carriages rolling in the distance. They often went out after that,
and chose in preference the paths near the pond of Madrid where, behind
sheltering shrubs, they sat talking and listening to the busy hum of
Parisian life, seemingly so far away.

One day, about four o'clock, Madame Desvarennes was going to Saint-Cloud
on business, and was crossing the Bois de Boulogne. Her coachman had
chosen the most unfrequented paths to save time. She had opened the
carriage-window, and was enjoying the lovely scent from the shrubs.
Suddenly a watering-cart stopped the way. Madame Desvarennes looked
through the window to see what was the matter, and remained stupefied.
At the turning of a path she espied Serge, with a woman on his arm. She
uttered a cry that caused the couple to turn round. Seeing that pale
face, they sought to hide themselves.

In a moment Madame Desvarennes was out of the carriage. The guilty
couple fled down a path. Without caring what might be said of her,
and goaded on by a fearful rage, she tried to follow them.
She especially wished to see the woman who was closely veiled.
She guessed her to be Jeanne. But the younger woman, terrified,
fled like a deer down a side walk. Madame Desvarennes, quite out of
breath, was obliged to stop. She heard the slamming of a carriage-door,
and a hired brougham that had been waiting at the end of the path swept
by her bearing the lovers toward the town.

The mistress hesitated a moment, then said to her coachman:

"Drive home." And, abandoning her business, she arrived in the Rue
Saint-Dominique a few minutes after the Prince.