“Yes,” he said to himself, “I must give up my share of the family inheritance. I must let Pierre have the whole of it, since I am not his father’s son. That is but just. Then is it not just that I should keep my father’s money?”
Having discerned that he could take nothing of Roland’s savings, having decided on giving up the whole of this money, he agreed; he resigned himself to keeping Maréchal’s; for if he rejected both he would find himself reduced to beggary.
This delicate question being thus disposed of he came back to that of Pierre’s presence in the family. How was he to be got rid of? He was giving up his search for any practical solution when the whistle of a steam-vessel coming into port seemed to blow him an answer by suggesting a scheme.
Then he threw himself on his bed without undressing, and dozed and dreamed till daybreak.
At a little before nine he went out to ascertain whether his plans were feasible. Then, after making sundry inquiries and calls, he went to his old home. His mother was waiting for him in her room.
“If you had not come,” she said, “I should never have dared to go down.”
In a minute Roland’s voice was heard on the stairs: “Are we to have nothing to eat to-day, hang it all?”
There was no answer, and he roared out, with a thundering oath this time: “Joséphine, what the devil are you about?”
The girl’s voice came up from the depths of the basement.
“Yes, M’sieu—what is it?”