osts!"

But he did not grudge his money. He knew he would get the interest of it
back. On one subject he was anxious--Mademoiselle de Cernay's health.
Since the day of their engagement, Jeanne had become more serious and
dull. She had grown thin and her eyes were sunken as if she wept in
secret. When he spoke of his fears to Madame Desvarennes, the latter
said:

"These young girls are so senseless. The notion of marriage puts them in
such an incomprehensible state! Look at my daughter. She chatters like a
magpie and skips about like a kid. She has two glow-worms under her
eyelids! As to Jeanne, that's another affair; she has the matrimonial
melancholy, and has the air of a young victim. Leave them alone; it will
all come right. But you must admit that the gayety of the one is at least
as irritating as the languor of the other!"

Cayrol, somewhat reassured by this explanation, and thinking, like her,
that it was the uncertainties of marriage which were troubling Jeanne, no
longer attached any importance to her sad appearance. Micheline and Serge
isolated themselves completely. They fled to the garden as soon as any
one ventured into the drawing room, to interrupt their tete-a-tete. If
visitors came to the garden they took refuge in the conservatory.

This manoeuvre pleased Serge, because he always felt uncomfortable in
Jeanne's presence. Mademoiselle de Cernay had a peculiar wrinkle on her
brow whenever she saw Micheline passing before her hanging on the arm of
the Prince, which tormented him. They were obliged to meet at table in
the evening, for Serge and Cayrol dined at the Rue Saint-Dominique. The
Prince talked in whispers to Micheline, but every now and then he was
obliged to speak to Jeanne. These were painful moments to Serge. He was
always in dread of some outburst, knowing her ardent and passionate
nature. Thus, before Jeanne, he made Micheline behave in a less
demonstrative manner. Mademoiselle Desvarennes was proud of this reserve,
and thought it was tact and good breeding on the part of the Prince,
without doubting that what she thought reserve in the man of the world
was the prudence of an anxious lover.

Jeanne endured the tortures of Hades. Too proud to say anything after the
explanation she had had with Serge, too much smitten to bear calmly the
sight of her rival's happiness, she saw draw near with deep horror the
moment when she would belong to the man whom she had determined to marry
although she