"Yes, but," replied Cayrol, "Madame Desvarennes will never allow Panine to take part in business."
"Who knows?" said Herzog. "We shall see how the marriage settlements are drawn up."
"But," cried Cayrol, "I would not have it said that I was leading Madame
Desvarennes's son-in-law into speculations."
"Who is speaking of that?" replied Herzog, coldly. "Am I seeking shareholders? I have more money than I want; I refuse millions every day."
"Oh, I know capitalists run after you," said Cayrol, laughingly; "and to welcome them you affect the scruples of a pretty woman. But let us go and congratulate the Prince."
While Cayrol and Herzog were exchanging those few words which had such a considerable influence on the future of Serge Panine—a scene, terrible in its simplicity, was going on without being noticed. Micheline had thrown herself with a burst of tenderness into her mother's arms. Serge was deeply affected by the young girl's affection for him, when a trembling hand touched his arm. He turned round. Jeanne de Cernay was before him, pale and wan; her eyes sunken into her head like two black nails, and her lips tightened by a violent contraction. The Prince stood thunderstruck at the sight of her. He looked around him. Nobody was observing him. Pierre was beside Marechal, who was whispering those words which only true friends can find in the sad hours of life. Madame Desvarennes was holding Micheline in her arms. Serge approached Mademoiselle de Cernay. Jeanne still fixed on him the same menacing look. He was afraid.
"Take care!" he said.
"Of what?" asked the young girl, with a troubled voice. "What have I to fear now?"
"What do you wish?" resumed Panine, with old firmness, and with a gesture of impatience.
"I wish to speak with you immediately."