idea had already occurred to her as a dream of deliverance. It came upon
her peremptorily, violently, irresistibly. She repelled it with an
effort.

"I can never think of him but as vile and odious," continued Micheline.
"Every day his sin will seem more dastardly and his hypocrisy more base.
There, a little while ago, he was smiling; and do you know why? Because
Cayrol is going away, and during his absence Serge will return here
tonight."

"Who told you?"

"I read it in his joyful looks. I love him. He cannot hide anything
from me. A traitor to me, and a traitor toward his friend, that is the
man whom--I am ashamed to own it--I love!"

"Compose yourself! Someone is coming," said Madame Desvarennes, and at
the same time the door opened and Jeanne appeared, followed by Marechal,
who was anxious at their disappearance.

"Is Micheline ill?" inquired Madame Cayrol, coming forward.

"No; it is nothing. Just a little fatigue," said Madame Desvarennes.
"Marechal, give my daughter your arm, and take her to her carriage. I
shall be down in a minute."

And holding Jeanne by the hand to prevent her following Micheline, she
added:

"Stay; I have something to say to you."