things, sir, in every quarter of the globe, wherever and as often as I
have had the chance, and I am none the worse."

Pierre answered with some asperity:

"In the first place, captain, you are a stronger man than my father; and
in the next, all free livers talk as you do till the day when--when they
come back no more to say to the cautious doctor: 'You were right.' When
I see my father doing what is worst and most dangerous for him, it
is but natural that I should warn him. I should be a bad son if I did
otherwise."

Mme. Roland, much distressed, now put in her word: "Come, Pierre, what
ails you? For once it cannot hurt him. Think of what an occasion it
is for him, for all of us. You will spoil his pleasure and make us all
unhappy. It is too bad of you to do such a thing."

He muttered, as he shrugged his shoulders.

"He can do as he pleases. I have warned him."

But father Roland did not drink. He sat looking at his glass full of the
clear and luminous liquor while its light soul, its intoxicating soul,
flew off in tiny bubbles mounting from its depths in hurried succession
to die on the surface. He looked at it with the suspicious eye of a fox
smelling at a dead hen and suspecting a trap. He asked doubtfully: "Do
you think it will really do me much harm?" Pierre had a pang of remorse
and blamed himself for letting his ill-humour punish the rest.

"No," said he. "Just for once you may drink it; but do not take too