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At this juncture their solicitor informed them that, near to their works, the Cernay estate was to be put up for sale. Very often, when going from Jouy to the mills, Madame Desvarennes had noticed the chateau, the slate roofs of the turrets of which rose gracefully from a mass of deep verdure.
I admit that I regret nothing." Then, resuming aloud: "We will leave to-morrow for Cernay, where the marriage shall take place. I shall have to order the workmen in here to get ready for your reception. Besides the wedding will be more brilliant in the country. We shall have all the work-people there. We will throw the park open to the countryside; it will be a grand fete.
The Prince is beloved by Mademoiselle Desvarennes, and I serve him. Micheline will be grateful, and will do me a turn with Mademoiselle de Cernay. As to you, let me give you a little advice. If Madame Desvarennes consults you, speak well of Panine. When the Prince is master here, your position will be all the better for it."
She felt in the way, and uncomfortable. The smiling and superficial politeness of the visitors irritated her nerves. These people were too well bred to be rude toward Panine's mother-in-law, but she felt that their politeness was forced. Under their affected nicety she detected irony. She began to hate them all. Serge, sovereign lord of Cernay, was really happy.
One day when Madame Desvarennes arrived at Cernay, she was surprised to see the greensward bordering the woods marked out with white stakes. She asked inquiringly what these stakes meant? Micheline answered in an easy tone: "Ah! you saw them? That is the track for training. We made Mademoiselle de Cernay gallop there to-day.
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 Prince's coachman would not condescend to drive a plebeian like her. She paid the wages of these servants to no purpose. Her plebeian origin and business habits were a vice. They submitted to her; they did not respect her. Although her son-in-law and daughter were perfect toward her in their behavior, she became gloomy and dull, and but seldom went now to Cernay.
From the little boudoir sounds of music were occasionally heard, when Micheline's nervous hand struck a louder chord on her piano. She was there, anxiously awaiting some one or something. Jeanne de Cernay, stretched in an easy-chair, her head leaning on her hand, was dreaming. During the past three weeks the young girl had changed.
"Serge!" cried Mademoiselle de Cernay, clinging to him whom she loved so fondly. But the Prince was as quickly calmed as he had been carried away. He gently put Jeanne aside. "You see," he said with a smile, "how unreasonable we are and how easily we might commit an irreparable folly. And yet our means will not allow us." "In mercy do not leave me!" pleaded Jeanne, in a tone of despair.
There is something ghastly in the great empty village square of Cernay, with the inn tables standing in one corner, as though the stage were set for rustic opera, and in the early morning all the painters breaking their fast upon white wine under the windows of the villagers.
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