The glass gallery, lighted by a chandelier and little coloured lamps hidden among palms, india-rubber plants, and flowers, was first seen like a scene on the stage.  There was a spasm of surprise.  Roland, dazzled by such luxury, muttered an oath, and felt inclined to clap his hands as if it were a pantomime scene.  They then went into the first drawing-room, a small room hung with dead gold and furnished to match.  The larger drawing-room—­the lawyer’s consulting-room, very simple, hung with light salmon-colour—­was dignified in style.

Jean sat down in his arm-chair in front of his writing-table loaded with books, and in a solemn, rather stilted tone, he began: 

“Yes, madame, the letter of the law is explicit, and, assuming the consent I promised you, it affords me absolute certainty that the matter we discussed will come to a happy conclusion within three months.”

He looked at Mme. Rosemilly, who began to smile and glanced at Mme. Roland.  Mme. Roland took her hand and pressed it.  Jean, in high spirits, cut a caper like a school-boy, exclaiming:  “Hah!  How well the voice carries in this room; it would be capital for speaking in.”

And he declaimed: 

“If humanity alone, if the instinct of natural benevolence which we feel towards all who suffer, were the motive of the acquittal we expect of you, I should appeal to your compassion, gentlemen of the jury, to your hearts as fathers and as men; but we have law on our side, and it is the point of law only which we shall submit to your judgment.”

Pierre was looking at this home which might have been his, and he was restive under his brother’s frolics, thinking him really too silly and witless.

Mme. Roland opened a door on the right.

“This is the bed-room,” said she.

She had devoted herself to its decoration with all her mother’s love.  The hangings were of Rouen cretonne imitating old Normandy chintz, and the Louis XV. design—­a shepherdess, in a medallion held in the beaks of a pair of doves—­gave the walls, curtains, bed, and arm-chairs a festive, rustic style that was extremely pretty!

“Oh, how charming!” Mme. Rosemilly exclaimed, becoming a little serious as they entered the room.

“Do you like it?” asked Jean.

“Immensely.”

“You cannot imagine how glad I am.”

They looked at each other for a second, with confiding tenderness in the depths of their eyes.

She had felt a little awkward, however, a little abashed, in this room which was to be hers.  She noticed as she went in that the bed was a large one, quite a family bed, chosen by Mme. Roland, who had no doubt foreseen and hoped that her son should soon marry; and this motherly foresight pleased her, for it seemed to tell her that she was expected in the family.