In 1866, at the moment when war broke out between Prussia and Austria,
Serge was eighteen years old. By his uncle's orders he had left Paris,
and had entered himself for the campaign in an Austrian cavalry regiment.
All who bore the name of Panine, and had strength to hold a sword or
carry a gun, had risen to fight the oppressor of Poland. Serge, during
this short and bloody struggle, showed prodigies of valor. On the night
of Sadowa, out of seven bearing the name of Panine, who had served
against Prussia, five were dead, one was wounded; Serge alone was
untouched, though red with the blood of his uncle Thaddeus, who was
killed by the bursting of a shell. All these Panines, living or dead,
had gained honors. When they were spoken of before Austrians or Poles,
they were called heroes.

Such a man was a dangerous companion for a young, simple, and artless
girl like Micheline. His adventures were bound to please her
imagination, and his beauty sure to charm her eyes. Cayrol was a prudent
man; he watched, and it was not long before he perceived that Micheline
treated the Prince with marked favor. The quiet young girl became
animated when Serge was there. Was there love in this transformation?
Cayrol did not hesitate. He guessed at once that the future would be
Panine's, and that the maintenance of his own influence in the house of
Desvarennes depended on the attitude which he was about to take. He
passed over to the side of the newcomer with arms and baggage, and placed
himself entirely at his disposal.

It was he who three weeks before, in the name of Panine, had made
overtures to Madame Desvarennes. The errand had been difficult, and the
banker had turned his tongue several times in his mouth before speaking.
Still, Cayrol could overcome all difficulties. He was able to explain the