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Updated: June 16, 2025
And leading away his mother-in-law and his wife, he left the ballroom followed by cheers. Outside they all three walked in silence. The night air was delightful after coming out of that furnace. The cheering had ceased, and the orchestra was playing a polka. Micheline had taken her husband's arm. They went along slowly, and close together.
The mistress, wishing to give him some compensation, offered him the management of the mills at Jouy, saying: "So that if you are not my son, you will be at least my partner. And if I do not leave you all my money at my death, I can enrich you during my life." Pierre would not accept. He would not have it said that in wishing to marry Micheline he had tried to make a speculation.
On your wife's arm this bracelet will be well placed. Au revoir, dear Prince. I wish you every happiness." And bowing to Micheline with a regal bow, Lady Harton took the arm of a tall young man whom she had beckoned, and walked away. Micheline, amazed, looked at the bracelet sparkling on her white wrist.
Excuse my weakness, and believe that you will never have a more faithful and devoted friend than I." Micheline gave him her hand, and, smiling, bowed her forehead to his lips. He slowly impressed a brotherly kiss, which effaced the burning trace of the one which he had stolen a moment before. At the same time a deep voice was heard in the distance, calling Pierre. Micheline trembled.
She stopped for a moment; then, turning toward the Prince, and looking him full in the face, she said: "And so, this marriage is decided?" Serge answered, "Yes." It was fainter than a whisper. As if she could not believe it, Jeanne repeated: "You are going to marry Micheline?"
His moral sense had disappeared, but he had a vague instinct of the danger he had incurred. The financier's last words came to his mind: "Confess all to your wife; she can get you out of this difficulty!" He understood the meaning of them, and resolved to follow the advice. Micheline loved him.
"I can never think of him but as vile and odious," continued Micheline. "Every day his sin will seem more dastardly and his hypocrisy more base. There, a little while ago, he was smiling; and do you know why? Because Cayrol is going away, and during his absence Serge will return here tonight." "Who told you?" "I read it in his joyful looks. I love him. He cannot hide anything from me.
Then, kneeling beside the couch on which Micheline was stretched, she gave vent to her grief. She begged her daughter to speak to her, and warmed her hands with kisses; then, seeing her still cold and motionless, she was frightened, and wanted to call for help. "No; be quiet!" murmured Micheline, recovering. "Let no one know.
"And in my heart you still hold the same place." The mistress looked at the young wife, then, in a sad tone, said: "It is no longer the first place." This simple, selfish view made Micheline smile. "It is just like you, you tyrant!" she exclaimed. "You must be first. Come, be satisfied with equality!
She foresaw a terrible revelation, and observing her daughter narrowly, said: "Why do you cry out when I speak of your kissing Jeanne? Whatever is the matter?" Micheline grasped her mother's arm, and pointed to Serge and Jeanne, who were in the little drawing-room, laughing and talking, surrounded by a group of people, yet alone. "Look at them!" she cried.
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