was the humble expression, gentle, sad, and beseeching, of a dog that has been beaten and begs forgiveness.
On the 1st of October the Lorraine from Saint-Nazaire, came into the harbour of Havre to sail on the 7th, bound for New York, and Pierre Roland was to take possession of the little floating cabin in which henceforth his life was to be confined.
Next day as he was going out, he met his mother on the stairs waiting for him, to murmur in an almost inaudible voice:
"You would not like me to help you to put things to rights on board?"
"No, thank you. Everything is done."
Then she said:
"I should have liked to see your cabin."
"There is nothing to see. It is very small and very ugly."
And he went downstairs, leaving her stricken, leaning against the wall with a wan face.
Now Roland, who had gone over the Lorraine that very day, could talk of nothing all dinnertime but this splendid vessel, and wondered that his wife should not care to see it as their son was to sail on board.
Pierre had scarcely any intercourse with his
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