And it was her husband who was aiding this inevitable and execrable meeting.

A bitter smile played on her lips.

There was something mournfully comic in this stubbornness of Cayrol's, in throwing her in the way of Serge.
Cayrol, embarrassed by Jeanne's silence, waited a moment.
"What is the matter ?" he asked.

"You are just like the Prince when I spoke to him on the subject." Jeanne turned away abruptly.

Cayrol's comparison was too direct.