friends. Beausire was his butt, and Mme. Rosémilly a little, but in a very judicious way, not too spiteful. And he thought as he looked at his brother: "Stand up for her, you muff. You may be as rich as you please, I can always eclipse you when I take the trouble."
As they drank their coffee he said to his father:
"Are you going out in the Pearl to-day?"
"No, my boy."
"May I have her with Jean Bart?"
"To be sure, as long as you like."
He bought a good cigar at the first tobacconist's and went down to the quay with a light step. He glanced up at the sky, which was clear and luminous, of a pale blue, freshly swept by the sea-breeze.
Papagris, the boatman, commonly called Jean Bart, was dozing in the bottom of the boat, which he was required to have in readiness every day at noon when they had not been out fishing in the morning.
"You and I together, mate," cried Pierre. He went down the iron ladder of the quay and leaped into the vessel.
"Which way is the wind?" he asked.
"Due east still, M'sieu Pierre. A fine breeze out at sea."
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