“Where is it?” he asked.
“Boulevard François.”
There was no possibility for doubt. He took his seat in such a state of exasperation that he longed to exclaim: “This is really too much! Is there nothing for any one but him?”
His mother, beaming, went on talking: “And only fancy, I got it for two thousand eight hundred francs a year. They asked three thousand, but I got a reduction of two hundred francs on taking for three, six, or nine years. Your brother will be delightfully housed there. An elegant home is enough to make the fortune of a lawyer. It attracts clients, charms them, holds them fast, commands respect, and shows them that a man who lives in such good style expects a good price for his words.”
She was silent for a few seconds and then went on:
“We must look out for something suitable for you; much less pretentious, since you have nothing, but nice and pretty all the same. I assure you it will be to your advantage.”
Pierre replied contemptuously:
“For me! Oh, I shall make my way by hard work and learning.”
But his mother insisted: “Yes, but I assure you that to be well lodged will be of use to you nevertheless.”
About half-way through the meal he suddenly asked: