curtains, bed, and armchairs a
festive, rustic style that was extremely pretty!

"Oh, how charming!" Mme. Rosemilly exclaimed, becoming a little
serious as they entered the room.

"Do you like it?" asked Jean.

"Immensely."

"You cannot imagine how glad I am."

They looked at each other for a second, with confiding tenderness in
the depths of their eyes.

She had felt a little awkward, however, a little abashed, in this room
which was to be hers. She noticed as she went in that the bed was a
large one, quite a family bed, chosen by Mme. Roland, who had no doubt
foreseen and hoped that her son should soon marry; and this motherly
foresight pleased her, for it seemed to tell her that she was expected
in the family.

When they had returned to the drawing-room Jean abruptly threw open
the door to the left, showing the circular dining-room with three
windows, and decorated to imitate a Chinese lantern. Mother and son
had here lavished all the fancy of which they were capable, and the
room, with its bamboo furniture, its mandarins, jars, silk hangings
glistening with gold, transparent blinds threaded with beads looking
like drops of water, fans nailed to the wall to drape the hangings
on, screens, swords, masks, cranes made of real feathers, and a myriad
trifles in china, wood, paper, ivory, mother of pearl, and bronze, had
the pretentious and extravagant aspect which unpracticed hands and
uneducated eyes inevitably stamp on things which need the utmost tact,
taste, and artistic education. Nevertheless it was the most admired;
only Pierre made some observations with rather bitter irony which hurt
his brother's feelings.

Pyramids of fruit stood on the table and monuments of cakes. No one
was hungry; they picked at the fruit and nibbled at the cakes rather
than ate them. Then, at the end of about an hour, Mme. Rosemilly
begged to take leave. It was decided that old Roland should accompany
her home and set out with her forthwith; while Madame Roland, in the
maid's absence, should cast a maternal eye over the house and see that
her son had all he needed.

"Shall I come back for you?" asked Roland.

She hesitated a moment and then said: "No, dear old man; go to bed.
Pierre will see me home."

As soon as they were gone she blew out the candles, locked up the
cakes, the sugar, and liqueurs in a cupboard of which she gave the key
to Jean; then she went into the bedroom, turned down the bed, saw that
there was fresh w