not tell you the name
of this man now. But if perchance he by some impossibility reappeared
and threatened your happiness, I would myself--you understand,
me?--point him out to you!"

Cayrol remained thinking for, a moment; then addressing Madame
Desvarennes, replied:

"It is well. I have confidence in you."

Then turning toward Jeanne, he added:

"Forgive me and let everything be forgotten."

The mistress's face beamed with joy, as she followed their departing
figures with her eyes, and murmured:

"Brave hearts!"

Then, changing her expression:

"Now for the other one!" exclaimed she.

And she went out on to the terrace.

CHAPTER XII. THE FETE

The air was mild, the night clear and bright. Cayrol's carriage rolled
rapidly along the broad avenue of the park shadowed by tall trees,
the lanterns throwing, as they passed, their quivering light on the
thickets. The rumbling carriages took the last guests to the railway
station. It was past midnight. A nightingale began singing his song of
love to the stars.

Madame Desvarennes mechanically stopped to listen. A sense of sorrow
came over this mother who was a prey to the most cruel mental anguish.
She thought that she could have been very happy on that splendid night,
if her heart had been full of quietude and serenity. Her two daughters
were married; her last task was accomplished. She ought to have
nothing to do but enjoy life after her own fashioning, and be calm and
satisfied. Instead of that, here were fear and dissimulation taking
possession of her mind; and an ardent, pitiless struggle beginning
against the man who had deceived her daughter and lied to her. The bark
which carried her fortune, on reaching port, had caught fire, and it was
necessary to begin laboring again amid cares and pains.

A dull rage filled her heart. To have so surely built up the edifice
of her happiness, to have embellished it every hour, and then to see an
intruder audaciously taking possession of it, and making his despotic
and hateful authority prevail! And what could she do against this new
master? Nothing. He was marvellously protected by Micheline's mad
love for him. To strike Serge would be to wound Micheline, surely
and mortally. So this scoundrel could laugh at her and dare her with
impunity!

What must she do? Take him aside and tell him that she knew of his
disloyal conduct, and tell him of her contempt and hatred for him? And
after that? What would be the