She halted there a moment, out of breath and almost choked with emotion. The long expected day had arrived. Serge was coming back to her. She went on, and as she reached the door of the stair leading to her mother’s rooms, she heard a light tap from without. Greatly astonished, she opened the door, and suddenly drew back, uttering an exclamation. A woman, thickly veiled, stood before her. At the sight of Micheline the stranger seemed inclined to turn and fly. But overcome with jealousy, the young wife seized her by the arm, dragged off her veil, and recognizing her, exclaimed: “Jeanne!” Madame Cayrol approached Micheline, and beseechingly stretched out her hands: “Micheline! don’t think--I come--” “Hold your tongue!” cried Micheline. “Don’t tell me any lies! I know all! You are my husband’s mistress!” Crushed by such a stroke, Jeanne hid her face in her hands and moaned: “O God!” “You must really be bold,” continued Micheline, in a furious tone, “to seek him here, in my house, almost in my arms!” Jeanne drew herself up, blushing with shame and grief. “Ah! don’t think,” she said, “that love brings me here.” “What is it then?” asked Micheline, contemptuously. “The knowledge of inevitable and pressing danger which threatens Serge.” “A danger! Of what kind?” “Compromised by Herzog, he is at the mercy of my husband, who has sworn to ruin him.” “Your husband!” “Yes, he is his rival. If you could ruin me, would you not do it?” said Jeanne. “You!” retorted Micheline, passionately. “Do you think I am going to worry about you? Serge is my first thought. You say you came to warn him. What must be done?” “Without a moment’s delay he must go away!” A strange suspicion crossed Micheline’s mind. She approached Jeanne, and looking earnestly at her, said: “He must go away without delay, eh? And it is you, braving everything, without a thought of the trouble you leave behind you, who come to warn him? Ah! you mean to go with him?” Jeanne hesitated a moment. Then, boldly and impudently, defying and almost threatening the legitimate wife: “Well, yes, I wish to! Enough of dissimulation! I love him!” she exclaimed. Micheline, transfigured by passion, 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!”