than from the desire to cut each other out.

Their mother, being practical and prudent, sincerely hoped that one of
them might win the young widow, for she was rich; but then she would
have liked that the other should not be grieved.

Mme. Rosemilly was fair, with blue eyes, a mass of light waving hair,
fluttering at the least breath of wind, and an alert, daring, pugnacious
little way with her, which did not in the least answer to the sober
method of her mind.

She already seemed to like Jean best, attracted, no doubt, by an
affinity of nature. This preference, however, she betrayed only by
an almost imperceptible difference of voice and look and also by
occasionally asking his opinion. She seemed to guess that Jean's
views would support her own, while those of Pierre must inevitably
be different. When she spoke of the doctor's ideas on politics, art,
philosophy, or morals, she would sometimes say: "Your crotchets." Then
he would look at her with the cold gleam of an accuser drawing up an
indictment against women--all women, poor weak things.

Never till his sons came home had M. Roland invited her to join his
fishing expeditions, nor had he ever taken his wife; for he liked to put
off before daybreak, with his ally, Captain Beausire, a master mariner
retired, whom he had first met on the quay at high tides and with whom
he had struck up an intimacy, and the old sailor Papagris, known as Jean
Bart, in whose charge the boat was left.

But one evening of the week before, Mme. Rosemilly, who had been dining
with them, remarked, "It must be great fun to go out fishing." The