She might have replied more readily:
“That portrait—stay; I don’t exactly know—perhaps it is in my desk.”
“It would be kind of you to find it.”
“Yes, I will look for it. What do you want it for?”
“Oh, it is not for myself. I thought it would be a natural thing to give it to Jean, and that he would be pleased to have it.”
“Yes, you are right; that is a good idea. I will look for it, as soon as I am up.”
And he went out.
It was a blue day without a breath of wind. The folks in the streets seemed in good spirits, the merchants going to business, the clerks going to their office, the girls going to their shop. Some sang as they went, exhilarated by the bright weather.
The passengers were already going on board the Trouville boat; Pierre took a seat aft on a wooden bench.
He asked himself: