error. 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.

"'Tis my mother," she said. "She is seeking you. I will leave you.
Adieu, and a thousand thanks from my very heart."

And nimbly springing behind a clump of lilac-trees in flower, Micheline
disappeared.

Pierre mechanically went toward the house. He ascended the marble steps
and entered the drawing-room. As he shut the door, Madame Desvarennes
appeared.

CHAPTER V. A CRITICAL INTERVIEW

Madame Desvarennes had been driven to the Hotel du Louvre without losing
a minute. She most wanted to know in what state of mind her daughter's
betrothed had arrived in Paris. Had the letter, which brutally told
him the truth, roused him and tightened the springs of his will? Was he
ready for the struggle?

If she found him confident and bold, she had only to settle with him as
to the common plan of action which must bring about the eviction of
the audacious candidate who wished to marry Micheline. If she found him
discouraged and doubtful of himself, she had decided to animate him with
her ardor against Serge Panine.

She prepared these arguments on the way, and, boiling with impatience,
outstripped in thought the fleet horse which was drawing her past the
long railings of the Tuileries toward the Hotel du Louvre. Wrapped in
her meditations she did not see Pierre. She was saying to herself:

"This fair-haired Polish dandy does not know with whom he has to deal.
He will see what sort of a woman I am. He has not risen early enough in
the morning to hoodwink me. If Pierre is only of the same opinion as I,
we shall soon spoil this fortune-hunter's work."

The carriage stopped.

"Monsieur Pierre Delarue?" inquired the mistress.

"Madame, he went out a quarter of an hour ago."

"To go where?"

"He did not say."

"Do you know whether he will be absent long?"

"I don't know."

"Much obliged."

Madame Desvarennes, quite discomfited by this mischance, reflected.
Where could Pierre have gone? Probably to her house. Without losing a
minute, she reentered the carriage, and gave orders to return to the Rue
Saint-Dominique. If he