"I beg your pardon."

The young wife did not answer, but her eyes filled with tears; a smile
brightened her lips, and hurriedly taking his arm, she led him into the
drawing-room.

Dancing was going on there. The young ladies of Pontoise, and the cream
of Creil, had come to the fete, bent on not losing such an opportunity of
enjoying themselves. Under the watchful eyes of their mothers, who,
decked out in grand array, were seated along the walls, they were
gamboling, in spite of the stifling heat, with all the impetuosity of
young provincials habitually deprived of the pleasures of the ballroom.
Crossing the room, Micheline and Serge reached Madame Desvarennes's
boudoir.

It was delightfully cool in there. Cayrol had taken refuge there with
Jeanne, and Mademoiselle Susanne Herzog. This young girl felt
uncomfortable at being a third party with the newly-married couple, and
welcomed the arrival of the Prince and Micheline with pleasure. Her
father had left her for a moment in Cayrol's care; but she had not seen
him for more than an hour.

"Mademoiselle," said the Prince, gayly, "a little while ago, when I was
passing through the rooms, I heard these words: 'Loan, discount,
liquidation.' Your father must have been there. Shall I go and seek
him?"

"I should be very grateful," said the young girl.

"I will go."