universal Credit Company, and there, tohis astonishment, had found the offices closed. He had heard from theporter, one of those superb personages dressed in blue and red cloth, who were so important in the eyes of the shareholders, that the eveningbefore, owing to the complaint of a director, the police had entered theoffices, and taken the books away, and that the official seal had beenplaced on the doors. Marechal, much alarmed, had hastened back to MadameDesvarennes to apprise her of the fact. It was evidently necessary totake immediate steps to meet this new complication. Was this indeed thebeginning of legal proceedings? And if so how would the Prince come outof it?

Madame Desvarennes listened to Marechal, without uttering a word. Eventswere hurrying on even quicker than she had dreaded. The fears of theinterested shareholders outran even the hatred of Cayrol. What would thejudges call Herzog's underhand dealings? Would it be embezzlement? Orforgery? Would they come and arrest the Prince at her house? The houseof Desvarennes, which had never received a visit from a sheriff'sofficer, was it to be disgraced now by the presence of the police?

The mistress, in that fatal hour, became herself again. Thestrong-minded woman of old reappeared. Marechal was more alarmed at thissudden vigor than he had been at her late depression. When he saw MadameDesvarennes going toward the door, he made an effort to detain her. 

"Where are you going, Madame?" he inquired, with anxiety. 

The mistress gave him a look that terrified him, and answered:

"I am going to square accounts with the Prince. "

And, passing through the door leading to the little staircase, MadameDesvarennes went up to her son-in-law's rooms. 

CHAPTER XXII. THE MOTHER'S REVENGE

On leaving Herzog, Serge had turned his steps toward the RueSaint-Dominique. He had delayed the moment of going home as long aspossible, but the streets were beginning to be crowded. He might meetsome people of his acquaintance. He resolved to face what ever receptionwas awaiting him on the way, he was planning what course he should adoptto bring about a reconciliation with his redoubtable mother-in-law. Hewas no longer proud, but felt quite broken down. Only Madame Desvarennescould put him on his feet again; and, as cowardly in trouble as he hadbeen insolent in prosperity, he accepted beforehand all that shemight impose upon him; all, provided that she would cover him with herprotection. 

He was frightened, not knowing how deep Herzog had led him in the mire. His moral sense had disappeared, but he had a vague instinct of thedanger he had incurred. The financier's last words came to his mind:"Confess all to your wife; she can get you out of this difficulty!"He understood the meaning of them, and resolved to follow the advice. Micheline loved him. In appealing to her heart, deeply wounded as itwas, he would have in her an ally, and he had long known that MadameDesvarennes could not oppose her daughter in anything. 

He entered the house through the back garden gate, and regained hisroom without making the slightest noise. He dreaded meeting MadameDesvarennes before seeing Micheline. First he changed his attire; hehad walked about Paris in evening clothes. Looking in the glass he wassurprised at the alteration in his features. Was his beauty going too?What would become of him if he failed to please. And, like an actorwho is about to play an important part, he paid great attention to themaking up of his face. He wished once more to captivate his wife, as hissafety depended on the impression he was about to make on her. At last, satisfied with himself, he tried to look smiling, and went to his wife'sroom. 

Micheline was up. 

At the sight of Serge she could not suppress an exclamation of surprise. It was a long time since he had discontinued these familiar visits. Thepresence of her beloved one in that room, which had seemed so empty whenhe was not there, made her feel happy, and she went to him with a smile, holding out her hand. Serge drew her gently toward him and kissed herhair. 

"Up, already, dear child, " said he, affectionately. 

"I have scarcely slept, " answered Micheline. "I was so anxious. I sat upfor you part of the night. I had left you without saying good-night. Itwas the first time it had occurred, and I wanted to beg your pardon. Butyou came in very late. "

"Micheline, it is I who am ungrateful, " interrupted Panine, makingthe young wife sit down beside him. "It is I who must ask you to beindulgent. "

"Serge! I beg of you!" said the young wife, taking both his hands. "Allis forgotten. I would not reproach you, I love you so much!"

Micheline's face beamed with joy, and tears filled her eyes. 

