s receipt for his own claim of
twenty-five thousand. No human power can deprive me of the right of
lending to my father-in-law, by anticipating our profits of next year,
the necessary sum to make up the total amount due to his creditor,
and--he--will--be--reinstated--restored--"

"Restored!" cried Madame Cesar, falling on her knees beside a chair. She
joined her hands and said a prayer; as she did so, the letter slid from
her fingers. "Dear Anselme," she said, crossing herself, "dear son!" She
took his head in her hands, kissed him on the forehead, pressed him to
her heart, and seemed for a moment beside herself. "Cesarine is thine!
My daughter will be happy at last. She can leave that shop where she is
killing herself--"

"For love?" said Popinot.

"Yes," answered the mother, smiling.

"Listen to a little secret," said Popinot, glancing at the fatal letter
from a corner of his eye. "I helped Celestin to buy your business; but I
did it on one condition,--your appartement was to be kept exactly as you
left it. I had an idea in my head, though I never thought that chance
would favor it so much. Celestin is bound to sub-let to you your old
appartement, where he has never set foot, and where all the furniture
will be yours. I have kept the second story, where I shall live with
Cesarine, who shall never leave you. After our marriage I shall come and
pass the days from eight in the morning till six in the evening here.
I will buy out Monsieur Cesar's share in this business for a hundred
thousand francs, and that will give you an income to live on. Shall you
not be happy?"

"Tell me no more, Anselme, or I shall go out of my mind."

The angelic attitude of Madame Cesar, the purity of her eyes, the
innocence of her candid brow, contradicted so gloriously the thoughts
which surged in the lover's brain that he resolved to make an end of
their monstrosities forever. Sin was incompatible with the life and
sentiments of such a woman.

"My dear, adored mother," said Anselme, "in spite of myself, a horrible
suspicion has entered my soul. If you wish to see me happy, you will put
an end to it at once."

Popinot stretched out his hand and picked up the letter.

"Without intending it," he resumed, alarmed at the terror painted on
Constance's face, "I read the first words of this letter of du Tillet.
The words coincide in a singular manner with the power you have just
shown in forcing that man to accept my absurd exactions; any