ce with a tall young man with a long beard, who, seeing me pass,
called out, 'Ah, Cayrol!' It was Pierre. I only recognized him by his
voice. He is much changed; with his beard, and his complexion bronzed
like an African."

"What did he say to you?"

"Nothing. He pressed my hand. He looked at me for a moment with
glistening eyes. There was something on his lips which he longed to ask,
yet did not; but I guessed it. I was afraid of giving way to tenderness,
that might have ended in my saying something foolish, so I left him."

"How long ago is that?"

"About an hour ago. I only just ran home before coming on here. There
I found Panine waiting for me. He insisted upon accompanying me. I hope
you won't blame him?"

Madame Desvarennes frowned.

"I will not see him just now," she said, looking at Cayrol with a
resolute air. "Where did you leave him?"

"In the garden, where I found the young ladies."

As if to verify the banker's words, a merry peal of laughter was heard
through the half-open window. It was Micheline, who, with returning
gayety, was making up for the three weeks' sadness she had experienced
during Panine's absence.

Madame Desvarennes went to the window, and looked into the garden.
Seated on the lawn, in large bamboo chairs, the young girls were
listening to a story the Prince was telling. The morning was bright and
mild; the sun shining through Micheline's silk sunshade lit up her fair
head. Before her, Serge, bending his tall figure, was speaking with
animation. Micheline's eyes were softly fixed on him. Reclining in her
armchair, she allowed herself to be carried away with his conversation,
and thoroughly enjoyed his society, of which she had been deprived for
the last three weeks. Beside her, Jeanne, silently watching the Prince,
was mechanically nibbling, with her white teeth, a bunch of carnations
which she held in her hands. A painful thought contracted Mademoiselle
de Cernay's brow, and her pale lips on the red flowers seemed to be
drinking blood.

The mistress slowly turned away from this scene. A shadow had
crossed her brow, which had, for a moment, become serene again at the
announcement of Pierre's arrival. She remained silent for a little
while, as if considering; then coming to a resolution, and turning to
Cayrol, she said:

"Where is Pierre staying?"

"At the Hotel du Louvre," replied the banker.

"Well, I'm going there."

Madame Desvarennes rang the bell violently.

"My bo