nding toward Jeanne, she
looked into her very soul.

"Is it--" she began.

"No! no!" interrupted Jeanne, terrified at seeing that the mistress had
found out the truth.

"You deny it before I have pronounced the name?" said Madame Desvarennes
in a loud voice. "You read it then on my lips? Unhappy girl! The man whom
you love is the husband of my daughter!"

My daughter! The accent with which Madame Desvarennes pronounced the word
"my" was full of tragical power. It revealed the mother capable of doing
anything to defend the happiness of the child whom she adored. Serge had
calculated well. Between Jeanne and Micheline, Madame Desvarennes would
not hesitate. She would have allowed the world to crumble away to make of
its ruins a shelter where her daughter would be joyous and happy.

Jeanne had fallen back overwhelmed. The mistress raised her roughly. She
had no more consideration for her. It was necessary that she should
speak. Jeanne was the sole witness, and if the truth had to be got by
main force she should be made to speak it.

"Ah, forgive me!" moaned the young girl.

"It is not a question of that! In one word, answer me: Does he love you?"

"Do I know?"

"Did he tell you he did?"

"Yes."

"And he has married Micheline!" exclaimed Madame Desvarennes, with a
fearful gesture. "I distrusted him. Why did I not obey my instinct?"

And she began walking about like a lioness in a cage. Then, suddenly
stopping and placing herself before Jeanne, she continued:

"You must help me to save Micheline!"

She thought only of her own flesh and blood. Without hesitation,
unconsciously, she abandoned the other--the child of adoption. She
claimed the safety of her daughter as a debt.

"What has she to fear?" asked Jeanne, bitterly. "She triumphs, as she is
his wife."

"If he were to abandon her," said the mother with anguish. Then,
reflecting: "Still, he has sworn to me that he loved her."

"He lied!" cried Jeanne, with rage. "He wanted Micheline for her
fortune!"

"But why that?" inquired Madame Desvarennes, menacingly. "Is she not
pretty enough to have pleased him? Do you think that you are the only one
to be loved?"

"If I had been rich he would have married me!", replied Jeanne,
exasperated.

She had risen in revolt. They were treading too heavily on her. With a
ferocious cry of triumph; she added:

"The night he used his influence with me to get me to marry Cayrol, he
assured me so on his word of honor