involuntary displeasure at his brother's windfall of
fortune and his religious affection for his mother had magnified his
scruples--very pious and respectable scruples, but exaggerated. As he
put this conclusion into words in his own mind he felt happy, as at
the doing of a good action; and he resolved to be nice to every one,
beginning with his father, whose manias, and silly statements, and
vulgar opinions, and too conspicuous mediocrity were a constant
irritation to him.

He came in not late for breakfast, and amused all the family by his fun
and good humour.

His mother, quite delighted, said to him:

"My little Pierre, you have no notion how humorous and clever you can be
when you choose."

And he talked, putting things in a witty way, and making them laugh
by ingenious hits at their friends. Beausire was his butt, and Mme.
Rosemilly a little, but in a very judicious way, not too spiteful. And
he thought as he looked at his brother: "Stand up for her, you muff. You
may be as rich as you please, I can always eclipse you when I take the
trouble."

As they drank their coffee he said to his father:

"Are you going out in the Pearl to-day?"

"No, my boy."

"May I have her with Jean Bart?"

"To be sure, as long as you like."

He bought a good cigar at the first tobacconist's and went down to the
quay with a light step. He glanced up at the sky, which was clear and
luminous, of a pale blue, freshly swept by the sea-breeze.

Papagris, the boatman, commonly called Jean Bart, was dozing in the
bottom of the boat, which he was required to have in readiness every day
at noon when they had not been out fishing in the morning.

"You and I together, mate," cried Pierre. He went down the iron ladder
of the quay and leaped into the vessel.

"Which way is the wind?" he asked.

"Due east still, M'sieu Pierre. A fine breeze out at sea."

"Well, then, old man, off we go!"

They hoisted the foresail and weighed anchor; and the boat, feeling
herself free, glided slowly down towards the jetty on the still water
of the harbour. The breath of wind that came down the streets caught the
top of the sail so lightly as to be imperceptible, and the Pearl seemed
endowed with life--the life of a vessel driven on by a mysterious latent
power. Pierre took the tiller, and, holding his cigar between his teeth,
he stretched his legs on the bunk, and with his eyes half-shut in the
blinding sunshine, he watched the great tarred timbe