Pierre, Cayrol, and Madame Desvarennes met in Marechal’s private office.  Pierre declared that it was imperative to take strong measures and to speak to the Prince.  It was the duty of the mistress to enlighten Panine, who was no doubt Herzog’s dupe.

Madame Desvarennes shook her head sadly.  She feared that Serge was not a dupe but an accomplice.  And what could she tell him?  Let him ruin himself!  He would not believe her.  She knew how he received her advice and bore her remonstrances.

An explanation between her and Serge was impossible, and her interference would only hurry him into the abyss.

“Well, then, I will speak to him,” said Pierre, resolutely.

“No,” said Madame Desvarennes, “not you!  Only one here can tell him efficaciously what he must hear, and that is Cayrol.  Let us above all things keep guard over our words and our behavior.  On no account must Micheline suspect anything.”

Thus, at the most solemn moments, when fortune and honor, perhaps, were compromised, the mother thought of her daughter’s welfare and happiness.

Cayrol went up to the Prince’s rooms.  He had just come in, and was opening his letters, while having a cigarette in the smoking-room.  A door, covered by curtains, led to a back stair which opened into the courtyard.  Cayrol had gone up that way, feeling sure that by so doing he would not meet Micheline.

On seeing Jeanne’s husband, Serge rose quickly.  He feared that Cayrol had discovered everything, and instinctively stepped backward.  The banker’s manner soon undeceived him.  He was serious, but not in a rage.  He had evidently come on business.

“Well, my dear Cayrol,” said the Prince, gayly, “what good fortune has brought you here?”

“If it is fortune, it is certainly not good fortune,” answered the banker, gravely.  “I wish to have some talk with you, and I shall be grateful if you will listen patiently.”

“Oh! oh!” said Serge.  “How serious you are.  You have some heavy payments on hand, and want a little help, eh?  I will speak to Herzog.”

Cayrol looked at the Prince in amazement.  So he did not suspect anything?  Such carelessness and negligence frightened him.  The banker resolved to proceed clearly, and without beating about the bush; to do away with such blind confidence a thunderbolt was necessary.

“I have not come about my business, but yours,” returned Cayrol.  “The Universal Credit Company is on the eve of disaster; there is still time for you to withdraw safely and soundly from the sinking wreck.  I bring you the means.”

Serge laughed.

“Thank you, Cayrol; you are very kind, my friend.  I know your intentions are good, but I don’t believe a word you are saying.  You have come from Madame Desvarennes.  You are both agreed that I shall give up the Universal Credit, but I will not yield to any pressure.  I know what I am doing.  Be easy.”