The banking-house of Cayrol had not a very imposing appearance.  It was a narrow two-storied building, the front blackened by time.  There was a carriage gateway, on the right-hand side of which was the entrance to the offices.  The stairs leading to the first floor were covered by a well-worn carpet.  Here was a long corridor into which the different offices opened.  On their glass doors might be read:  “Payments of dividends.”  “Accounts.”  “Foreign correspondence.”  “General office.”  Cayrol’s own room was quite at the end, and communicated with his private apartments.  Everything breathed of simplicity and honesty.  Cayrol had never tried to throw dust into people’s eyes.  He had started modestly when opening the bank; his business had increased, but his habits had remained the same.  It was not a difficult matter to obtain an interview, even by people not known to him.  They sent in their cards, and were admitted to his sanctum.

It was amid the coming and going of customers and clerks that Prince Panine came the following day to find Cayrol.  For the first time Serge had put himself out for the banker.  He was introduced with marks of the most profound respect.  The great name of Desvarennes seemed to cast a kind of halo round his head in the eyes of the clerks.

Cayrol, a little embarrassed, but still resolute, went toward him.  Serge seemed nervous and somewhat abrupt in manner.  He foresaw some difficulty.

“Well! my dear fellow,” he said, without sitting down.  “What are you up to?  I have waited since yesterday for the money you promised me.”

Cayrol scratched his ear, and felt taken aback by this plain speaking.

“The fact is—­” stammered he.

“Have you forgotten your engagement?” asked Serge, frowning.

“No,” replied Cayrol, speaking slowly, “but I met Madame Desvarennes yesterday.”

“And what had that to do with your intentions?”

“Zounds!  It had everything to do with them.  Your mother-in-law made a scene, and forbade my lending you any money.  You must understand, my dear Prince, that my relations with Madame Desvarennes are important.  I hold a great deal of money of hers in my bank.  She first gave me a start.  I cannot, without appearing ungrateful, act contrary to her will.  Place yourself in my position, and judge impartially of the terrible alternative between obliging you and displeasing my benefactress.”

“Don’t cry; it is useless,” said Serge, with a scornful laugh.  “I sympathize with your troubles.  You side with the money-bags.  It remains to be seen whether you will gain by it.”

“My dear Prince, I swear to you that I am in despair,” cried Cayrol, annoyed at the turn the interview was taking.  “Listen; be reasonable!  I don’t know what you have done to your mother-in-law, but she seems much vexed with you.  In your place I would rather make a few advances than remain hostile toward Madame Desvarennes.  That would mend matters, you see.  Flies are not to be caught with vinegar.”