"You see what your threats are worth, and what value I place on them.
Spare them in the future. You ask me what manner of man I am? I will
tell you. I have not much patience, I hate to have my liberty interfered
with, and I have a horror of family jars. I expect to be master of my
own house."

Madame Desvarennes was roused at these words. Her rage had abated on her
daughter's account, but now it rose to a higher pitch.

"Ah! so this is it, is it?" she said. "You would like perfect liberty,
I see! You make such very good use of it. You don't like to hear
remarks upon it. It is more convenient, in fact! You wish to be master
in your own house? In your own house! But, in truth, what are you here
to put on airs toward me? Scarcely more than a servant. A husband
receiving wages from me!"

Serge, with flashing eyes, made a terrible movement. He tried to speak,
but his lips trembled, and he could not utter a sound. By a sign he
showed Madame Desvarennes the door. The latter looked resolutely at the
Prince, and with energy which nothing could henceforth soften, added:

"You will have to deal with me in future! Good-day!"

And, leaving the room with as much calmness as she felt rage when
entering it, she went down to the countinghouse.

Cayrol was sitting chatting with Marechal in his room. He was telling
him that Herzog's rashness caused him much anxiety. Marechal did not
encourage his confidence. The secretary's opinion on the want of
morality on the part of the financier had strengthened. The good feeling