“Come in.”
He went in. The elder was writing, leaning over his table.
“Good-morning,” said Jean.
Pierre rose.
“Good-morning!” and they shook hands as if nothing had occurred.
“Are you not coming down to breakfast?”
“Well—you see—I have a good deal to do.” The elder brother’s voice was tremulous, and his anxious eye asked his younger brother what he meant to do.
“They are waiting for you.”
“Oh! There is—is my mother down?”
“Yes, it was she who sent me to fetch you.”