“But the numbers of the shares will not be the same,” said Madame Desvarennes, accustomed to minute regularity in all operations.

“We can explain the change by feigning a sale when they were high, and buying them up when low.  We will show a profit, and the shareholders will not quarrel.  Besides, I reserve the right of divulging Herzog’s fraud without implicating Panine, if the shareholders insist.  Trust me, I will catch Herzog another time.  It is my stupid confidence in that man which has been partly the cause of this disaster.  I will make your business mine and force him to shell out.  I shall leave for London to-night, by the 1.50 train.  Promptness of action in such a case is the first step toward success.”

“Thank you, Cayrol,” said the mistress.  “Have my daughter and the Prince arrived?”

“Yes, Serge is calm; he has more power over himself than I could have believed.”

“What does it matter to him what is going on?  Is it he who will feel the blow?  No.  He knows that I shall go on working to keep him in idleness and maintain him in luxury.  I may think myself lucky if he is reclaimed by this hard lesson, and does not again begin to rummage in other people’s safes, for then I should be unable to save him.”

The mistress rose and, with flashing eyes, walked up and down the room.

“Oh, the wretch!” she said.  “If ever my daughter ceases to come between him and me!”

A terrible gesture finished the sentence.

Cayrol, Marechal, and Pierre looked at each other.  The same thought came to their minds, dark and fearful.  In a paroxysm of rage this fond mother, this energetic and passionate woman, would be capable of killing any one.

“You remember what I told you one day,” murmured Marechal, approaching Cayrol.

“I would prefer the hatred of ten men to that of such a woman,” answered Cayrol.

“Cayrol!” continued Madame Desvarennes, after a few moments of meditation, “the conduct of the business of which you spoke to us a little while ago depends solely on you, does it not?”

“On me alone.”

“Do it at once, then, cost me what it may.  Has it been noised abroad?”

“No one has the slightest suspicion.  I have not mentioned it to a living soul,” said the banker—­“except to my wife,” added he with a frankness which drew a smile from Pierre.  “But my wife and I are one.”

“What did she say?” asked Madame Desvarenes, looking straight at Cayrol.

“If I had been the person concerned,” he said, “she could not possibly have been more affected.  She loves you so much, Madame, you and those belonging to you.  She besought me to do all in my power to get the Prince out of this scrape.  She had tears in her eyes:  And, truly, if I did not feel bound to serve you from gratitude I would do it for her sake and to give her pleasure.  I was touched, I can assure you.  Really, she has a heart!”