This was so obvious and likely that every one accepted it. "Dinner is ready," said the maid. And they all hurried off to their rooms to wash their hands before sitting down to table. Ten minutes after they were at dinner in the little dining-room on the ground-floor. At first they were silent; but presently Roland began again in amazement at this lawyer's visit. "For after all, why did he not write? Why should he have sent his clerk three times? Why is he coming himself?" Pierre thought it quite natural. "An immediate decision is required, no doubt; and perhaps there are certain confidential conditions which it does not do to put into writing." Still, they were all puzzled, and all four a little annoyed at having invited a stranger, who would be in the way of their discussing and deciding on what should be done. They had just gone upstairs again when the lawyer was announced. Roland flew to meet him: "Good-evening, my dear Maitre," said he, giving his visitor the title which in France is the official prefix to the name of every lawyer. Mme. Rosemilly rose. "I am going," she said. "I am very tired." A faint attempt was made to detain her; but she would not consent, and went home without either of the three men offering to escort her as they always had done. Mme. Roland did the honors eagerly to their visitor. "A cup of coffee, Monsieur?" "No, thank you. I have this moment done dinner." "A cup of tea, then?" "Thank you, I will not refuse presently. First we must attend to business." The total silence which succeeded this remark was broken only by the regular ticking of the clock, and below stairs the clatter of saucepans which the girl was cleaning--too stupid even to listen at the door. The lawyer went on: "Did you, in Paris, know a certain M. Marechal--Leon Marechal?" M. and Mme. Roland both exclaimed at once: "I should think so!" "He was a friend of yours?" Roland replied: "Our best friend, monsieur, but a fanatic for Paris; never to be got away from the boulevard. He was head clerk in the exchequer office. I have never seen him since I left the capital, and latterly we had ceased writing to each other. When people are far apart, you know--" The lawyer gravely put in: "M. Marechal is deceased." Both man and wife responded with the little movement of pained surprise, genuine or false, but always ready, with which such news is received. Maitre Lecanu went on: "My colleague in Paris has just communicated to me the main item of his will, by which he makes your son Jean--Monsieur Jean Roland--his sole legatee." They were all too much amazed to utter a single word. Mme. Roland was the first to control her emotions and stammered out: "Good heavens! Poor Leon--our poor friend! Dear me! Dear me! Dead!"