“Don’t cry out; it is too late, and would be useless,” replied the financier.  “Let me explain your position to you.  Your hands are tied.  You cannot dispose of a sou belonging to your wife without her consent.  It is true, you have influence over her, happily for you.  Still you must foresee that she will be guided by her mother.  A strong woman, too, the mother!  Ah, Prince, you have allowed yourself to be done completely.  I would not have thought it of you.”

Serge, nonplussed for a moment, regained his self-possession, and looked Herzog in the face: 

“I don’t know what idea you have formed of me, sir, and I don’t know what object you have in speaking thus to me.”

“My interest in you,” interrupted the financier.  “You are a charming fellow:  you please me much.  With your tastes, it is possible that in a brief time you may be short of money.  Come and see me:  I will put you into the way of business.  Au revoir, Prince.”

And without giving Serge time to answer him, Herzog reached the boudoir where his daughter was waiting with impatience.  Behind him came the Prince looking rather troubled.  The financier’s words had awakened importunate ideas in his mind.  Was it true that he had been duped by Madame Desvarennes, and that the latter, while affecting airs of greatness and generosity, had tied him like a noodle to her daughter’s apron-string?  He made an effort to regain his serenity.

“Micheline loves me and all will be well,” said he to himself.

Madame Desvarennes joined the young married people.  The rooms were clearing by degrees.  Serge took Cayrol apart.

“What are you going to do to-night, my dear fellow?

“You know an apartment has been prepared for you here?”

“Yes, I have already thanked Madame Desvarennes, but I mean to go back to Paris.  Our little paradise is prepared for us, and I wish to enter it to-night.  I have my carriage and horses here.  I am taking away my wife post-haste.”

“That is an elopement,” said Serge; gayly, “quite in the style of the regency!”

“Yes, my dear Prince, that’s how we bankers do it,” said Cayrol, laughing.

Then changing his tone: 

“See, I vibrate, I am palpitating.  I am hot and cold by turns.  Just fancy, I have never loved before; my heart is whole, and I love to distraction!”

Serge instinctively glanced at Jeanne.  She was seated, looking sad and tired.

Madame Desvarennes, between Jeanne and Micheline, had her arms twined round the two young girls.  Regret filled her eyes.  The mother felt that the last moments of her absolute reign were near, and she was contemplating with supreme adoration these two children who had grown up around her like two fragile and precious flowers.  She was saying to them,

“Well, the great day is over.  You are both married.  You don’t belong to me any longer.  How I shall miss you!  This morning I had two children, and now—­”