e next day Birotteau went to find Madame Madou.

"Ah, there you are, good soul!" she cried. "I didn't recognize you, you
have turned so gray. Yet you don't really drudge, you people; you've got
good places. As for me, I work like a turnspit that deserves baptism."

"But, madame--"

"Never mind, I don't mean it as a reproach," she said. "You have got my
receipt."

"I came to tell you that I shall pay you to-morrow, at Monsieur
Crottat's, the rest of your claim in full, with interest."

"Is that true?"

"Be there at eleven o'clock."

"Hey! there's honor for you! good measure and running over!" she cried
with naive admiration. "Look here, my good monsieur, I am doing a fine
trade with your little red-head. He's a nice young fellow; he lets
me earn a fair penny without haggling over it, so that I may get an
equivalent for that loss. Well, I'll get you a receipt in full, anyhow;
you keep the money, my poor old man! La Madou may get in a fury, and she
does scold; but she has got something here--" she cried, thumping the
most voluminous mounds of flesh ever yet seen in the markets.

"No," said Birotteau, "the law is plain. I wish to pay you in full."

"Then I won't deny you the pleasure," she said; "and to-morrow I'll
trumpet your conduct through the markets. Ha! it's rare, rare!"

The worthy man had much the same scene, with variations, at Lourdois the
house painter's, father-in-law of Crottat. It was raining; Cesar left
his umbrella at the corner of the door. The prosperous painter, seeing
the water trickling into the room where he was breakfasting with his
wife, was not tender.

"Come, what do you want, my poor Pere Birotteau?" he said, in the hard
tone which some people take to importunate beggars.

"Monsieur, has not your son-in-law told you--"

"What?" cried Lourdois, expecting some appeal.

"To be at his office this morning at half past eleven, and give me a
receipt for the payment of your claims in full, with interest?"

"Ah, that's another thing! Sit down, Monsieur Birotteau, and eat a
mouthful with us."

"Do us the pleasure to share our breakfast," said Madame Lourdois.

"You are doing well, then?" asked the fat Lourdois.

"No, monsieur, I have lived from hand to mouth, that I might scrape up
this money; but I hope, in time, to repair the wrongs I have done to my
neighbor."

"Ah!" said the painter, swallowing a mouthful of _pate de foie gras_,
"you are truly a man of honor."

"What is Madame