rd it was for a man of past thirty to be reduced to ask
his mother, with a blush for a twenty-franc piece every now and then;
and he muttered, as he scored the gravel with the ferule of his stick:

"Christi, if I only had money!"

And again the thought of his brother's legacy came into his head like
the sting of a wasp; but he drove it out indignantly, not choosing to
allow himself to slip down that descent to jealousy.

Some children were playing about in the dusty paths. They were fair
little things with long hair, and they were making little mounds of sand
with the greatest gravity and careful attention, to crush them at once
by stamping on them.

It was one of those gloomy days with Pierre when we pry into every
corner of our souls and shake out every crease.

"All our endeavours are like the labours of those babies," thought he.
And then he wondered whether the wisest thing in life were not to beget
two or three of these little creatures and watch them grow up with
complacent curiosity. A longing for marriage breathed on his soul. A
man is not so lost when he is not alone. At any rate, he has some one
stirring at his side in hours of trouble or of uncertainty; and it is
something only to be able to speak on equal terms to a woman when one is
suffering.

Then he began thinking of women. He knew very little of them, never
having had any but very transient connections as a medical student,
broken off as soon as the month's allowance was spent, and renewed or
replaced by another the following month. And yet there must be some very
kind, gentle, and comforting creatures among them. Had not his mother
been the good sense and saving grace of his own home? How glad he would
be to know a woman, a true woman!

He started up with a sudden determination to go and call on Mme.
Rosemilly. But he promptly sat down again. He did not like that woman.
Why not? She had too much vulgar and sordid common sense; besides,
did she not seem to prefer Jean? Without confessing it to himself too
bluntly, this preference had a great deal to do with his low opinion of
the widow's intellect; for, though he loved his brother, he could not
help thinking him somewhat mediocre and believing himself the superior.
However, he was not going to sit there till nightfall; and as he had
done on the previous evening, he anxiously asked himself: "What am I
going to do?"

At this moment he felt in his soul the need of a melting mood, of being
embrac