ell. The
sound rose through the empty staircase, penetrating through walls and
doors, and dying away in the rooms where it fell on the torpid ears of
the sleeping household. Pierre had taken to walking to and fro between
his bed and the window. What was he going to do? He was too much upset
to spend this day at home. He wanted still to be alone, at any rate
till the next day, to reflect, to compose himself, to strengthen
himself for the common every-day life which he must take up again.

Well, he would go over to Trouville to see the swarming crowd on the
sands. That would amuse him, change the air of his thoughts, and give
him time to inure himself to the horrible thing he had discovered. As
soon as morning dawned he made his toilet and dressed. The fog had
vanished and it was fine, very fine. As the boat for Trouville did not
start till nine, it struck the doctor that he must greet his mother
before starting.

He waited till the hour at which she was accustomed to get up, and
then went downstairs. His heart beat so violently as he touched her
door that he paused for breath. His hand as it lay on the lock was
limp and tremulous, almost incapable of the slight effort of turning
the handle to open it. He knocked. His mother's voice inquired:

"Who is there?"

"I--Pierre."

"What do you want?"

"Only to say good morning, because I am going to spend the day at
Trouville with some friends."

"But I am still in bed."

"Very well, do not disturb yourself. I shall see you this evening,
when I come in."

He hoped to get off without seeing her, without pressing on her cheek
the false kiss which it made his heart sick to think of. But she
replied:

"No. Wait a moment. I will let you in. Wait till I get into bed
again."

He heard her bare feet on the floor and the sound of the bolt drawn
back. Then she called out:

"Come in."

He went in. She was sitting up in bed, while, by her side, Roland,
with a silk handkerchief by way of nightcap and his face to the wall,
still lay sleeping. Nothing ever woke him but a shaking hard enough to
pull his arm off. On the days when he went fishing it was Josephine,
rung up by Papagris at the hour fixed, who roused her master from his
stubborn slumbers.

Pierre as he went toward his mother, looked at her with a sudden sense
of never having seen her before. She held up her face, he kissed each
cheek, and then sat down in a low chair.

"It was last evening that you decided on t