should like to be a druggist, because one would always be
able to punish an enemy; and if one has a quarrel with anyone it would
be easy to get rid of him by means of a poisoned draught.' I neglected
these warnings. I surmounted the feeling of repugnance I first felt at
the sight of him; I have responded to his advances, and I greatly fear I
may have cause to repent it. But you know him as well as I do, who would
not have thought his piety sincere?--who would not still think so? And
notwithstanding all you have said, I still hesitate to feel serious
alarm; I am unwilling to believe in such utter depravity."

The conversation continued in this strain for some time, and then, as it
was getting late, the party separated.

Next morning early, a large and noisy crowd was assembled in the rue
Saint-Victor before Derues' shop of drugs and groceries. There was a
confusion of cross questions, of inquiries which obtained no answer, of
answers not addressed to the inquiry, a medley of sound, a pell-mell
of unconnected words, of affirmations, contradictions, and interrupted
narrations. Here, a group listened to an orator who held forth in
his shirt sleeves, a little farther there were disputes, quarrels,
exclamations of "Poor man!" "Such a good fellow!" "My poor gossip
Derues!" "Good heavens! what will he do now?" "Alas! he is quite done
for; it is to be hoped his creditors will give him time!" Above all this
uproar was heard a voice, sharp and piercing like a cat's, lamenting,
and relating with sobs the terrible misfortune of last night. At about
three in the morning the inhabitants of the rue St. Victor had been
startled out of their sleep by the cry of "Fire, fire!" A conflagration
had burst forth in Derues' cellar, and though its progress had been
arrested and the house saved from destruction, all the goods stored
therein had perished. It apparently meant a considerable loss in barrels
of oil, casks of brandy, boxes of soap, etc., which Derues estimated at
not less than nine thousand livres.

By what unlucky chance the fire had been caused he had no idea. He
recounted his visit to Madame Legrand, and pale, trembling, hardly able
to sustain himself, he cried--

"I shall die of grief! A poor man as ill as I am! I am lost! I am
ruined!"

A harsh voice interrupted his lamentations, and drew the attention
of the crowd to a woman carrying printed broadsides, and who forced a
passage through the crowd up to the shop door. She unf