rounds among business men to-day. You might hawk about those notes of
Popinot in vain; you would meet humiliating refusals; no one would take
them; no one could be sure how many such notes you are issuing; every
one expects you to sacrifice the poor lad to your own safety. You would
destroy to no purpose the credit of the house of Popinot. Do you
know how much the boldest money-lender would give you for those fifty
thousand francs? Twenty thousand at the most; twenty thousand, do you
hear me? There are crises in business when we must stand up three days
before the world without eating, as if we had indigestion, and on the
fourth day we may be admitted to the larder of credit. You cannot live
through those three days; and the whole matter lies there. My poor
nephew, take courage! file your schedule, make an assignment. Here is
Popinot, here am I; we will go to work as soon as the clerks have gone
to bed, and spare you the agony of it."

"My uncle!" said Cesar, clasping his hands.

"Cesar, would you choose a shameful failure, in which there are no
assets? Your share in the house of Popinot is all that saves your
honor."

Cesar, awakened by this last and fatal stream of light, saw at length
the frightful truth in its full extent; he fell back upon the sofa, from
thence to his knees, and his mind seemed to wander; he became like a
little child. His wife thought he was dying. She knelt down to raise
him, but joined her voice to his when she saw him clasp his hands and
lift his eyes, and recite, with resigned contrition, in the hearing of
his uncle, his daughter, and Popinot, the sublime catholic prayer:--

"Our Father who art in heaven, hallowed be Thy name; Thy kingdom come;
Thy will be done on earth, as it is in heaven; GIVE US THIS DAY OUR
DAILY BREAD; and forgive us our offences, as we forgive those who have
offended against us. So be it!"

Tears came into the eyes of the stoic Pillerault; Cesarine, overcome and
weeping, leaned her head upon Popinot's shoulder, as he stood pale and
rigid as a statue.

"Let us go below," said the old merchant, taking the arm of the young
man.

It was half-past eleven when they left Cesar to the care of his wife
and daughter. Just at that moment Celestin, the head-clerk, to whom the
management of the house had been left during this secret tumult, came up
to the appartement and entered the salon. Hearing his step, Cesarine ran
to meet him, that he might not see the prostration of hi