lept in a motionless and steady bed, had risen up
against the insecurity henceforth of all his morrows. Till now that
flesh had been protected by a solid wall built into the earth which
held it, by the certainty of resting in the same spot, under a roof
which could resist the gale. Now all that, which it was a pleasure to
defy in the warmth of home, must become a peril and a constant
discomfort. No earth under foot, only the greedy, heaving, complaining
sea; no space around for walking, running, losing the way, only a few
yards of planks to pace like a convict among other prisoners; no
trees, no gardens, no streets, no houses; nothing but water and
clouds. And the ceaseless motion of the ship beneath his feet. On
stormy days he must lean against the wainscot, hold on to the doors,
cling to the edge of the narrow berth to save himself from rolling
out. On calm days he would hear the snorting throb of the screw, and
feel the swift flight of the ship, bearing him on in its unpausing,
regular, exasperating race.

And he was a prey to this vagabond convict's life solely because his
mother had sinned.

He walked on, his heart sinking with the despairing sorrow of those
who are doomed to exile. He no longer felt a haughty disdain and
scornful hatred of the strangers he met, but a woeful impulse to speak
to them, to tell them all that he had to quit France, to be listened
to and comforted. There was in the very depths of his heart the
shamefaced need of a beggar who would fain hold out his hand--a timid
but urgent need to feel that some one would grieve at his departing.

He thought of Marowsko. The old Pole was the only person who loved him
well enough to feel true and keen emotion, and the doctor at once
determined to go and see him.

When he entered the shop, the druggist, who was pounding powders in a
marble mortar, started and left his work:

"You are never to be seen nowadays," said he.

Pierre explained that he had had a great many serious matters to
attend to, but without giving the reason, and he took a seat, asking:

"Well, and how is business doing?"

Business was not doing at all. Competition was fearful, and rich folks
rare in that workman's quarter. Nothing would sell but cheap drugs,
and the doctors did not prescribe the costlier and more complicated
remedies on which a profit is made of five hundred per cent. The old
fellow ended by saying: "If this goes on for three months I shall shut
up shop. If I d