to leave. Travelling, and the sight of
strange places other than those where she had lived near Serge, would
draw her attention from the persecution she suffered. Her husband was
about to take her away, to defend her. It was his duty, and she would
help him with energy. With all the strength of her will she summoned
Cayrol. She clung violently to him as a drowning person catches at a
straw, with the vigor of despair.

There was between Jeanne and Cayrol a sympathetic communication. Mentally
called by his wife, the husband appeared.

"Ah! at last!" said she.

Cayrol, surprised at this welcome, smiled. Jeanne, without noticing,
added:

"Well, Monsieur; are we leaving soon?"

The banker's surprise increased. But as this surprise was decidedly an
agreeable one he did not protest.

"In a moment, Jeanne, dear," he said.

"Why this delay?" asked the young wife, nervously.

"You will understand. There are more than twenty carriages before the
front door. Our coachman is driving round, and we will go out by the
conservatory door without being seen."

"Very well; we will wait."

This delay displeased Jeanne. In the ardor of her resolution, in the
first warmth of her struggle, she wished at once to put space between her
and Serge. Unfortunately, Cayrol had thwarted this effort of proud
revolt. She was vexed with him. He, without knowing the motives which
actuated his wife, guessed that something had displeased her. He wished
to change the current of her thoughts.

"You were marvellously beautiful to-night," he said, approaching her
gallantly. "You were much admired, and I was proud of you. If you had
heard my friends! It was a concert of congratulations: What a fortunate
fellow that Cayrol is! He is rich; he has a charming wife! You see,
Jeanne, thanks to you, in the eyes of all, my happiness is complete."

Jeanne frowned, and without answering, shook her head haughtily. Cayrol
continued, without noticing this forecast of a storm:

"They envy me; and I can understand it! I would not change places with
anybody. There, our friend Prince Panine is very happy; he has married a
woman whom he loves and who adores him. Well, he is not happier than I
am!"

Jeanne rose abruptly, and gave her husband a terrible look.

"Monsieur!" she cried with rage.

"I beg your pardon," said Cayrol, humbly; "I appear ridiculous to you,
but my happiness is stronger than I am, and I cannot hide my joy. You
will see that I can be gratef