Then Jean smiled. He embraced his father, saying:

"It had not struck me as indispensable."

The old man was beside himself with glee. He walked about the room,
strummed on the furniture with his clumsy nails, turned about on his
heels, and kept saying:

"What luck! What luck! Now, that is really what I call luck!"

Pierre asked:

"Then you used to know this Marechal well?"

And his father replied:

"I believe! Why, he used to spend every evening at our house. Surely you
remember he used to fetch you from school on half-holidays, and often
took you back again after dinner. Why, the very day when Jean was born
it was he who went for the doctor. He had been breakfasting with us when
your mother was taken ill. Of course we knew at once what it meant, and
he set off post-haste. In his hurry he took my hat instead of his own. I
remember that because we had a good laugh over it afterward. It is very
likely that he may have thought of that when he was dying, and as he had
no heir he may have said to himself: 'I remember helping to bring that
youngster into the world, so I will leave him my savings.'"

Mme. Roland, sunk in a deep chair, seemed lost in reminiscences once
more. She murmured, as though she were thinking aloud: