e
splendid feast would unite two happy couples. Is there nothing in this
picture to entice you?"

"I am not easily enticed, as you know," said Jeanne, in a firm voice,
trying to smile.

Micheline and Madame Desvarennes had drawn near.

"Come, Cayrol," said Serge, in a tone of command; "I am happy to-day;
perhaps I may succeed in your behalf as I have done in my own. Let me
plead your cause with Mademoiselle de Cernay?"

"With all my heart. I need an eloquent pleader," sighed the banker,
shaking his head sadly.

"And you, Mademoiselle, will you submit to the trial?" asked the Prince,
turning toward Jeanne. "We have always been good friends, and I shall be
almost a brother to you. This gives me some right over your mind and
heart, it seems to me. Do you authorize me to exercise it?"

"As you like, sir," answered Jeanne, coldly. "The attempt is novel. Who
knows? Perhaps it will succeed!"

"May Heaven grant it," said Cayrol. Then, approaching Panine:

"Ah! dear Prince, what gratitude I shall owe you! You know," added he in
a whisper, "if you need a few thousand louis for wedding presents--"

"Go, go, corrupter!" replied Serge, with the same forced gayety; "you are
flashing your money in front of us. You see it is not invincible, as you
are obliged to have recourse to my feeble talents. But know that I am
working for glory."

And turning toward Madame Desvarennes he added: "I only ask a quarter of
an hour."

"Don't defend yourself too much," said Micheline in her companion's ear,
and giving her a tender kiss which the latter did not return.

"Come with me," said Micheline to Pierre, offering him her arm; "I want
to belong to you alone while Serge is pleading with Jeanne. I will be
your sister as formerly. If you only knew how I love you!"

The large French window which led to the garden had just been opened by
Marechal, and the mild odors of a lovely spring night perfumed the
drawing-room. They all went out on the lawn. Thousands of stars were
twinkling in the sky, and the eyes of Micheline and Pierre were lifted
toward the dark blue heavens seeking vaguely for the star which presided
over their destiny. She, to know whether her life would be the long poem
of love of which she dreamed; he, to ask whether glory, that exacting
mistress for whom he had made so many sacrifices, would at least comfort
him for his lost love.

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A man weeps with difficulty before a woman
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