with
him once, when collecting books. He stopped him and said: "Halloa! you
old crocodile, you have clients, then, in my house?"

"So it seems," replied Clergeot dryly, for he does not like being
treated with such familiarity.

"Ah! ah!" said old Tabaret. And, prompted by the very natural curiosity
of a landlord who is bound to be very careful about the financial
condition of his tenants, he added, "Who the deuce are you ruining now?"

"I am ruining no one," replied M. Clergeot, with an air of offended
dignity. "Have you ever had reason to complain of me whenever we have
done business together? I think not. Mention me to the young advocate
up there, if you like; he will tell you whether he has reason to regret
knowing me."

These words produced a painful impression on Tabaret. What, Noel, the
prudent Noel, one of Clergeot's customers! What did it mean? Perhaps
there was no harm in it; but then he remembered the fifteen thousand
francs he had lent Noel on the Thursday.

"Yes," said he, wishing to obtain some more information, "I know that M.
Gerdy spends a pretty round sum."

Clergeot has the delicacy never to leave his clients undefended when
attacked.

"It isn't he personally," he objected, "who makes the money dance; its
that charming little woman of his. Ah, she's no bigger than your thumb,
but she'd eat the devil, hoofs, horns, and all!"

What! Noel had a mistress, a woman whom Clergeot himself, the friend of
such creatures, considered expensive! The revelation, at such a moment,
pierced the old man's heart. But he dissembled. A gesture, a look, might
awaken the usurer's mistrust, and close his mouth.

"That's well known," replied Tabaret in a careless tone. "Youth must
have it's day. But what do you suppose the wench costs him a year?"

"Oh, I don't know! He made the mistake of not fixing a price with her.
According to my calculation, she must have, during the four years that
she has been under his protection, cost him close upon five hundred
thousand francs."

Four years? Five hundred thousand francs! These words, these figures,
burst like bombshells on old Tabaret's brain. Half a million! In that
case, Noel was utterly ruined. But then--

"It is a great deal," said he, succeeding by desperate efforts in hiding
his emotion; "it is enormous. M. Gerdy, however, has resources."

"He!" interrupted the usurer, shrugging his shoulders. "Not even that!"
he added, snapping his fingers; "He is utterly clean