It was amid the coming and going of customers and clerks that Prince Panine came the following day to find Cayrol. For the first time Serge had put himself out for the banker. He was introduced with marks of the most profound respect. The great name of Desvarennes seemed to cast a kind of halo round his head in the eyes of the clerks.
Cayrol, a little embarrassed, but still resolute, went toward him. Serge seemed nervous and somewhat abrupt in manner. He foresaw some difficulty.
“Well! my dear fellow,” he said, without sitting down. “What are you up to? I have waited since yesterday for the money you promised me.”
Cayrol scratched his ear, and felt taken aback by this plain speaking.
“Have you forgotten your engagement?” asked Serge, frowning.
“No,” replied Cayrol, speaking slowly, “but I met Madame Desvarennes yesterday.”
“And what had that to do with your intentions?”
“Zounds! It had everything to do with them. Your mother-in-law made a scene, and forbade my lending you any money. You must understand, my dear Prince, that my relations with Madame Desvarennes are important. I hold a great deal of money of hers in my bank. She first gave me a start. I cannot, without appearing ungrateful, act contrary to her will. Place yourself in my position, and judge impartially of the terrible alternative between obliging you and displeasing my benefactress.”
“Don’t cry; it is useless,” said Serge, with a scornful laugh. “I sympathize with your troubles. You side with the money-bags. It remains to be seen whether you will gain by it.”
“My dear Prince, I swear to you that I am in despair,” cried Cayrol, annoyed at the turn the interview was taking. “Listen; be reasonable! I don’t know what you have done to your mother-in-law, but she seems much vexed with you. In your place I would rather make a few advances than remain hostile toward Madame Desvarennes. That would mend matters, you see. Flies are not to be caught with vinegar.”
Serge looked contemptuously at Cayrol, and put on his hat with supreme insolence.
“Pardon me, my dear fellow; as a banker you are excellent when you have any money to spare, but as a moralist you are highly ridiculous.”
And, turning on his heel, he quitted the office, leaving Cayrol quite abashed. He passed along the corridor switching his cane with suppressed rage. Madame Desvarennes had, with one word, dried up the source from which he had been drawing most of the money which he had spent during the last three months. He had to pay a large sum that evening at the club, and he did not care to apply to the money-lenders of Paris.