there that is so hard to explain? And to whom should it be said?"

"To your mother," answered Serge, bowing his head.

"To my mother? Very well, I will go to her. Oh! don't fear anything.
I can defend you, and to strike you she will first have to attack me."

Serge put his arms round Micheline, and with a kiss, the hypocrite
inspired her whom he entrusted with his safety with indomitable courage.

"Wait for me here," added the young wife, and passing through the little
drawing-room she reached the smoking-room.

She halted there a moment, out of breath and almost choked with emotion.
The long expected day had arrived. Serge was coming back to her. She
went on, and as she reached the door of the stair leading to her mother's
rooms, she heard a light tap from without.

Greatly astonished, she opened the door, and suddenly drew back, uttering
an exclamation. A woman, thickly veiled, stood before her.

At the sight of Micheline the stranger seemed inclined to turn and fly.
But overcome with jealousy, the young wife seized her by the arm, dragged
off her veil, and recognizing her, exclaimed:

"Jeanne!"

Madame Cayrol approached Micheline, and beseechingly stretched out her
hands: