idual life? _When the effect produced is no longer in direct
relation nor in equal proportion to the cause, disorganization has
begun._ And yet such monuments stand everywhere; it is tradition and the
stones of the earth which tell us of the past, which set a seal upon the
caprices of indomitable destiny, whose hand wipes out our dreams, and
shows us that all great events are summed up in one idea. Troy and
Napoleon are but poems. May this present history be the poem of
middle-class vicissitudes, to which no voice has given utterance because
they have seemed poor in dignity, enormous as they are in volume. It is
not one man with whom we are now to deal, but a whole people, or world,
of sorrows.

III

Cesar's last thought as he fell asleep was a fear that his wife would
make peremptory objections in the morning, and he ordered himself to
get up very early and escape them. At the dawn of day he slipped out
noiselessly, leaving his wife in bed, dressed quickly, and went down
to the shop, just as the boy was taking down the numbered shutters.
Birotteau, finding himself alone, the clerks not having appeared, went
to the doorway to see how the boy, named Raguet, did his work,--for
Birotteau knew all about it from experience. In spite of the sharp air
the weather was beautiful.

"Popinot, get your hat, put on your shoes, and call Monsieur Celestin;
you and I will go and have a talk in the Tuileries," he said, when he
saw Anselme come down.

Popinot, the admirable antipodes of du Tillet, apprenticed to Cesar by
one of those lucky chances which lead us to believe in a Sub-Providence,
plays so great a part in this history that it becomes absolutely
necessary to sketch his profile here. Madame Ragon was a Popinot. She
had two brothers. One, the youngest of the family, was at this time a
judge in the Lower courts of the Seine,--courts which take cognizance
of all civil contests involving sums above a certain amount. The eldest,
who was in the wholesale wool-trade, lost his property and died, leaving
to the care of Madame Ragon and his brother an only son, who had lost
his mother at his birth. To give him a trade, Madame Ragon placed
her nephew at "The Queen of Roses," hoping he might some day succeed
Birotteau. Anselme Popinot was a little fellow and club-footed,--an
infirmity bestowed by fate on Lord Byron, Walter Scott, and Monsieur de
Talleyrand, that others so afflicted might suffer no discouragement. He
had the bril