"You are weeping, " said Panine. "Ah! I feel the weight of my wrongstoward you. I see how deserving you are of respect and affection. Ifeel unworthy, and would kneel before you to say how I regret all theanxieties I have caused you, and that my only desire in the future willbe to make you forget them. "

"Oh! speak on! speak on!" cried Micheline, with delight. "What happinessto hear you say such sweet words! Open your heart to me! You know Iwould die to please you. If you have any anxieties or annoyancesconfide in me. I can relieve them. Who could resist me when you are inquestion?"

"I have none, Micheline, " answered Serge, with the constrained manner ofa man who is feigning. "Nothing but the regret of not having lived morefor you. "

"Is the future not in store for us?" said the young wife, lookinglovingly at him. 

The Prince shook his head, saying:

"Who can answer for the future?"

Micheline came closer to her husband, not quite understanding whatSerge meant, but her mind was on the alert, and in an alarmed tone, sheresumed:

"What strange words you are uttering? Are we not both young? And, if youlike, is there not much happiness in store for us?"

And she clung to him. Serge turned away. 

"Oh, stay, " she murmured, again putting her arms round him. "You are sotruly mine at this moment!"

Panine saw that the opportunity for confessing all had come. He was ableto bring tears to his eyes, and went toward the window as if to hide hisemotion. Micheline followed him, and, in an eager tone, continued:

"Ah! I knew you were hiding something. You are unhappy or in pain;threatened perhaps? Ah! if you love me, tell me the truth!"

"Well, yes! It is true, I am threatened. I am suffering and unhappy! Butdon't expect a confession from me. I should blush to make it. But, thankHeaven, if I cannot extricate myself from the difficulty in which I amplaced through my own folly and imprudence--there is yet another way outof it. "

"Serge! you would kill yourself!" cried Micheline, terrified at thegesture Panine had made. "What would become of me then? But what isthere that is so hard to explain? And to whom should it be said?"

"To your mother, " answered Serge, bowing his head. 

"To my mother? Very well, I will go to her. Oh! don't fear anything. Ican defend you, and to strike you she will first have to attack me. "

Serge put his arms round Micheline, and with a kiss, the hypocriteinspired her whom he entrusted with his safety with indomitable courage. 

"Wait for me here, " added the young wife, and passing through the littledrawing-room she reached the smoking-room. 

She halted there a moment, out of breath and almost choked with emotion. The long expected day had arrived. Serge was coming back to her. She went on, and as she reached the door of the stair leading to hermother's rooms, she heard a light tap from without. 

Greatly astonished, she opened the door, and suddenly drew back, uttering an exclamation. A woman, thickly veiled, stood before her. 

At the sight of Micheline the stranger seemed inclined to turn andfly. But overcome with jealousy, the young wife seized her by the arm, dragged off her veil, and recognizing her, exclaimed:

"Jeanne!"

Madame Cayrol approached Micheline, and beseechingly stretched out herhands:

"Micheline! don't think--I come--"

"Hold your tongue!" cried Micheline. "Don't tell me any lies! I knowall! You are my husband's mistress!"

Crushed by such a stroke, Jeanne hid her face in her hands and moaned:

"O God!"

"You must really be bold, " continued Micheline, in a furious tone, "toseek him here, in my house, almost in my arms!"

Jeanne drew herself up, blushing with shame and grief. 

"Ah! don't think, " she said, "that love brings me here. "

"What is it then?" asked Micheline, contemptuously. 

"The knowledge of inevitable and pressing danger which threatens Serge. "

"A danger! Of what kind?"

"Compromised by Herzog, he is at the mercy of my husband, who has swornto ruin him. "

"Your husband!"

"Yes, he is his rival. If you could ruin me, would you not do it?" saidJeanne. 

"You!" retorted Micheline, passionately. "Do you think I am going toworry about you? Serge is my first thought. You say you came to warnhim. What must be done?"

"Without a moment's delay he must go away!"

A strange suspicion crossed Micheline's mind. She approached Jeanne, andlooking earnestly at her, said:

"He must go away without delay, eh? And it is you, braving everything, without a thought of the trouble you leave behind you, who come to warnhim? Ah! you mean to go with him?"

Jeanne hesitated a moment. Then, boldly and impudently, defying andalmost threatening the legitimate wife:

"Well, yes, I wish to! Enough of dissimulation! I love him!" sheexclaimed. 

