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And with his finger, Herzog touched the silver mounted pocketbook, the corner of which was peeping out of the Prince's pocket. Panine could not control a gesture of vexation, which made the financier smile. "Am I wrong?" asked Herzog. "Can our friend Cayrol have refused your request? By-the-bye, did you not quarrel with Madame Desvarennes yesterday? Whoever was it told me that?
But Cayrol had been so importunate that, being quite tired of refusing, and, besides, being willing to favor Cayrol for having so discreetly managed the negotiations of Micheline's marriage, she had consented. Herzog had just arrived. He was expressing to Madame Desvarennes his delight at being admitted to her house.
Cayrol pressed the Prince's hand violently, made a thousand protestations of devotedness, and finally obtained his complete confidence. Serge loved Mademoiselle Desvarennes, and it was to become intimate with her that he had so eagerly sought her friend's company. Cayrol, in learning the Prince's secret, resumed his usual reserved manner.
But Mademoiselle Desvarennes was not thinking of Mademoiselle de Cernay; she had just raised 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 deep anguish.
The door of the room in which Monsieur and Mademoiselle Herzog, Marechal and Savinien were, opened, and Madame Desvarennes entered, followed by her daughter, Cayrol, Serge and Pierre. The room, at the extreme end of the villa, was square, surrounded on three sides by a gallery shut in by glass and stocked with greenhouse plants. Lofty archways, half veiled with draperies, led to the gallery.
She remained silent for a little while, as if considering; then coming to a resolution, and turning to Cayrol, 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 friendly nod to the two men, she went out quickly.
Then changing the subject: "But I am thinking, Cayrol, as you are returning to Paris, you might take 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 famous appetite."
It was amid the coming and going of customers and clerks that Prince Panine came the following day to find Cayrol. For the first time Serge had put himself out for the banker. He was introduced with marks of the most profound respect. The great name of Desvarennes seemed to cast a kind of halo round his head in the eyes of the clerks.
In the ardor of her resolution, in the first warmth of her struggle, she wished at once to put space between her and Serge. Unfortunately, Cayrol had thwarted this effort of proud revolt. She was vexed with him. He, without knowing the motives which actuated his wife, guessed that something had displeased her. He wished to change the current of her thoughts.
"Jeanne!" called the voice of Cayrol from the outside, sounding mournfully 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. "If you don't open the door, I'll " "Go! I beseech you!" whispered Jeanne, in Panine's ear. "Go downstairs again, and break open the door.
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