In the drawing-room Jeanne and Serge remained standing, facing each other. The mask had fallen from their faces; the forced smile had disappeared. They looked at each other attentively, like two duellists seeking to read each other’s game, so that they may ward off the fatal stroke and prepare the decisive parry.
“Why did you leave for England three weeks ago, without seeing me and without speaking to me?”
“What could I have said to you?” replied the Prince, with an air of fatigue and dejection.
Jeanne flashed a glance brilliant as lightning:
“You could have told me that you had just asked for Micheline’s hand!”
“It would have been honest! But it would have necessitated an explanation, and you don’t like explaining. You have preferred leaving me to guess this news from the acts of those around me, and the talk of strangers.”
All these words had been spoken by Jeanne with feverish vivacity. The sentences were as cutting as strokes from a whip. The young girl’s agitation was violent; her cheeks were red, and her breathing was hard and stifled with emotion. She stopped for a moment; then, turning toward the Prince, and looking him full in the face, she said:
It was fainter than a whisper. As if she could not believe it, Jeanne repeated:
And as Panine in a firmer voice answered again, “Yes!” the young girl took two rapid steps and brought her flushed face close to him.
“And I, then?” she cried with a violence she could no longer restrain.
Serge made a sign. The drawing-room window was still open, and from outside they could be heard.
“Jeanne, in mercy calm yourself,” replied he. “You are in a state of excitement.”
“Which makes you uncomfortable?” interrupted the young girl mockingly.
“Yes, but for your sake only,” said he, coldly.
“Certainly. I fear your committing an imprudence which might harm you.”
“Yes; but you with me! And it is that only which makes you afraid.”
The Prince looked at Mademoiselle de Cernay, smilingly. Changing his tone, he took her hand in his.
“How naughty you are to-night! And what temper you are showing toward poor Serge! What an opinion he will have of himself after your displaying such a flattering scene of jealousy!”
“Ah, don’t try to joke. This is not the moment, I assure you. You don’t exactly realize your situation. Don’t you understand that I am prepared to tell Madame Desvarennes everything--”