s observed, places spied upon. To live at ease, crime
must have a sanction like that of the Bourse; like that conceded by
Cerizet's clients; who never complained of his usury, and, indeed, would
have been troubled in mind if their flayer were not in his den of a
Tuesday.

"Well, my dear monsieur," said Madame Perrache, the porter's wife, as
he passed her lodge, "how do you find him, that friend of God, that poor
man?"

"I am not the doctor," replied Cerizet, who now decidedly declined that
role. "I am Madame Cardinal's business man. I have just advised her to
have a cot-bed put up, so as to nurse her uncle night and day; though,
perhaps, she will have to get a regular nurse."

"I can help her," said Madame Perrache. "I nurse women in childbed."

"Well, we'll see about it," said Cerizet; "I'll arrange all that. Who is
the tenant on your first floor?"

"Monsieur du Portail. He has lodged here these thirty years. He is a man
with a good income, monsieur; highly respectable, and elderly. You know
people who invest in the Funds live on their incomes. He used to be in
business. But it is more than eleven years now since he has been trying
to restore the reason of a daughter of one of his friends, Mademoiselle
Lydie de la Peyrade. She has the best advice, I can tell you; the very
first doctors in Paris; only this morning they had a consultation. But
so far nothing has cured her; and they have to watch her pretty close;
for sometimes she gets up and walks at night--"

"Mademoiselle Lydie de la Peyrade!" exclaimed Cerizet; "are you sure of
the name?"

"I've heard Madame Katte, her nurse, who also does the cooking, call
her so a thousand times, monsieur; though, generally, neither Monsieur
Bruneau, the valet, nor Madame Katte say much. It's like talking to the
wall to try and get any information out of them. We have been porters
here these twenty years and we've never found out anything about
Monsieur du Portail yet. More than that, monsieur, he owns the little
house alongside; you see the double door from here. Well, he can go out
that way and receive his company too, and we know nothing about it. Our
owner doesn't know anything more than we do; when people ring at that
door, Monsieur Bruneau goes and opens it."

"Then you didn't see the gentleman who is talking with him in the garden
go by this way?"

"Bless me! no, that I didn't!"

"Ah!" thought Cerizet as he got into the cabriolet, "she must be the
daughter of th