ng himself.
"I will get you the money from one of my friends, at five per cent."

"Hey! if it isn't the worthy Pere Pillerault! Why, to be sure, he's your
uncle," she said to Constance. "Well, you are all honest people, and I
sha'n't lose my money, shall I? To-morrow morning, then, old fellow!"
she said to the retired iron-monger.

* * * * *

Cesar was determined to live on amid the wreck of his fortunes at "The
Queen of Roses," insisting that he would see his creditors and explain
his affairs to them himself. Despite Madame Birotteau's earnest
entreaties, Pillerault seemed to approve of Cesar's decision and took
him back to his own room. The wily old man then went to Monsieur Haudry,
explained the case, and obtained from him a prescription for a sleeping
draught, which he took to be made up, and then returned to spend the
evening with the family. Aided by Cesarine he induced her father to
drink with them. The narcotic soon put Cesar to sleep, and when he
woke up, fourteen hours later, he was in Pillerault's bedroom, Rue des
Bourdonnais, fairly imprisoned by the old man, who was sleeping himself
on a cot-bed in the salon.

When Constance heard the coach containing Pillerault and Cesar roll away
from the door, her courage deserted her. Our powers are often stimulated
by the necessity of upholding some being feebler than ourselves. The
poor woman wept to find herself alone in her home as she would have wept
for Cesar dead.

"Mamma," said Cesarine, sitting on her mother's knee, and caressing her
with the pretty kittenish grace which women only display to perfection
amongst themselves, "you said that if I took up my life bravely, you
would have strength to bear adversity. Don't cry, dear mother; I am
ready and willing to go into some shop, and I shall never think again of
what we once were. I shall be like you in your young days; and you shall
never hear a complaint, nor even a regret, from me. I have a hope. Did
you not hear what Monsieur Anselme said?"

"That dear boy! he shall not be my son-in-law--"

"Oh, mamma!"

"--he shall be my own son."

"Sorry has one good," said Cesarine, kissing her mother; "it teaches us
to know our true friends."

The daughter at last eased the pain of the poor woman by changing places
and playing the mother to her. The next morning Constance went to the
house of the Duc de Lenoncourt, one of the gentlemen of the king's
bedchamber, and left a letter a