Books: Serge Panine, v4
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Georges Ohnet >> Serge Panine, v4
"Forgive me," moaned the unhappy woman. "I am conquered. Your rights
are sacred, and you have just made them still more so. Keep Serge: with
you he will once more become honest and happy, because, if your love is
not greater than mine, it is nobler and purer."
The two women went hand in hand to try to save the man whom they both
adored.
All this time Serge remained in the little drawing-room enjoying the hope
of returning peace. It was sweet to him, after the troubles he had gone
through. He had not the slightest suspicion of the scene in the
adjoining room between Jeanne and Micheline. The fond heroism of his
wife and the self-denial of his mistress were unknown to him.
Time was passing. At least an hour had sped since Micheline left him to
go to her mother, and Serge was beginning to think that the interview was
very long, when a light step made him tremble. It came from the gallery.
He thought it was Micheline, and opening the door, he went to meet her.
He drew back disappointed, vexed, and anxious, when he found it was
Pierre. The two men had never met alone since that terrible night at
Nice. Panine assumed a bold demeanor, and returned Pierre's firm look.
Steadying his voice, he said:
"Ah! is it you?"
"Were you not expecting me?" answered Pierre whose harsh voice thrilled
Serge.
The Prince opened his mouth to speak, but Pierre, did not give him time.
In stern and provoking accents, he continued:
"I made you a promise once; have you forgotten it? I have a good memory.
You are a villain, and I come to chastise you!"
"Pierre!" exclaimed the Prince, starting fiercely.
But he suddenly calmed himself, and added:
"Leave me! I will not listen to you!"
"You will have to, though! You are a source of trouble and shame to the
family to which you have allied yourself, and as you have not the courage
to kill yourself, I have come to help you. You must leave Paris to-
night, or you will be arrested. We shall go together to Brussels and
there we shall fight. If chance favors you, you will be at liberty to
continue your infamies, but at any rate I shall have done my best to rid
two unfortunate women of your presence."
"You are mad!" said Serge, sneeringly.
"Don't think so! And know that I am ready for any emergency. Come; must
I strike you, to give you courage?" growled Pierre, ready to suit the
action to the word.
"Ah! take care!" snarled Serge, with an evil look.
And opening a drawer which was close to him, he took out a revolver.
"Thief first, then murderer!" said Pierre, with a terrible laugh.
"Come, let's see you do it!"
And he was going toward the Prince when the door opened, and Madame
Desvarennes came forward. Placing her hand on Pierre's shoulder, she
said, in that commanding tone which few could resist:
"Go; wait for me in my room. I wish it!"
Pierre bowed, and, without answering, went out.
Serge had placed the pistol on the table and was waiting.
"We have to talk over several matters," said Madame Desvarennes, gravely,
"and you know it."
"Yes, Madame," answered Panine, sadly, "and, believe me, no one judges my
conduct more severely than I do."
The mistress could not help looking surprised.
"Ah!" she said, with irony, "I did not expect to find you in such a
mood. You have not accustomed me to such humility and sweetness. You
must be afraid, to have arrived at that stage!"
The Prince appeared not to have understood the implied insult in his
mother-in-law's words. One thing struck him, which was that she
evidently did not expect to find him repentant and humbled.
"Micheline must have told you," he began.
"I have not seen my daughter," interrupted the mistress, sharply, as if
to make him understand that he must depend solely upon himself.
Ignorant that Micheline had met Jeanne on her way to her mother, and had
gone to Cayrol, Serge thought he was abandoned by his only powerful ally.
He saw that he was lost and that his feigned resignation was useless.
Unable to control himself any longer, his face darkened with rage.
"She, too, against me! Well! I will defend myself alone!"
Turning toward Madame Desvarennes, he added:
"To begin with, what do you want with me?"
"I wish to ask you a question. We business folk when we fail, and cannot
pay our way, throw blood on the blot and it disappears. You members of
the nobility, when you are disgraced, how do you manage?"
"If I am not mistaken, Madame," answered the Prince, in a light tone,
"you do me the favor of asking what my intentions are for the future?
