the house, and as he had
hardly slept the night before, he presently fell into a doze. After
resting for some hours he shook himself, and finding that it was time
to go on board again he set out, tormented by a sudden stiffness which
had come upon him during his long nap. Now he was eager to be at home
again; to know whether his mother had found the portrait of Marechal.
Would she be the first to speak of it, or would he be obliged to ask
for it again? If she waited to be questioned further it must be
because she had some secret reason for not showing the miniature.

But when he was at home again, and in his room, he hesitated about
going down to dinner. He was too wretched. His revolted soul had not
yet had time to calm down. However, he made up his mind to it, and
appeared in the dining-room just as they were sitting down.

All their faces were beaming.

"Well," said Roland, "are you getting on with your purchases? I do not
want to see anything till it is all in its place."

And his wife replied: "Oh, yes. We are getting on. But it takes much
consideration to avoid buying things that do not match. The furniture
question is an absorbing one."

She had spent the day in going with Jean to cabinet-makers and
upholsterers. Her fancy was for rich materials, rather splendid, to
strike the eye at once. Her son, on the contrary, wished for something
simple and elegant. So in front of everything put before them they had
each repeated their arguments. She declared that a client, a
defendant, must be impressed; that as soon as he is shown into his
counsel's waiting-room he should have a sense of wealth.

Jean, on the other hand, wishing to attract only an elegant and
opulent class, was anxious to captivate persons of refinement by his
quiet and perfect taste.

And this discussion, which had gone on all day, began again with the
soup.

Roland had no opinion. He repeated: "I do not want to hear anything
about it. I will go and see it when it is all finished."

Mme. Roland appealed to the judgment of her elder son.

"And you, Pierre, what do you think of the matter?"

His nerves were in a state of such intense excitement that he would
have liked to reply with an oath. However, he only answered in a dry
tone quivering with annoyance:

"Oh, I am quite of Jean's mind. I like nothing so well as simplicity,
which, in matters of taste, is equivalent to rectitude in matters of
conduct."

His mother went on:

"You must r