all, my dear old woman. You must take care of yourself." Then, addressing his son, "You surely must see that your mother is ill. Have you questioned her, at any rate?"
Pierre replied: "No; I had not noticed that there was anything the matter with her."
At this Roland was angry.
"But it stares you in the face, confound you! What on earth is the good of your being a doctor if you cannot even see that your mother is out of sorts? Why, look at her, just look at her. Really, a man might die under his very eyes and this doctor would never think there was anything the matter!"
Mme. Roland was panting for breath, and so white that her husband exclaimed:
"She is going to faint."
"No, no, it is nothing—I shall get better directly—it is nothing."
Pierre had gone up to her and was looking at her steadily.
"What ails you?" he said. And she repeated in an undertone:
"Nothing, nothing—I assure you, nothing."
Roland had gone to fetch some vinegar; he now returned, and handing the bottle to his son he said:
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