But now, while receiving visits and speaking of business, he avoided thinking of the unexpected resistance. How was this! She—the woman for whom the highest favor, the pinnacle of happiness had been the possibility of remaining at the head of his house, in the brilliancy of wealth and general respect, dared—had the shamelessness to oppose his will! He felt such contempt that, in thought, he threw that woman on the ground to trample her; in spite of this, that, almost unconsciously, he ascribed the blame not to her, but to Irene. Almost unconsciously he saw the tall young lady; she stood before his eyes, cold and distinguished; she, who at the foot of the stairway, in the down of her black fur cloak, with an almost hard glitter in her eyes, under the fantastic hat, had said: "That ball will not be given."
That was Irene. The other woman could not have risen to this act. Did he not know her? She had always been so mild and weak—powerless, pitiable! She could not command such energy! It was Irene!
With these thoughts he pressed the hand of the last guest, and said to him at the threshold, that there was absolute need for the commercial company of which they had been talking to gain a broader foundation of activity by obtaining more and surer sources of credit.
"Credit, my dear sir, credit is the first letter in the alphabet of contemporary finance. Send some man to the capital—some man—"
He hesitated here, thinking "It was Irene!" Then he finished:
"Some man with proper authority and weight—best of all that person of whom we have been speaking. Such is my advice."
After the last bow of the guest they closed the door of the anteroom. Darvid turned and saw Irene standing at the round table. That day, while passing on the stairs, when she was returning from a trip to the city, and he was hastening to the carriage waiting for him, they had greeted each other hurriedly and in passing. He had not a moment's time then to talk with her; she, too, was in a hurry, for she ran up the stairs quickly.
"Bon jour, pere!" said she, inclining her head with swift movement.
"Bon jour, Irene," answered he, touching his hat. Behind him moved the secretary, carrying a heavy portfolio of papers; after her went some merchant's servant with packages. No greeting was necessary now. Irene, standing at the table, began to speak at once:
"I have come, father, to beg you in mamma's name and my own for a half-an-hour's conversation, but to-day, now, absolutely."