in his ear.

"Well, how much do you want to buy fruit in the market?"

"Why, my good monsieur, to carry on my business, I should want--Yes, I
should certainly want ten francs."

Popinot signed to Lavienne, who took ten francs out of a large bag, and
handed them to the woman, while the lawyer made a note of the loan in
his ledger. As he saw the thrill of delight that made the poor hawker
tremble, Bianchon understood the apprehensions that must have agitated
her on her way to the lawyer's house.

"You next," said Lavienne to the old man with the white beard.

Bianchon drew the servant aside, and asked him how long this audience
would last.

"Monsieur has had two hundred persons this morning, and there are eight
to be turned off," said Lavienne. "You will have time to pay your early
visit, sir."

"Here, my boy," said the lawyer, turning round and taking Horace by the
arm; "here are two addresses near this--one in the Rue de Seine, and the
other in the Rue de l'Arbalete. Go there at once. Rue de Seine, a young
girl has just asphyxiated herself; and Rue de l'Arbalete, you will find
a man to remove to your hospital. I will wait breakfast for you."

Bianchon returned an hour later. The Rue du Fouarre was deserted; day
was beginning to dawn there; his uncle had gone up to his rooms; the
last poor wretch whose misery the judge had relieved was departing, and
Lavienne's money bag was empty.

"Well, how are they going on?" asked the old lawyer, as the doctor came
in.

"The man is dead," replied Bianchon; "the girl will get over it."

Since the eye and hand of a woman had been lacking, the flat in which
Popinot lived had assumed an aspect in harmony with its master's. The
indifference of a man who is absorbed in one dominant idea had set its
stamp of eccentricity on everything. Everywhere lay unconquerable
dust, every object was adapted to a wrong purpose with a pertinacity
suggestive of a bachelor's home. There were papers in the flower vases,
empty ink-bottles on the tables, plates that had been forgotten, matches
used as tapers for a minute when something had to be found, drawers or
boxes half-turned out and left unfinished; in short, all the confusion
and vacancies resulting from plans for order never carried out. The
lawyer's private room, especially disordered by this incessant rummage,
bore witness to his unresting pace, the hurry of a man overwhelmed with
business, hunted by contradictory necessities. The bookc