Micheline, transfigured by passion, strong, and ready for a struggle, threw herself in Jeanne's way, with arms outstretched, as if to preventher going to Serge. 

"Well!" she said; "try to take him from me!"

"Take him from you!" answered Jeanne, laughing like a mad woman. "Towhom does he most belong? To the woman who was as ignorant of his loveas she was of his danger; who could do nothing toward his happiness, andcan do nothing for his safety? Or to the mistress who has sacrificed herhonor to please him and risks her safety to save him?"

"Ah! wretch!" cried Micheline, "to invoke your infamy as a right!"

"Which of us has taken him from the other?" continued Jeanne, forgettingrespect, modesty, everything. "Do you know that he loved me before hemarried you? Do you know that he abandoned me for you--for your money, Ishould say? Now, do you wish to weigh what I have suffered with what yousuffer? Shall we make out a balance-sheet of our tears? Then, you willbe able to tell which of us he has loved more, and to whom he reallybelongs. "

Micheline had listened to this furious address almost in a state ofstupor, and replied, vehemently:

"What matter who triumphs if his ruin is certain. Selfish creatures thatwe are, instead of disputing about his love, let us unite in savinghim! You say he must go away! But flight is surely an admission ofguilt--humiliation and obscurity in a strange land. And that is what youadvise, because you hope to share that miserable existence with him. You are urging him on to dishonor. His fate is in the hands of a manwho adores you, who would sacrifice everything for you, as I would forSerge, and yet you have not thrown yourself at his feet! You have notoffered your life as the price of your lover's! And you say that youlove him!"

"Ah!" stammered Jeanne, distracted. "You wish me to save him for you!"

"Is that the cry of your heart?" said Micheline, with crushing disdain. "Well, see what I am ready to do. If, to remove your jealous fears, itis necessary to sacrifice myself, I swear to you that if Serge be saved, he shall be perfectly free, and I will never see him again!"

Micheline, chaste and calm, with hands raised to Heaven, seemed to growtaller and nobler. Jeanne, trembling and overpowered, looked at herrival with a painful effort, and murmured, softly:

"Would you do that?"

"I would do more!" said the lawful wife, bending before the mistress. "Iought to hate you, and I kneel at your feet and beseech you to listento me. Do what I ask you and I will forgive you and bless you. Do nothesitate! Follow me! Let us throw ourselves at the feet of him whom youhave outraged. His generosity cannot be less than ours, and to us, who sacrifice our love, he will not be able to refuse to sacrifice hisvengeance. "

This greatness and goodness awaked feelings in Jeanne's heart which shethought dead. She was silent for a moment and then her breast heavedwith convulsive sobs, and she fell helpless into the arms whichMicheline, full of pity, held out to her. 

"Forgive me, " moaned the unhappy woman. "I am conquered. Your rights aresacred, and you have just made them still more so. Keep Serge: with youhe will once more become honest and happy, because, if your love is notgreater than mine, it is nobler and purer. "

The two women went hand in hand to try to save the man whom they bothadored. 

All this time Serge remained in the little drawing-room enjoying thehope of returning peace. It was sweet to him, after the troubles he hadgone through. He had not the slightest suspicion of the scene in theadjoining room between Jeanne and Micheline. The fond heroism of hiswife and the self-denial of his mistress were unknown to him. 

Time was passing. At least an hour had sped since Micheline left him togo to her mother, and Serge was beginning to think that the interviewwas very long, when a light step made him tremble. It came from thegallery. He thought it was Micheline, and opening the door, he went tomeet her. 

He drew back disappointed, vexed, and anxious, when he found it wasPierre. The two men had never met alone since that terrible night atNice. Panine assumed a bold demeanor, and returned Pierre's firm look. Steadying his voice, he said:

"Ah! is it you?"

"Were you not expecting me?" answered Pierre whose harsh voice thrilledSerge. 

The Prince opened his mouth to speak, but Pierre, did not give him time. In stern and provoking accents, he continued:

"I made you a promise once; have you forgotten it? I have a good memory. You are a villain, and I come to chastise you!"

"Pierre!" exclaimed the Prince, starting fiercely. 

