“No, father, but I had something to talk over with mother this morning.”
Jean went forward holding out his hand, and when he felt his fingers in the old man’s fatherly clasp, a strange, unforeseen emotion thrilled through him, and a sense as of parting and farewell without return.
Mme. Roland asked:
“Pierre is not come down?”
Her husband shrugged his shoulders.
“No, but never mind him; he is always behind-hand. We will begin without him.”
She turned to Jean:
“You had better go to call him, my child; it hurts his feelings if we do not wait for him.”
“Yes, mother. I will go.”
And the young man went. He mounted the stairs with the fevered determination of a man who is about to fight a duel and who is in a fright. When he knocked at the door Pierre said: