Panine burst into laughter.

“You see what your threats are worth, and what value I place on them.  Spare them in the future.  You ask me what manner of man I am?  I will tell you.  I have not much patience, I hate to have my liberty interfered with, and I have a horror of family jars.  I expect to be master of my own house.”

Madame Desvarennes was roused at these words.  Her rage had abated on her daughter’s account, but now it rose to a higher pitch.

“Ah! so this is it, is it?” she said.  “You would like perfect liberty, I see!  You make such very good use of it.  You don’t like to hear remarks upon it.  It is more convenient, in fact!  You wish to be master in your own house?  In your own house!  But, in truth, what are you here to put on airs toward me?  Scarcely more than a servant.  A husband receiving wages from me!”

Serge, with flashing eyes, made a terrible movement.  He tried to speak, but his lips trembled, and he could not utter a sound.  By a sign he showed Madame Desvarennes the door.  The latter looked resolutely at the Prince, and with energy which nothing could henceforth soften, added: 

“You will have to deal with me in future!  Good-day!”

And, leaving the room with as much calmness as she felt rage when entering it, she went down to the counting-house.

Cayrol was sitting chatting with Marechal in his room.  He was telling him that Herzog’s rashness caused him much anxiety.  Marechal did not encourage his confidence.  The secretary’s opinion on the want of morality on the part of the financier had strengthened.  The good feeling he entertained toward the daughter had not counterbalanced the bad impression he had of the father, and he warmly advised Cayrol to break off all financial connection with such a man.  Cayrol, indeed, had now very little to do with the European Credit.  The office was still at his banking house, and the payments for shares were still made into his bank, but as soon as the new scheme which Herzog was preparing was launched, the financier intended settling in splendid offices which were being rapidly completed in the neighborhood of the Opera.  Herzog might therefore commit all the follies which entered his head.  Cayrol would be out of it.

Madame Desvarennes entered.  At the first glance, the men noticed the traces of the emotion she had just experienced.  They rose and waited in silence.  When the mistress was in a bad humor everybody gave way to her.  It was the custom.  She nodded to Cayrol, and walked up and down the office, absorbed in her own thoughts.  Suddenly stopping, she said: 

“Marechal, prepare Prince Panine’s account.”

The secretary looked up amazed, and did not seem to understand.

“Well!  The Prince has had an overdraft; you will give me a statement; that’s all!  I wish to see how we two stand.”

The two men, astonished to hear Madame Desvarennes speak of her son-in-law as she would of a customer, exchanged looks.