speaking. You favor Prince Panine?"

"And you; you are on Pierre Delarue's side?"

"I take no side. I am only a subordinate, you know; I do not count."

"Do not attempt to deceive me. Your influence over the mistress is great.
The confidence she has in you is a conclusive proof. Important events are
about to take place here. 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. The Prince is beloved by Mademoiselle Desvarennes, and I
serve him. Micheline will be grateful, and will do me a turn with
Mademoiselle de Cernay. As to you, let me give you a little advice. If
Madame Desvarennes consults you, speak well of Panine. When the Prince is
master here, your position will be all the better for it."

Marechal had listened to Cayrol without anything betraying the impression
his words created. He looked at the banker in a peculiar manner, which
caused him to feel uncomfortable, and made him lower his eyes.

"Perhaps you do not know, Monsieur Cayrol," said the secretary, after a
moment's pause, "how I entered this firm. It is as well in that case to
inform you. Four years ago, I was most wretched. After having sought
fortune ten times without success, I felt myself giving way morally and
physically. There are some beings gifted with energy, who can surmount
all the difficulties of life. You are one of those. As for me, the
struggle exhausted my strength, and I came to grief. It would take too
long to enumerate all the ways of earning my living I tried. Few even fed
me; and I was thinking of putting an end to my miserable existence when I
met Pierre. We had been at college together. I went toward him; he was on
the quay. I dared to stop him. At first he did not recognize me, I was so
haggard, so wretched-looking! But when I spoke, he cried, 'Marechal!'
and, without blushing at my tatters, put his arms round my neck. We were
opposite the Belle Jardiniere, the clothiers; he wanted to rig me out. I
remember as if it were but yesterday I said, 'No, nothing, only find me
work!'--'Work, my poor fellow,' he answered, 'but just look at yourself;
who would have confidence to give you any? You look like a tramp, and
when you accosted me a little whil