It was indeed Prince Serge, who was expected by Cayrol with impatience, by Madame Desvarennes with silent irritation, by Pierre with deep anguish.  The handsome prince, calm and smiling, with white cravat and elegantly fitting dress-coat which showed off his fine figure, advanced toward Madame Desvarennes before whom he bowed.  He seemed only to have seen Micheline’s mother.  Not a look for the two young girls or the men who were around him.  The rest of the universe did not seem to count.  He bent as if before a queen, with a dash of respectful adoration.  He seemed to be saying: 

“Here I am at your feet; my life depends on you; make a sign and I shall be the happiest of men or the most miserable.”

Micheline followed him with eyes full of pride; she admired his haughty grace and his caressing humility.  It was by these contrasts that Serge had attracted the young girl’s notice.  She felt herself face to face with a strange nature, different from men around her, and had become interested in him.  Then he had spoken to her, and his sweet penetrating voice had touched her heart.

What he had achieved with Micheline he longed to achieve with her mother.  After placing himself at the feet of the mother of her whom he loved, he sought the road to her heart.  He took his place beside the mistress and spoke.  He hoped that Madame Desvarennes would excuse the haste of his visit.  The obedience which he had shown in going away must be a proof to her of his submission to her wishes.  He was her most devoted and respectful servant.  He resigned himself to anything she might exact of him.

Madame Desvarennes listened to that sweet voice; she had never heard it so full of charm.  She understood what influence this sweetness had exercised over Micheline; she repented not having watched over her more carefully, and cursed the hour that had brought all this evil upon them.  She was obliged, however, to answer him.  The mistress went straight to the point.  She was not one to beat about the bush when once her mind was made up.

“You come, no doubt, sir, to receive an answer to the request you addressed to me before your departure for England!”

The Prince turned slightly pale.  The words which Madame Desvarennes was about to pronounce were of such importance to him that he could not help feeling moved.  He answered, in a suppressed tone: 

“I would not have dared to speak to you on the subject, Madame, especially in public; but since you anticipate my desire, I admit I am waiting with deep anxiety for one word from you which will decide my fate.”

He continued bent before Madame Desvarennes like a culprit before his judge.  The mistress was silent for a moment, as if hesitating before answering, and then said, gravely: 

“That word I hesitated to pronounce, but some one in whom I have great confidence has advised me to receive you favorably.”

“He, Madame, whoever he may be, has gained my everlasting gratitude.”