No one could talk; they had too much to think about and nothing to
say. Mme. Roland alone attempted a few commonplace remarks. She gave an
account of the fishing excursion, and sang the praises of the Pearl and
of Mme. Rosemilly.

"Charming, charming!" the lawyer said again and again.

Roland, leaning against the marble mantel-shelf as if it were winter and
the fire burning, with his hands in his pockets and his lips puckered
for a whistle, could not keep still, tortured by the invincible desire
to give vent to his delight. The two brothers, in two arm-chairs that
matched, one on each side of the centre-table, stared in front of them,
in similar attitudes full of dissimilar expressions.

At last the tea appeared. The lawyer took a cup, sugared it, and drank
it, after having crumbled into it a little cake which was too hard to
crunch. Then he rose, shook hands, and departed.

"Then it is understood," repeated Roland. "To-morrow, at your place, at
two?"

"Quite so. To-morrow, at two."

Jean had not spoken a word.

When their guest had gone, silence fell again till father Roland clapped
his two hands on his younger son's shoulders, crying:

"Well, you devilish lucky dog! You don't embrace me!"