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Pierre has certainly returned to claim his right as betrothed, and Mademoiselle Micheline loves Prince Serge. Out of this a serious conflict will take place in the house. There will be a battle. And as the parties in question are about equal in strength, I am seeking adherents for my candidate. I own, in all humility, I am on love's side.
Micheline was proud of it, and saw in this act of deference to her mother a proof of his love for her. As to the mistress, she understood the advantage this clever manoeuvre gave to the Prince. At the same time she felt the great distance which henceforth separated her from the world in which her daughter lived. The insolence of that servant was a revelation to her. They despised her.
"Are you going away?" inquired Micheline, a light dawning on her mind. "Yes," said Cayrol; "I have an important matter to settle." "And when do you start?" continued Micheline, in such a changed voice that her mother was frightened. "In a moment," answered the banker. "Allow me to leave you. I have several orders to give." And leaving the boudoir, he regained the little drawing-room.
Pierre followed her for a moment with his eyes, then, turning toward his betrothed, said: "Micheline, shall I tell you your secret? You no longer love me." The young girl started. The attack was direct. She must at once give an explanation. She had often thought of what she would say when Pierre came back to her. The day had arrived unexpectedly. And the answers she had prepared had fled.
With a mischievous wink, Serge called Madame Desvarennes's attention to the mayor's solemn appearance as he was galloping with Micheline, also the comical positions of the rustics. Micheline was smiling. She was enjoying herself. All this homely gayety, of which she was the cause, made her feel happy. She enjoyed the pleasure of those around her.
If, to remove your jealous fears, it is necessary to sacrifice myself, I swear to you that if Serge be saved, he shall be perfectly free, and I will never see him again!" Micheline, chaste and calm, with hands raised to Heaven, seemed to grow taller and nobler. Jeanne, trembling and overpowered, looked at her rival with a painful effort, and murmured, softly: "Would you do that?"
He sank on to a seat, and for a moment gave way to violent grief. Micheline, more touched by his despair than she had been by his reproaches, went to him and wiped his face with her lace handkerchief. Her white hand was close to the young man's mouth, and he kissed it eagerly. Then, as if roused by the action, he rose with a changed look in his eyes, and seized the young girl in his arms.
He gave this letter to one of the messengers, and told him to give it into the hands of Madame Cayrol's maid, and to none other. The care of a woman and the worry of another household seemed unbearable to him. Besides, what could he do with Jeanne? The presence of his mistress would prevent his being able to go back to Micheline.
She remembered that Serge and Micheline must be there. She came from under the shadow of the avenue into the full light. On recognizing her, all the workpeople, who were seated, rose. She was really mistress and lady of the place. And then she had fed these people since morning.
You have not offered your life as the price of your lover's! And you say that you love him!" "Ah!" stammered Jeanne, distracted. "You wish me to save him for you!" "Is that the cry of your heart?" said Micheline, with crushing disdain. "Well, see what I am ready to do.
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