ood brother," said Monsieur Loraux, "a virtuous and gentle
wife, a tender daughter, two good friends,--your uncle and our dear
Anselme,--two indulgent creditors, the Ragons: all these kind hearts
will pour balm upon your wounds daily, and will help you to bear your
cross. Promise me to have the firmness of a martyr, and to face the blow
without faltering."

The abbe coughed, to give notice to Pillerault who was waiting in the
salon.

"My resignation is unbounded," said Cesar, calmly. "Dishonor has come; I
must now think only of reparation."

The firm voice of the poor man and his whole manner surprised Cesarine
and the priest. Yet nothing could be more natural. All men can better
bear a known and definite misfortune than the cruel uncertainties of
a fate which, from one moment to another, brings excessive hope or
crushing sorrow.

"I have dreamed a dream for twenty-two years; to-day I awake with my
cudgel in my hand," said Cesar, his mind turning back to the Tourangian
peasant days.

Pillerault pressed his nephew in his arms as he heard the words.
Birotteau saw that his wife, Anselme, and Celestin were present. The
papers which the head-clerk held in his hand were significant. Cesar
calmly contemplated the little group where every eye was sad but loving.

"Stay!" he said, unfastening his cross, which he held out to the Abbe
Loraux; "give it back to me on the day when I can wear it without shame.
Celestin," he added, "write my resignation as deputy-mayor,--Monsieur
l'abbe will dictate the letter to you; date it the 14th, and send it at
once to Monsieur de la Billardiere by Raguet."

Celestin and the abbe went down stairs. For a quarter of an hour silence
reigned unbroken in Cesar's study. Such strength of mind surprised
the family. Celestin and the abbe came back, and Cesar signed his
resignation. When his uncle Pillerault presented the schedule and the
papers of his assignment, the poor man could not repress a horrible
nervous shudder.

"My God, have pity upon me!" he said, signing the dreadful paper, and
holding it out to Celestin.

"Monsieur," said Anselme Popinot, over whose dejected brow a luminous
light flashed suddenly, "madame, do me the honor to grant me the hand of
Mademoiselle Cesarine."

At these words tears came into the eyes of all present except Cesar; he
rose, took Anselme by the hand and said, in a hollow voice, "My son, you
shall never marry the daughter of a bankrupt."

Anselme looked fi