"I will not see him just now," she said, looking at Cayrol with a
resolute air. "Where did you leave him?"

"In the garden, where I found the young ladies."

As if to verify the banker's words, a merry peal of laughter was heard
through the half-open window. It was Micheline, who, with returning
gayety, was making up for the three weeks' sadness she had experienced
during Panine's absence.

Madame Desvarennes went to the window, and looked into the garden.
Seated on the lawn, in large bamboo chairs, the young girls were
listening to a story the Prince was telling. The morning was bright and
mild; the sun shining through Micheline's silk sunshade lit up her fair
head. Before her, Serge, bending his tall figure, was speaking with
animation. Micheline's eyes were softly fixed on him. Reclining in her
armchair, she allowed herself to be carried away with his conversation,
and thoroughly enjoyed his society, of which she had been deprived for
the last three weeks. Beside her, Jeanne, silently watching the Prince,
was mechanically nibbling, with her white teeth, a bunch of carnations
which she held in her hands. A painful thought contracted Mademoiselle
de Cernay's brow, and her pale lips on the red flowers seemed to be
drinking blood.

The mistress slowly turned away from this scene. A shadow had crossed
her brow, which had, for a moment, become serene again at the
announcement of Pierre's arrival. She remained silent for a little
while, as if considering; then coming to a resolution, and turning to
Cayrol, she said: