he judgment; but in a month it would be safe."

"A month!"

Cesar fell into a sort of slumber, from which no one tried to rouse
him,--a species of catalepsy, in which the body lived and suffered while
the functions of the mind were in abeyance. This respite, bestowed by
chance, was looked upon by Constance, Cesarine, Pillerault, and Derville
as a blessing from God. And they judged rightly: Cesar was thus enabled
to bear the harrowing emotions of that night. He was sitting in a corner
of the sofa near the fire; his wife was in the other corner watching him
attentively, with a soft smile upon her lips,--the smile which proves
that women are nearer than men to angelic nature, in that they know how
to mingle an infinite tenderness with an all-embracing compassion; a
secret belonging only to angels seen in dreams providentially strewn at
long intervals through the history of human life. Cesarine, sitting on
a little stool at her mother's feet, touched her father's hand lightly
with her hair from time to time, as she gave him a caress into which
she strove to put the thoughts which, in such crises, the voice seems to
render intrusive.

Seated in his arm-chair, like the Chancelier de l'Hopital on the
peristyle of the Chamber of Deputies, Pillerault--a philosopher prepared
for all events, and showing upon his countenance the wisdom of an
Egyptian sphinx--was talking to Derville and his niece in a suppressed
voice. Constance thought it best to consult the lawyer, whose discretion
was beyond a doubt. With the balance-sheet written in her head, she
explained the whole situation in low tones. After an hour's conference,
held in presence of the stupefied Cesar, Derville shook his head and
looked at Pillerault.

"Madame," he said, with the horrible coolness of his profession, "you
must give in your schedule and make an assignment. Even supposing that
by some contrivance you could meet the payments for to-morrow, you would
have to pay down at least three hundred thousand francs before you could
borrow on those lands. Your liabilities are five hundred thousand. To
meet them you have assets that are very promising, very productive,
but not convertible at present; you must fail within a given time. My
opinion is that it is better to jump out of the window than to roll
downstairs."

"That is my advice, too, dear child," said Pillerault.

Derville left, and Madame Cesar and Pillerault went with him to the
door.

"Poor father!" sai