Part 46 (1/2)
Micheline, transfigured by pa.s.sion, strong, and ready for a struggle, threw herself in Jeanne's way, with arms outstretched, as if to prevent her going to Serge.
”Well!” she said; ”try to take him from me!”
”Take him from you!” answered Jeanne, laughing like a mad woman. ”To whom does he most belong? To the woman who was as ignorant of his love as she was of his danger; who could do nothing toward his happiness, and can do nothing for his safety? Or to the mistress who has sacrificed her honor to please him and risks her safety to save him?”
”Ah! wretch!” cried Micheline, ”to invoke your infamy as a right!”
”Which of us has taken him from the other?” continued Jeanne, forgetting respect, modesty, everything. ”Do you know that he loved me before he married you? Do you know that he abandoned me for you--for your money, I should say? Now, do you wish to weigh what I have suffered with what you suffer? Shall we make out a balance-sheet of our tears? Then, you will be able to tell which of us he has loved more, and to whom he really belongs.”
Micheline had listened to this furious address almost in a state of stupor, and replied, vehemently:
”What matter who triumphs if his ruin is certain. Selfish creatures that we are, instead of disputing about his love, let us unite in saving him! You say he must go away! But flight is surely an admission of guilt--humiliation and obscurity in a strange land. And that is what you advise, because you hope to share that miserable existence with him.
You are urging him on to dishonor. His fate is in the hands of a man who adores you, who would sacrifice everything for you, as I would for Serge, and yet you have not thrown yourself at his feet! You have not offered your life as the price of your lover's! And you say that you love him!”
”Ah!” stammered Jeanne, distracted. ”You wish me to save him for you!”
”Is that the cry of your heart?” said Micheline, with crus.h.i.+ng disdain.
”Well, see what I am ready to do. If, to remove your jealous fears, it is necessary to sacrifice myself, I swear to you that if Serge be saved, he shall be perfectly free, and I will never see him again!”
Micheline, chaste and calm, with hands raised to Heaven, seemed to grow taller and n.o.bler. Jeanne, trembling and overpowered, looked at her rival with a painful effort, and murmured, softly:
”Would you do that?”
”I would do more!” said the lawful wife, bending before the mistress. ”I ought to hate you, and I kneel at your feet and beseech you to listen to me. Do what I ask you and I will forgive you and bless you. Do not hesitate! Follow me! Let us throw ourselves at the feet of him whom you have outraged. His generosity cannot be less than ours, and to us, who sacrifice our love, he will not be able to refuse to sacrifice his vengeance.”
This greatness and goodness awaked feelings in Jeanne's heart which she thought dead. She was silent for a moment and then her breast heaved with convulsive sobs, and she fell helpless into the arms which Micheline, full of pity, held out to her.
”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 n.o.bler 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 pa.s.sing. 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 a.s.sumed 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!”