But he suddenly calmed himself, and added:

"Leave me! I will not listen to you!"

"You will have to, though! You are a source of trouble and shame tothe family to which you have allied yourself, and as you have not thecourage to kill yourself, I have come to help you. You must leave Paristo-night, or you will be arrested. We shall go together to Brussels andthere we shall fight. If chance favors you, you will be at liberty tocontinue your infamies, but at any rate I shall have done my best to ridtwo unfortunate women of your presence. "

"You are mad!" said Serge, sneeringly. 

"Don't think so! And know that I am ready for any emergency. Come; mustI strike you, to give you courage?" growled Pierre, ready to suit theaction to the word. 

"Ah! take care!" snarled Serge, with an evil look. 

And opening a drawer which was close to him, he took out a revolver. 

"Thief first, then murderer!" said Pierre, with a terrible laugh. "Come, let's see you do it!"

And he was going toward the Prince when the door opened, and MadameDesvarennes came forward. Placing her hand on Pierre's shoulder, shesaid, in that commanding tone which few could resist:

"Go; wait for me in my room. I wish it!"

Pierre bowed, and, without answering, went out. 

Serge had placed the pistol on the table and was waiting. 

"We have to talk over several matters, " said Madame Desvarennes, gravely, "and you know it. "

"Yes, Madame, " answered Panine, sadly, "and, believe me, no one judgesmy conduct more severely than I do. "

The mistress could not help looking surprised. 

"Ah!" she said, with irony, "I did not expect to find you in such amood. You have not accustomed me to such humility and sweetness. Youmust be afraid, to have arrived at that stage!"

The Prince appeared not to have understood the implied insult inhis mother-in-law's words. One thing struck him, which was that sheevidently did not expect to find him repentant and humbled. 

"Micheline must have told you, " he began. 

"I have not seen my daughter, " interrupted the mistress, sharply, as ifto make him understand that he must depend solely upon himself. 

Ignorant that Micheline had met Jeanne on her way to her mother, andhad gone to Cayrol, Serge thought he was abandoned by his only powerfulally. He saw that he was lost and that his feigned resignation wasuseless. Unable to control himself any longer, his face darkened withrage. 

"She, too, against me! Well! I will defend myself alone!"

Turning toward Madame Desvarennes, he added:

"To begin with, what do you want with me?"

"I wish to ask you a question. We business folk when we fail, and cannotpay our way, throw blood on the blot and it disappears. You members ofthe nobility, when you are disgraced, how do you manage?"

"If I am not mistaken, Madame, " answered the Prince, in a light tone, "you do me the favor of asking what my intentions are for the future?I will answer you with precision. I purpose leaving to-night forAix-la-Chapelle, where I shall join my friend Herzog. We shall begin ourbusiness again. My wife, on whose good feelings I rely, will accompanyme, notwithstanding everything. "

And in these last words he put all the venom of his soul. 

"My daughter will not leave me!" exclaimed Madame Desvarennes. 

"Very well, then, you can accompany her, " retorted Panine. "Thatarrangement will suit me. Since my troubles I have learned to appreciatedomestic happiness. "

"Ah! you hope to play your old games on me, " said Madame Desvarennes. "You won't get much out of me. My daughter and I with you--in the streamwhere you are going to sink? Never!"

"Well, then, " cried Panine, "what do you expect?"

A violent ring at the front door resounded as Madame Desvarennes wasabout to answer, and stopped the words on her lips. This signal, whichwas used only on important occasions, sounded to Madame like a funeralknell. Serge frowned, and instinctively moved back. 

Marechal appeared through the half-open door with a scared face, andsilently handed Madame Desvarennes a card. She glanced at it, turnedpale, and said to the secretary:

"Very well, let him wait!" She threw the card on the table. Serge cameforward and read:

"Delbarre, sheriff's officer. "

Haggard-looking and aghast, he turned to the mistress, as if seeking anexplanation. 

"Well!" she observed: "it is clear, he has come to arrest you. "

Serge rushed to a cabinet, and opening a drawer, took forth somehandfuls of gold and notes, which he crammed into his pockets. 

"By the back stairs I shall have time to get away. It is my last chance!Keep the man for five minutes only. "

"And if the door is guarded?" asked Madame Desvarennes. 

Serge remained abject before her. He felt himself enclosed in a ringwhich he could not break through. 

"One may be prosecuted without being condemned, " he gasped. "You willuse your influence, I know, and you will get me out of this mess. Ishall be grateful to you for ever, and will do anything you like! Butdon't leave me, it would be cowardly!"

He trembled, as he thus besought her distractedly. 

"The son-in-law of Madame Desvarennes does not go before the AssizeCourts even to be acquitted, " said she, with a firm voice. 

"What would you have me do?" cried Serge, passionately. 

Madame Desvarennes did not answer, but pointed to the revolver on thetable. 

"Kill myself? Ah! no; that would be giving you too much pleasure. "

And he gave the weapon a push, so that it rolled close to MadameDesvarennes. 

"Ah! wretch!" cried she, giving way to her suppressed rage. "You are noteven a Panine! The Panines knew how to die. "

"I have not time to act a melodrama with you, " snarled Serge. "I amgoing to try to save myself. "

And he took a step toward the door. 

The mistress seized the revolver, and threw herself before him. 

"You shall not go out!" she cried. 

"Are you mad?" he exclaimed, gnashing his teeth. 

"You shall not go out!" repeated the mistress, with flashing eyes. 

"We shall see!"

And with a strong arm he seized Madame Desvarennes, and threw her aside. 

The mistress became livid. Serge had his hand on the handle of the door. He was about to escape. Madame Desvarennes's arm was stretched forth. 

A shot made the windows rattle; the weapon fell from her hand, havingdone its work and, amid the smoke, a body dropped heavily on the carpet, which was soon dyed with blood. 

At the same moment, the door opened, and Micheline entered, holding inher hand the fatal receipt which she had just wrung from Cayrol. Theyoung wife uttered a heartrending cry, and fell senseless on Serge'sbody. 

Behind Micheline came the officer and Marechal. The secretary exchangedlooks with the mistress, who was lifting her fainting daughter andclasping her in her arms. He understood all. 

Turning toward his companion, he said:

"Alas! sir, here is a sad matter! The Prince, on hearing that you hadcome, took fright, although his fault was not very serious, and has shothimself. "

The officer bowed respectfully to the mistress, who was bending overMicheline. 

"Please to withdraw, Madame. You have already suffered too much, " saidhe. "I understand your legitimate grief. If I need any information, thisgentleman will give it to me. "

Madame Desvarennes arose, and, without bending under the burden, shebore away on her bosom her daughter, regained. 

 ETEXT EDITOR'S BOOKMARKS:

 A man weeps with difficulty before a woman A uniform is the only garb which can hide poverty honorably Antagonism to plutocracy and hatred of aristocrats Because they moved, they thought they were progressing Cowardly in trouble as he had been insolent in prosperity Enough to be nobody's unless I belong to him Even those who do not love her desire to know her Everywhere was feverish excitement, dissipation, and nullity Flayed and roasted alive by the critics Forget a dream and accept a reality Hard workers are pitiful lovers He lost his time, his money, his hair, his illusions He was very unhappy at being misunderstood Heed that you lose not in dignity what you gain in revenge I thought the best means of being loved were to deserve it I don't pay myself with words Implacable self-interest which is the law of the world In life it is only nonsense that is common-sense Is a man ever poor when he has two arms? Is it by law only that you wish to keep me? It was a relief when they rose from the table Men of pleasure remain all their lives mediocre workers Money troubles are not mortal My aunt is jealous of me because I am a man of ideas Negroes, all but monkeys! Nothing that provokes laughter more than a disappointed lover One amuses one's self at the risk of dying Patience, should he encounter a dull page here or there Romanticism still ferments beneath the varnish of Naturalism Sacrifice his artistic leanings to popular caprice Scarcely was one scheme launched when another idea occurred She would have liked the world to be in mourning Suffering is a human law; the world is an arena Talk with me sometimes. You will not chatter trivialities The guilty will not feel your blows, but the innocent The uncontested power which money brings They had only one aim, one passion--to enjoy themselves Unqualified for happiness We had taken the dream of a day for eternal happiness What is a man who remains useless Without a care or a cross, he grew weary like a prisoner You are talking too much about it to be sincere