“The best thing I can do, perhaps, will be to write to my professors at the college of Medicine, who had a great regard for me. Very inferior men are sometimes shipped on board those vessels. Letters of strong recommendation from such professors as Mas-Roussel, Rémusot, Flanche, and Borriquel would do more for me in an hour than all the doubtful introductions in the world. It would be enough if your friend M. Marchand would lay them before the board.”
Jean approved heartily.
“Your idea is really capital.” And he smiled, quite reassured, almost happy, sure of success and incapable of allowing himself to be unhappy for long.
“You will write to-day?” he said.
“Directly. Now; at once. I will go and do so. I do not care for any coffee this morning; I am too nervous.”
He rose and left the room.
Then Jean turned to his mother:
“And you, mother, what are you going to do?”
“Nothing. I do not know.”
“Will you come with me to call on Mme. Rosémilly?”