d feet
frozen, made haste home and threw himself on his bed to take a nap
till dinner-time. When he made his appearance in the dining-room his
mother was saying to Jean:

"The glass corridor will be lovely. We will fill it with flowers. You
will see. I will undertake to care for them and renew them. When you
give a party the effect will be quite fairy like."

"What in the world are you talking about?" the doctor asked.

"Of a delightful apartment I have just taken for your brother. It is
quite a find; an entresol looking out on two streets. There are two
drawing-rooms, a glass passage, and a little circular dining-room,
perfectly charming for a bachelor's quarters."

Pierre turned pale.

"Where is it?" he asked.

"Boulevard Francois, 1er."

There was no possibility for doubt. He took his seat in such a state
of exasperation that he longed to exclaim: "This is really too much!
Is there nothing for any one but him?"

His mother, beaming, went on talking: "And only fancy, I got it for
two thousand eight hundred francs a year. They asked three thousand,
but I got a reduction of two hundred francs on taking for three, six,
or nine years. Your brother will be delightfully housed there. An
elegant home is enough to make the fortune of a lawyer. It attracts
clients, charms them, holds them fast, commands respect, and shows
them that a man who lives in such good style expects a good price for
his words."

She was silent for a few seconds and then went on:

"We must look out for something suitable for you; much less
pretentious, since you have nothing, but nice and pretty all the same.
I assure you it will be to your advantage."

Pierre replied contemptuously:

"For me! Oh, I shall make my way by hard work and learning."

But his mother insisted: "Yes, but I assure you that to be well lodged
will be of use to you nevertheless."

About half-way through the meal he suddenly asked:

"How did you first come to know this man Marechal?"

Old Roland looked up and racked his memory:

"Wait a bit; I scarcely recollect. It is such an old story now. Ah,
yes, I remember. It was your mother who made acquaintance with him in
the shop, was it not, Louise? He first came to order something, and
then he called frequently. We knew him as a customer before we knew
him as a friend."

Pierre, who was eating beans, sticking his fork into them one by one
as if he were spitting them, went on:

"And when was it that you made his