sure of not being repulsed with haughtiness, he questioned Serge. Did he
love Mademoiselle de Cernay? This question, asked in a trembling voice
and with a constrained smile, found the Prince quite calm. He answered
lightly that Mademoiselle de Cernay was a very agreeable partner, but
that he had never dreamed of offering her his homage. He had other
projects in his head. Cayrol pressed the Prince's hand violently, made a
thousand protestations of devotedness, and finally obtained his complete
confidence.

Serge loved Mademoiselle Desvarennes, and it was to become intimate with
her that he had so eagerly sought her friend's company. Cayrol, in
learning the Prince's secret, resumed his usual reserved manner. He knew
that Micheline was engaged to Pierre Delarue, but still, women were so
whimsical! Who could tell? Perhaps Mademoiselle Desvarennes had looked
favorably upon the handsome Serge.

He was really admirable to view, this Panine, with his blue eyes, pure as
a maiden's, and his long fair mustache falling on each side of his rosy
mouth. He had a truly royal bearing, and was descended from an ancient
aristocratic race; he had a charming hand and an arched foot, enough to
make a woman envious. Soft and insinuating with his tender voice and
sweet Sclavonic accent, he was no ordinary man, but one usually creating
a great impression wherever he went.

His story was well known in Paris. He was born in the province of Posen,
so violently seized on by Prussia, that octopus of Europe. Serge's
father had been killed during the insurrection of 1848, and he, when a
year old, was brought by his uncle, Thaddeus Panine, to France, and was
educated at the College Rollin, where he had not acquired over much
learning.