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Updated: May 22, 2025
The simple, lively, and frank young girl attracted him, and he liked to talk with her. On several occasions, at Madame Desvarennes's, he had been her partner. There was through this a certain intimacy between them which he could not extend to the father. Herzog had that faculty, fortunately for him, of never appearing offended at what was said to him.
"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, who will henceforth depend on you, and it is to my interest that I should be in your good graces." In pronouncing these words with forced cheerfulness, Madame Desvarennes's voice trembled slightly.
"I have already had the honor of meeting Mademoiselle Herzog at Madame Desvarennes's," said Marechal, bowing to the young girl, without appearing to notice the father. "You were going to the villa?" asked Savinien. "We, too, were going. But how is my aunt? When did you leave her?" "I have not left her." "What's that you say?" "I say that she is here."
She had just missed being Madame Desvarennes's heiress, and now Cayrol had taken it into his head to marry her. But that was not all. And when Marechal told Savinien that the fair Jeanne flatly refused to become the wife of Cayrol, there was an outburst of joyful exclamations. She refused! By Jove, she was mad! An unlooked-for marriage for she had not a penny, and had most extravagant notions.
Madame Desvarennes's face brightened as suddenly at these words as a landscape, wrapped in a fog, which is suddenly lighted up by the sun. "Then we shall understand each other," she said. "For the last fortnight we have been busy with marriage preparations, and have not been able to think or reason. Everybody is rambling about here.
"You see," continued he, showing Madame Desvarennes's nephew the anteroom full of people, "madame has kept all these waiting since this morning, 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."
He dressed himself quickly, and removed all the traces of his journey; then, his mind made up, he jumped into a cab, and drove to Madame Desvarennes's. All indecision had left him. His fears now seemed contemptible. He must defend himself. It was a question of his happiness. At the Place de la Concorde a carriage passed his cab.
He recognized the livery of Madame Desvarennes's coachman and leant forward. The mistress did not see him. He was about to stop the cab and tell his driver to follow her carriage when a sudden thought decided him to go on. It was Micheline he wanted to see. His future destiny depended on her. Madame Desvarennes had made him clearly understand that by calling for his help in her fatal letter.
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 Mademoiselle Desvarennes's; almost a brother to her," thus explaining in one word all that could appear unusual in such a scene of tenderness. Then, addressing Pierre, he simply added "Prince Panine." The two men looked at each other.
Tired with healthy exercise, Micheline would go smiling to the office where her mother was hard at work, 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 daughter happy. Her son-in-law was in every respect cordial and charming toward her.
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