"The purser makes as much as ten thousand, and the doctor has a fixed salary of five thousand, with lodgings, keep, light, firing, service, and everything, which makes it up to ten thousand at least. That is very good pay."
Pierre, raising his eyes, met his brother's and understood.
Then, after some hesitation, he asked:
"Is it very hard to get a place as medical man on board a Transatlantic liner?"
"Yes—and no. It all depends on circumstances and recommendation."
There was a long pause; then the doctor began again.
"Next month, you say, the Lorraine is to sail?"
"Yes. On the 7th."
And they said no more.
Pierre was considering. It certainly would be a way out of many difficulties if he could embark as medical officer on board the steamship. By-and-by he could see; he might perhaps give it up. Meanwhile he would be gaining a living, and asking for nothing from his parents. Only two days since he had been forced to sell his watch, for he would no longer hold out his hand to beg of his mother. So he had no other resource left, no opening to enable him to eat the bread of any house but this which had become uninhabitable, or sleep in any other bed, or under any other roof. He presently said with some little hesitation: