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All that Serge had said had been so open and plain, and expressed with such sweetness that, little by little, Madame Desvarennes's prejudices disappeared. 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 was irresistible. He seized on one by the eyes and the ears.
He looked as if he brought startling news. By a glance he drew Madame Desvarennes's attention 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 do myself." "Even the matter that brings me here?" replied Cayrol, with surprise. "Even that.
They even give the name of him who has been chosen for the honor and pleasure of such a brilliant conquest. I mean Prince Serge Panine." "As you have mentioned Prince Panine," replied Marechal, "allow me to tell you that he has not put his foot inside Madame Desvarennes's door for three weeks. This is not the way of a man about to marry the daughter of the house."
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.
One morning in the month of May, 1879, a young man, elegantly attired, alighted from a well-appointed carriage before the door of Madame Desvarennes's house. The young man passed quickly before the porter in uniform, decorated with a military medal, stationed near the door. The visitor found himself in an anteroom which communicated with several corridors.
In the angle of the large bay-window, opening into the garden, he waited with palpitating heart. Madame Desvarennes's voice was heard in the silence of the drawing-room; he listened. "Sit down, Jeanne; our interview will be short, and it could not be delayed, 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.
She wished to know the name of the man so that she might have an explanation with him, and tell him what she thought of his base conduct. The gentleman should have respectable, well-educated girls to trifle with, should he? And he risked nothing! He should be shown to the door with all honors due to his shameful conduct. Jeanne was still weeping silently at Madame Desvarennes's knee.
A list of names to dazzle the public, but all having a weak point. This created a great sensation in the business world. Madame Desvarennes's son-in-law was on the board. It was a good speculation, then? People consulted the mistress, who found herself somewhat in a dilemma; either she must disown her son-in-law, or speak well of the affair.
She once thought of breaking off the engagement; as she could not belong to the man whom she adored, at least she could belong to herself. But the thought of the struggle she would have to sustain with those who surrounded her, stopped her. What would she do at Madame Desvarennes's? She would have to witness the happiness of Micheline and Serge. She would rather leave the house.
Woe to those who are guilty of the crime!" Cayrol had fallen, as if thunderstruck, on a chair, with haggard eyes; his voice was gone, and he looked the image of despair. Madame Desvarennes'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 one haunting thought: "Her lover, to-night, at your house!"
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