I will answer you with precision. I purpose leaving to-night for Aix-la-
Chapelle, where I shall join my friend Herzog. We shall begin our
business again. My wife, on whose good feelings I rely, will accompany
me, notwithstanding everything."
And in these last words he put all the venom of his soul.
"My daughter will not leave me!" exclaimed Madame Desvarennes.
"Very well, then, you can accompany her," retorted Panine. "That
arrangement will suit me. Since my troubles I have learned to appreciate
domestic happiness."
"Ah! you hope to play your old games on me," said Madame Desvarennes.
"You won't get much out of me. My daughter and I with you--in the stream
where you are going to sink? Never!"
"Well, then," cried Panine, "what do you expect?"
A violent ring at the front door resounded as Madame Desvarennes was
about to answer, and stopped the words on her lips. This signal, which
was used only on important occasions, sounded to Madame like a funeral
knell. Serge frowned, and instinctively moved back.
Marechal appeared through the half-open door with a scared face, and
silently handed Madame Desvarennes a card. She glanced at it, turned
pale, and said to the secretary:
"Very well, let him wait!" She threw the card on the table. Serge came
forward and read:
"Delbarre, sheriff's officer."
Haggard-looking and aghast, he turned to the mistress, as if seeking an
explanation.
"Well!" she observed: "it is clear, he has come to arrest you."
Serge rushed to a cabinet, and opening a drawer, took forth some handfuls
of gold and notes, which he crammed into his pockets.
"By the back stairs I shall have time to get away. It is my last chance!
Keep the man for five minutes only."
"And if the door is guarded?" asked Madame Desvarennes.
Serge remained abject before her. He felt himself enclosed in a ring
which he could not break through.
"One may be prosecuted without being condemned," he gasped. "You will
use your influence, I know, and you will get me out of this mess. I
shall be grateful to you for ever, and will do anything you like! But
don't leave me, it would be cowardly!"
He trembled, as he thus besought her distractedly.
"The son-in-law of Madame Desvarennes does not go before the Assize
Courts even to be acquitted," said she, with a firm voice.
"What would you have me do?" cried Serge, passionately.
Madame Desvarennes did not answer, but pointed to the revolver on the
table.
"Kill myself? Ah! no; that would be giving you too much pleasure."
And he gave the weapon a push, so that it rolled close to Madame
Desvarennes.
"Ah! wretch!" cried she, giving way to her suppressed rage. "You are
not even a Panine! The Panines knew how to die."
"I have not time to act a melodrama with you," snarled Serge. "I am
going to try to save myself."
And he took a step toward the door.
The mistress seized the revolver, and threw herself before him.
"You shall not go out!" she cried.
"Are you mad?" he exclaimed, gnashing his teeth.
"You shall not go out!" repeated the mistress, with flashing eyes.
"We shall see!"
And with a strong arm he seized Madame Desvarennes, and threw her aside.
The mistress became livid. Serge had his hand on the handle of the door.
He was about to escape. Madame Desvarennes's arm was stretched forth.
A shot made the windows rattle; the weapon fell from her hand, having
done its work and, amid the smoke, a body dropped heavily on the carpet,
which was soon dyed with blood.
At the same moment, the door opened, and Micheline entered, holding in
her hand the fatal receipt which she had just wrung from Cayrol. The
young wife uttered a heartrending cry, and fell senseless on Serge's
body.
Behind Micheline came the officer and Marechal. The secretary exchanged
looks with the mistress, who was lifting her fainting daughter and
clasping her in her arms. He understood all.
Turning toward his companion, he said:
"Alas! sir, here is a sad matter! The Prince, on hearing that you had
come, took fright, although his fault was not very serious, and has shot
himself."
The officer bowed respectfully to the mistress, who was bending over
Micheline.
"Please to withdraw, Madame. You have already suffered too much," said
he. "I understand your legitimate grief. If I need any information,
this gentleman will give it to me."
Madame Desvarennes arose, and, without bending under the burden, she bore
away on her bosom her daughter, regained.
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