m Saint-Nazaire, came into the
harbor of Havre to sail on the 7th, bound for New York, and Pierre
Roland was to take possession of the little floating cabin in which
henceforth his life was to be confined.

Next day as he was going out, he met his mother on the stairs waiting
for him, to murmur in an almost inaudible voice:

"You would not like me to help you to put things to rights on board?"

"No, thank you. Everything is done."

Then she said:

"I should have liked to see your cabin."

"There is nothing to see. It is very small and very ugly."

And he went downstairs, leaving her stricken, leaning against the wall
with a wan face.

Now Roland, who had gone over the _Lorraine_ that very day, could talk
of nothing all dinner time but this splendid vessel, and wondered that
his wife should not care to see it as their son was to sail on board.

Pierre had scarcely any intercourse with his family during the days
which followed. He was nervous, irritable, hard, and his rough speech
seemed to lash every one indiscriminately. But the day before he left
he was suddenly quite changed, and much softened. As he embraced his
parents before going to sleep on board for the first time he said:

"You will come to say good-by to me on board, will you not?"

Roland exclaimed:

"Why, yes, of course--of course, Louise?"

"Certainly, certainly," she said in a low voice.

Pierre went on: "We sail at eleven precisely. You must be there by
half-past nine at the latest."

"Hah!" cried his father. "A good idea! As soon as we have bid you
good-bye, we will make haste on board the _Pearl_, and look out for
you beyond the jetty, so as to see you once more. What do you say,
Louise?"

"Certainly."

Roland went on: "And in that way you will not lose sight of us among
the crowd which throngs the breakwater when the great liners sail. It
is impossible to distinguish your own friends in the mob. Does that
meet your views?"

"Yes, to be sure; that is settled."

An hour later he was lying in his berth--a little crib as long and
narrow as a coffin. There he remained with his eyes wide open for a
long time, thinking over all that had happened during the last two
months of his life, especially in his own soul. By dint of suffering
and making others suffer, his aggressive and revengeful anguish had
lost its edge, like a blunted sword. He scarcely had the heart left in
him to owe any one or anything a grudge; he let his rebellious wra