e matter, imagined that Lucien had obliged his brother-in-law,
and handed him all the documents together--too late. An actress sees
so much of bailiffs, duns, and writs, upon the stage, that she looks
on all stamped paper as a farce.

Tears filled Lucien's eyes; he was unhappy on Sechard's account, he
was ashamed of the forgery, he wished to pay, he desired to gain time.
Naturally he took counsel of his friends. But by the time Lousteau,
Blondet, Bixiou, and Nathan had told the poet to snap his fingers at a
court only established for tradesmen, Lucien was already in the
clutches of the law. He beheld upon his door the little yellow placard
which leaves its reflection on the porter's countenance, and exercises
a most astringent influence upon credit; striking terror into the
heart of the smallest tradesman, and freezing the blood in the veins
of a poet susceptible enough to care about the bits of wood, silken
rags, dyed woolen stuffs, and multifarious gimcracks entitled
furniture.

When the broker's men came for Coralie's furniture, the author of the
_Marguerites_ fled to a friend of Bixiou's, one Desroches, a barrister,
who burst out laughing at the sight of Lucien in such a state about
nothing at all.

"That is nothing, my dear fellow. Do you want to gain time?"

"Yes, as much possible."

"Very well, apply for stay of execution. Go and look up Masson, he is
a solicitor in the Commercial Court, and a friend of mine. Take your
documents to him. He will make a second application for you, and give
notice of objection to the jurisdiction of the court. There is not the
least difficulty; you are a journalist, your name is well known
enough. If they summons you before a civil court, come to me about it,
that will be my affair; I engage to send anybody who offers to annoy
the fair Coralie about his business."

On the 28th of May, Lucien's case came on in the civil court, and
judgment was given before Desroches expected it. Lucien's creditor was
pushing on the proceedings against him. A second execution was put in,
and again Coralie's pilasters were gilded with placards. Desroches
felt rather foolish; a colleague had "caught him napping," to use his
own expression. He demurred, not without reason, that the furniture
belonged to Mlle. Coralie, with whom Lucien was living, and demanded
an order for inquiry. Thereupon the judge referred the matter to the
registrar for inquiry, the furniture was proved to belong to the
actre