fe," added he with a frankness
which drew a smile from Pierre. "But my wife and I are one."

"What did she say?" asked Madame Desvarenes, looking straight at Cayrol.

"If I had been the person concerned," he said, "she could not possibly
have been more affected. She loves you so much, Madame, you and those
belonging to you. She besought me to do all in my power to get the
Prince out of this scrape. She had tears in her eyes: And, truly, if
I did not feel bound to serve you from gratitude I would do it for her
sake and to give her pleasure. I was touched, I can assure you. Really,
she has a heart!"

Marechal exchanged a look with Madame Desvarennes, who advanced toward
the banker, and shook him by the hand, saying:

"Cayrol, you are truly a good man!"

"I know it," said Cayrol, smiling to hide his emotion, "and you may rely
upon me."

Micheline appeared on the threshold of the room. Through the half-open
door the dancers could be seen passing to and fro, and the sound of
music floated in the air.

"What has become of you, mamma? I hear that you have been here for more
than an hour."

"I was talking on business matters with these gentlemen," answered
Madame Desvarennes, smoothing from her brow the traces of her cares by
an effort of will. "But you, dear, how do you feel? Are you not tired?"

"Not more so than usual," replied Micheline, looking round to follow the
movements of her husband, who was trying to reach Jeanne.

"Why did you come to this party? It was unwise."

"Serge wished me to come, and I did not care to let him come without
me."

"Eh! dear me!" exclaimed Madame Desvarennes. "Let him do what he likes.
Men are savages. When you are ill it won't hurt him."

"I am not ill, and I won't be," resumed Micheline, warmly. "We are going
away now."

She motioned to Serge with her fan. Panine came to her.

"You will take me home, won't you, Serge?"

"Certainly, dear one," answered Serge.

Jeanne, who was listening at a distance, raised her hand to her forehead
as a sign that she wanted him. A feeling of surprise came over the
Prince, and he did not understand what she meant. Micheline had seen the
sign. A deadly pallor spread over her features, and a cold perspiration
broke out on her forehead. She felt so ill that she could have cried
out. It was the first time she had seen Serge and Jeanne together
since the dreadful discovery at Nice. She had avoided witnessing
their meeting, feeling uncertain of