Volume VIII Part 13 (1/2)

She had loved him Why not? She was his mother What then? Must aevidence because it concerns his mother? And she had been frail Why, yes, since this man had had no other love, since he had re old Why yes, since he had left all his fortune to his son--their son!

And Pierre started to his feet, quivering with such rage that he longed to kill some one With his arm outstretched, his hand wide open, he wanted to hit, to bruise, to sle! Whom?

Everyone; his father, his brother, the dead oing to do?

As he passed a turret close to the signal -horn went off in his very face He was so startled that he nearly fell, and shrank back as far as the granite parapet The steamer which was the first to reply seemed to be quite near and was already at the entrance, the tide having risen

Pierre turned round and could discern its red eye diht of the electric lanterns, a huge black shadow crept up between the piers Behind him the voice of the lookout man, the hoarse voice of an old retired sea-captain, shouted:

”What shi+p?” And out of the fog the voice of the pilot standing on deck--not less hoarse--replied:

”The Santa Lucia”

”Where from?”

”Italy”

”What port?”

”Naples”

And before Pierre's bewildered eyes rose as he fancied, the fiery pennon of Vesuvius, while, at the foot of the volcano, fire-flies danced in the orange-groves of Sorrento or Castellamare How often had he dreamed of these fao away, now at once, never mind whither, and never come back, never write, never let any one knohat had becoo hoo to bed

He would not Coo in; he would stay there till daybreak He liked the roar of the fog-horns He pulled hian to walk up and down like an officer on watch

Another vessel was colish Indiaman, homeward bound

He saw several more come in, one after another, out of the impenetrable vapor Then, as the damp became quite intolerable, Pierre set out toward the town He was so cold that he went into a sailors'

tavern to drink a glass of grog, and when the hot and pungent liquor had scorched his mouth and throat he felt a hope revive within hiabond unreason so well! No doubt he was e is drawn up against an innocent person, whouilty When he should have slept he would think differently

Then he went in and to bed, and by sheer force of will he at last dropped asleep

CHAPTER V

But the doctor's frame lay scarcely more than an hour or two in the torpor of troubled slumbers When he awoke in the darkness of his warht ake in him, of the painful oppression, the sickness of heart which the sorroe have slept on leaves behind it It is as though the disaster of which the shocksleep, stolen into our very flesh, bruising and exhausting it like a fever Memory returned to him like a blow, and he sat up in bed Then slowly, one by one, he again went through all the argu-horns were bellowing The ed along by his logic to the inevitable certainty, as by a clutching, strangling hand

He was thirsty and hot, his heart beat wildly He got up to open hisand breathe the fresh air, and as he stood there a low sound fell on his ear through the wall Jean was sleeping peacefully, and gently snoring He could sleep! He had no presentiment, no suspicions!

A man who had known their ht it quite fair and natural! He was sleeping, rich and contented, not knowing that his brother was gasping with anguish and distress And rage boiled up in hiainst this heedless and happy sleeper