Her thoughts again turned to him whom she wished to forget. She made an effort, but in vain. Serge was uppermost; he possessed her. She was afraid. Would she never be able to break off the remembrance? Would his name be ever on her lips, his face ever before her eyes?
Thank heaven! she was about to leave. Travelling, and the sight of strange places other than those where she had lived near Serge, would draw her attention from the persecution she suffered. Her husband was about to take her away, to defend her. It was his duty, and she would help him with energy. With all the strength of her will she summoned Cayrol. She clung violently to him as a drowning person catches at a straw, with the vigor of despair.
There was between Jeanne and Cayrol a sympathetic communication.
Mentally called by his wife, the husband appeared.
"Ah! at last!" said she.
Cayrol, surprised at this welcome, smiled. Jeanne, without noticing, added:
"Well, Monsieur; are we leaving soon?"
The banker's surprise increased. But as this surprise was decidedly an agreeable one he did not protest.
"In a moment, Jeanne, dear," he said.
"Why this delay?" asked the young wife, nervously.
"You will understand. There are more than twenty carriages before the front door. Our coachman is driving round, and we will go out by the conservatory door without being seen."