"No, he would not take it. Besides, this legacy is for Jean, only for
Jean. Pierre will find himself at a great disadvantage."

The old fellow seemed perplexed: "Well, then, we will leave him rather
more in our will."

"No; that again would not be quite just."

"Drat it all!" he exclaimed. "What do you want me to do in the matter?
You always hit on a whole heap of disagreeable ideas. You must spoil all
my pleasures. Well, I am going to bed. Good-night. All the same, I call
it good luck, jolly good luck!"

And he went off, delighted in spite of everything, and without a word of
regret for the friend so generous in his death.

Mme. Roland sat thinking again in front of the lamp which was burning
out.



CHAPTER II

As soon as he got out, Pierre made his way to the Rue de Paris, the
high-street of Havre, brightly lighted up, lively and noisy. The rather
sharp air of the seacoast kissed his face, and he walked slowly, his
stick under his arm and his hands behind his back. He was ill at ease,
oppressed, out of heart, as one is after hearing unpleasant tidings.
He was not distressed by any definite thought, and he would have been
puzzled to account, on the spur of the moment, for this dejection of