ing the matter, I feel it! You must
tell me; I must know what it is."

"Well," said Birotteau, "we came very near being ruined,--we were ruined
this very morning; but it is all safe now."

And he told the horrible story of his two weeks' misery.

"So that was the cause of your illness!" exclaimed Constance.

"Yes, mamma," cried Cesarine, "and papa has been so courageous! All that
I desire in life is to be loved as he loves you. He has thought only of
your grief."

"My dream is fulfilled!" said the poor woman, dropping upon the sofa at
the corner of the fireplace, pale, livid, terrified. "I foresaw it all.
I warned you on that fatal night, in our old room which you pulled to
pieces, that we should have nothing left but our eyes to weep with. My
poor Cesarine, I--"

"Now, there you go!" cried Cesar; "you will take away from me the
courage I need."

"Forgive me, dear friend," said Constance, taking his hand, and pressing
it with a tenderness which went to the heart of the poor man. "I do
wrong. Misfortune has come; I will be silent, resigned, strong to bear
it. No, you shall never hear a complaint from me." She threw herself
into his arms, weeping, and whispering, "Courage, dear friend, courage!
I will have courage for both, if necessary."

"My oil, wife,--my oil will save us!"

"May God help us!" said Constance.

"Anselme will help my father," said Cesarine.

"I'll go and see him," cried Cesar, deeply moved by the passionate
accents of his wife, who after nineteen years of married life was not
yet fully known to him. "Constance, fear nothing! Here, read du
Tillet's letter to Monsieur de Nucingen; we are sure to obtain a credit.
Besides," he said, allowing himself a necessary lie, "there is our uncle
Pillerault; that is enough to give us courage."

"If that were all!" said Constance, smiling.

Birotteau, relieved of a heavy weight, walked away like a man suddenly
set at liberty, though he felt within him that indefinable sinking which
succeeds great moral struggles in which more of the nervous fluid, more
of the will is emitted than should be spent at one time, and by which,
if we may say so, the capital of the existence is drawn upon. Birotteau
had aged already.

* * * * *

The house of A. Popinot, Rue des Cinq-Diamants, had undergone a great
change in two months. The shop was repainted. The shelves, re-varnished
and gilded and crowded with bottles, rejoiced the eye of thos