What must she do?  Take him aside and tell him that she knew of his disloyal conduct, and tell him of her contempt and hatred for him?  And after that?  What would be the consequence of this outburst of violence?  The Prince, using his power over Micheline, would separate the daughter from the mother.  And Madame Desvarennes would be alone in her corner, abandoned like a poor dog, and would die of despair and anger.  What other course then?  She must dissemble, mask her face with indifference, if possible with tenderness, and undertake the difficult task of separating Micheline from the man whom she adored.  It was quite a feat of strategy to plan.  To bring out the husband’s faults and to make his errors known, and give her the opportunity of proving his worthlessness.  In a word, to make the young wife understand that she had married an elegant manikin, unworthy of her love.

It would be an easy matter to lay snares for Serge.  He was a gambler.  She could let him have ready money to satisfy his passion.  Once in the clutches of the demon of play, he would neglect his wife, and the mother might regain a portion of the ground she had lost.  Micheline’s fortune once broken into, she would interpose between her daughter and son-in-law.  She would make him pull up, and holding him tightly by her purse strings, would lead him whither she liked.

Already in fancy she saw her authority regained, and her daughter, her treasure, her life, true mistress of the situation, grateful to her for having saved her.  And then, she thought, a baby will come, and if Micheline is really my daughter, she will adore the little thing, and the blind love which she has given to her husband will be diminished by so much.

Serge did not know what an adversary he had against him in his mother-in-law.  It was a bad thing to cross the mistress when business matters were concerned, but now that her daughter’s happiness was at stake!  A smile came to her lips.  A firm resolution from that hour must guide her, and the struggle between her son-in-law and herself could only end by the crushing of one of them.

In the distance the music from the work-people’s ball was heard.  Madame Desvarennes mechanically bent her steps toward the tent under which the heavy bounds of the dancers reechoed.  Every now and then large shadows appeared on the canvas.  A joyful clamor issued from the ballroom.  Loud laughter resounded, mingled with piercing cries of tickled women.

The voice of the master of the ceremonies could be heard jocose and solemn:  “La poule!  Advance!  Set to partners!” Then the stamping of heavy shoes on the badly planed floor, and, above all, the melancholy sounds of the clarionet and the shrill notes of the cornet were audible.

At the entrance of the ballroom, surrounded by tables and stools, two barrels of wine on stands presented their wooden taps, ready for those who wanted to quench their thirst.  A large red mark under each barrel showed that the hands of the drinkers wire no longer steady.  A cake-seller had taken up his place at the other side, and was kneading a last batch of paste, while his apprentice was ringing a bell which hung over the iron cooking-stove to attract customers.  There was an odor of rancid butter, spilled wine, and paraffin oil.