{"id":"01KG8AN37KP6XE0PRDZ21C716N","cid":"bafkreih4xh3ulhixb5nluc5ptaow5vvuhzwi4jsx3dj7nl3r2jvrnersle","type":"chunk","properties":{"end_line":4295,"extracted_at":"2026-01-30T20:48:52.918Z","extracted_by":"structure-extraction-lambda","label":"Chunk 1","source_file":"01KG89J1JSYKSGCE149MH9HF6A","start_line":4225,"text":"IV.\r\n\r\nHis stroll was longer than he meant; and when he returned up the Linden\r\nwalk leading to the breakfast-room, and ascended the piazza steps, and\r\nglanced into the wide window there, he saw his mother seated not far\r\nfrom the table; her face turned toward his own; and heard her gay voice,\r\nand peculiarly light and buoyant laugh, accusing him, and not her, of\r\nbeing the morning's laggard now. Dates was busy among some spoons and\r\nnapkins at a side-stand.\r\n\r\nSummoning all possible cheerfulness to his face, Pierre entered the\r\nroom. Remembering his carefulness in bathing and dressing; and knowing\r\nthat there is no air so calculated to give bloom to the cheek as that of\r\na damply fresh, cool, and misty morning, Pierre persuaded himself that\r\nsmall trace would now be found on him of his long night of watching.\r\n\r\n'Good morning, sister;--Such a famous stroll! I have been all the way\r\nto---- '\r\n\r\n'Where? good heavens! where? for such a look as that!--why, Pierre,\r\nPierre? what ails thee? Dates, I will touch the bell presently.'\r\n\r\nAs the good servitor fumbled for a moment among the napkins, as if\r\nunwilling to stir so summarily from his accustomed duty, and not without\r\nsome of a well and long-tried old domestic's vague, intermitted\r\nmurmuring, at being wholly excluded from a matter of family interest;\r\nMrs. Glendinning kept her fixed eye on Pierre, who, unmindful that the\r\nbreakfast was not yet entirely ready, seating himself at the table,\r\nbegan helping himself--though but nervously enough--to the cream and\r\nsugar. The moment the door closed on Dates, the mother sprang to her\r\nfeet, and threw her arms around her son; but in that embrace, Pierre\r\nmiserably felt that their two hearts beat not together in such unison as\r\nbefore.\r\n\r\n'What haggard thing possesses thee, my son? Speak, this is\r\nincomprehensible! Lucy;--fie!--not she?--no love-quarrel there;--speak,\r\nspeak, my darling boy!\r\n\r\n'My dear sister,' began Pierre.\r\n\r\n'Sister me not, now, Pierre;--I am thy mother.'\r\n\r\n'Well, then, dear mother, thou art quite as incomprehensible to me as I\r\nto---- '\r\n\r\n'Talk faster, Pierre--this calmness freezes me. Tell me; for, by my\r\nsoul, something most wonderful must have happened to thee. Thou art my\r\nson, and I command thee. It is not Lucy; it is something else. Tell me.'\r\n\r\n'My dear mother,' said Pierre, impulsively moving his chair backward\r\nfrom the table, 'if thou wouldst only believe me when I say it, I have\r\nreally nothing to tell thee. Thou knowest that sometimes, when I happen\r\nto feel very foolishly studious and philosophical, I sit up late in my\r\nchamber; and then, regardless of the hour, foolishly run out into the\r\nair, for a long stroll across the meadows. I took such a stroll last\r\nnight; and had but little time left for napping afterward; and what nap\r\nI had I was none the better for. But I won't be so silly again, soon; so\r\ndo, dearest mother, stop looking at me, and let us to breakfast.--Dates!\r\nTouch the bell there, sister.'\r\n\r\n'Stay, Pierre!--There is a heaviness in this hour. I feel, I know, that\r\nthou art deceiving me;--perhaps I erred in seeking to wrest thy secret\r\nfrom thee; but believe me, my son, I never thought thou hadst any secret\r\nthing from me, except thy first love for Lucy--and that, my own\r\nwomanhood tells me, was most pardonable and right. But now, what can it\r\nbe? Pierre, Pierre! consider well before thou determinest upon\r\nwithholding confidence from me. I am thy mother. It may prove a fatal\r\nthing. Can that be good and virtuous, Pierre, which shrinks from a\r\nmother's knowledge? Let us not loose hands so, Pierre; thy confidence\r\nfrom me, mine goes from thee. Now, shall I touch the bell?'\r\n\r","title":"Chunk 1"},"relationships":[{"peer":"01KG8AKHMZ21RV7ZMW1WNW7ETK","peer_type":"subsection","predicate":"in"},{"peer":"01KG89J1JSYKSGCE149MH9HF6A","peer_type":"file","predicate":"extractedFrom"},{"peer":"01KG89HMDZKNY753EZE1CJ8HZW","peer_type":"collection","predicate":"collection"},{"peer":"01KG8AN37KMBABRA40TBEXWV4J","peer_type":"chunk","predicate":"next"}],"ver":2,"created_at":"2026-01-30T20:48:58.611Z","ts":"2026-01-30T20:49:14.275Z","edited_by":{"method":"manual","user_id":"01KFF0H3YRP9ZSM033AM0QJ47H"}}