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182 he could not sleep. At seven he changed his dress; and at half-past eight went below to meet his mother at the breakfast table, having a little before overheard her step upon the stair.

II

He saluted her; but she looked gravely and yet alarmedly, and then in a sudden, illy-repressed panic, upon him. Then he knew he must be wonderfully changed. But his mother spoke not to him, only to return his good-morning. He saw that she was deeply offended with him, on many accounts; moreover, that she was vaguely frightened about him, and finally that notwithstanding all this, her stung pride conquered all apprehensiveness in her; and he knew his mother well enough to be very certain that, though he should unroll a magician's parchment before her now, she would verbally express no interest, and seek no explanation from him. Nevertheless, he could not entirely abstain from testing the power of her reservedness.

'I have been quite an absentee, sister Mary,' said he, with ill-affected pleasantness.

'Yes, Pierre. How does the coffee suit you this morning? It is some new coffee.'

'It is very nice; very rich and odorous, sister Mary.'

'I am glad you find it so, Pierre.'

'Why don't you call me brother Pierre?'

'Have I not called you so? Well, then, brother Pierre,—is that better?'

'Why do you look so indifferently and icily upon me, sister Mary?'

'Do I look indifferently and icily? Then I will endeavour to look otherwise. Give me the toast there, Pierre.'

'You are very deeply offended at me, my dear mother.'