not be vexed with him; he is not very
well to-day and tired with his excursion to Trouville."

"Never mind," said Roland, "that is no reason for taking himself off
like a savage."

Mme. Rosemilly tried to smooth matters by saying:

"Not at all, not at all. He has gone away in the English fashion;
people always disappear in that way in fashionable circles if they
want to leave early."

"Oh, in fashionable circles, I dare say," replied Jean. "But a man
does not treat his family _a l'Anglaise_, and my brother has done
nothing else for some time past."

CHAPTER VI

For a week or two nothing occurred at the Rolands'. The father went
fishing; Jean, with his mother's help, was furnishing and settling
himself; Pierre, very gloomy, never was seen excepting at mealtimes.

His father having asked him one evening:

"Why the deuce do you always come in with a face as cheerful as a
funeral? This is not the first time I have remarked it"--the doctor
replied:

"The fact is I am terribly conscious of the burden of life."

The old man had not a notion what he meant, and with an aggrieved
look he went on: "It really is too bad. Ever since we had the good
luck to come into this legacy, every one seems unhappy. It is as
though some accident had befallen us, as if we were in mourning for
some one."

"I am in mourning for some one," said Pierre.

"You are? For whom?"

"For some one you never knew, and of whom I was too fond."

Roland imagined that his son alluded to some girl with whom he had had
some love passages, and he said:

"A woman, I suppose."

"Yes, a woman."

"Dead?"

"No. Worse. Ruined!"

"Ah!"

Though he was startled by this unexpected confidence, in his wife's
presence too, and by his son's strange tone about it, the old man made
no further inquiries, for in his opinion such affairs did not concern
a third person.

Mme. Roland affected not to hear; she seemed ill and was very pale.
Several times already her husband, surprised to see her sit down as if
she were dropping into her chair, and to hear her gasp as if she could
not draw her breath, had said:

"Really, Louise, you look very ill; you tire yourself too much with
helping Jean. Give yourself a little rest. Sacristi! The rascal is in
no hurry, as he is a rich man."

She shook her head without a word.

But to-day her pallor was so great that Roland remarked on it again.

"Come, come," said he, "this will not do at all, my dear old woman.