Desvarennes's private office,
holding a little square piece of paper. Without speaking a word, he
placed it on the desk. The mistress took it, read what was written upon
it in shaky handwriting, and suddenly becoming purple, rose. The paper
bore these simple words:

"Received from Monsieur Salignon the sum of one hundred thousand francs.
Serge Panine."

"Who brought this paper?" asked Madame Desvarennes, crushing it between
her fingers.

"The waiter who attends the card-room at the club."

"The waiter?" cried Madame Desvarennes, astonished.

"Oh, he is a sort of banker," said Marechal. "These gentlemen apply to
him when they run short of money. The Prince must have found himself in
that predicament. Still he has just received the rents for the property
in the Rue de Rivoli."

"The rents!" grumbled Madame Desvarennes, with an energetic movement.
"The rents! A drop of water in a river! You don't know that he is a man
to lose the hundred thousand francs which they claim, in one night."

The mistress paced up and down the room. She suddenly came to a
standstill. "If I don't stop him, the rogue will sell the feather-bed
from under my daughter! But he shall have a little of my mind! He has
provoked me long enough. Pay it! I'll take my money's worth out of him."

And in a second, Madame Desvarennes was in the Prince's room.

Serge, after a delicate breakfast, was smoking and dozing on the
smoking-room sofa. The night had been a heavy one for him. He had won
two hundred and fifty thousand francs from Ibrahim Bey, then he had lost
all, besides five thousand louis advanced by the obliging Salignon. He
had told the waiter to come to the Rue Saint-Dominique, and by mistake
the man had gone to the office.

The sudden opening of the smoking-room door roused Serge. He unclosed
his eyes and looked very much astonished at seeing Madame Desvarennes
appear. Pale, frowning, and holding the accusing paper in her hand, she
angrily inquired:

"Do you recognize that?" and placed the receipt which he had signed,
before him, as he slowly rose.

Serge seized it quickly, and then looking coldly at his mother-in-law,
said:

"How did this paper come into your hands?"

"It has just been brought to my cashier. A hundred thousand francs!
Faith! You are going ahead! Do you know how many bushels of corn must be
ground to earn that?"

"I beg your pardon, Madame," said the Prince, interrupting Madame
Desvarennes. "I don't suppose you c