"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:
"How did you first come to know this man Maréchal?"
Old Roland looked up and racked his memory:
"Wait a bit; I scarcely recollect. It is such an old story now. Ah, yes, I remember. It was your mother who made acquaintance with him in the shop, was it not, Louise? He first came to order something, and then he called frequently. We knew him as a customer before we knew him as a friend."
Pierre, who was eating beans, sticking his fork into them one by one as if he were spitting them, went on:
"And when was it that you made his acquaintance?"
Again Roland sat thinking, but he could remember no more and appealed to his wife's better memory.
"In what year was it, Louise? You surely have not forgotten, you who remember everything. Let me see—it was in—in—in fifty-five or fifty-six? Try to remember. You ought to know better than I."