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It is not usual to come and say to a husband, twelve hours after marriage, 'Sir, I am very sorry, but I love somebody else! It would be too convenient. I shall not lend myself to these whims." "Cayrol, oblige me by speaking in a lower tone," said Madame Desvarennes, quietly. "There is some misunderstanding between you and this child." The husband shrugged his broad shoulders.
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 had given way. She felt very weary. The idea of going away with Cayrol, and of being alone with him in the carriage frightened her.
Cayrol, gloomy and fierce, raised his eyes to the mistress, and answered: "Nothing!" "Did he not come?" "Yes, he came. But I had not the necessary energy to kill him. I thought it was an easier matter to become a murderer. And you thought so too, eh?"
The young people went off and were lost in the darkness. Madame Desvarennes looked at Cayrol. He was happy and calm. There was no trace of his former jealousy. During the six months which had elapsed since his marriage, the banker had observed his wife closely, her actions, her words: nothing had escaped him. He had never found her at fault.
In the mansion of the Rue Saint-Dominique the marriage preparations were carried on with great despatch. On the one side the Prince, and on the other Cayrol, were eager for the day: the one because he saw the realization of his ambitious dreams, the other because he loved so madly.
She had only to say one word to Cayrol to prevent his going away. The life of this wretch was 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 defended herself? Would it be just? Jeanne had been led on against her will. She must question her. If the poor girl were suffering, if she repented, she must spare her.
A sort of anxious modesty kept back the words on his lips. He would not admit that he doubted. And, then, Cayrol would only have needed to answer that all was over, and that he could put on mourning for his love. He turned around, and went out. The tumult of Paris surprised and stunned him.
Cayrol has just refused you a sum of money. He's a simpleton! How much do you want? Will a hundred thousand francs do just now?" 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 a paltry sum!" "But, sir," said Serge, astonished, and pushing away Herzog's hand. "Accept it, and don't feel indebted to me.
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 a madonna. He had never been so happy; he was overwhelmed with joy. Until then, he had only thought of business matters. To be rich was the aim of his life; and now he was going to work for happiness.
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 I have left you.
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