natural movement of the soul. If it were not, then we
must deny the warfare between the angels of light and the spirits of
darkness.

Du Tillet could not very easily assassinate the man who knew him to
be guilty of a petty theft, but he could fling him into the mire and
annihilate him so completely that his word and testimony would count
for nothing. For a long time revenge had germinated in his heart without
budding; for the men who hate most are usually those who have little
time in Paris to make plans; life is too fast, too full, too much at
the mercy of unexpected events. But such perpetual changes, though they
hinder premeditation, nevertheless offer opportunity to thoughts lurking
in the depths of a purpose which is strong enough to lie in wait for
their tidal chances. When Roguin first confided his troubles to du
Tillet, the latter had vaguely foreseen the possibility of destroying
Cesar, and he was not mistaken. Forced at last to give up his mistress,
the notary drank the dregs of his philter from a broken chalice. He went
every day to the Champs Elysees returning home early in the morning. The
suspicions of Madame Cesar were justified.

* * * * *

From the moment when a man consents to play the part which du Tillet had
allotted to Roguin, he develops the talents of a comedian; he has the
eye of a lynx and the penetration of a seer; he magnetizes his dupe. The
notary had seen Birotteau some time before Birotteau had caught sight of
him; when the perfumer did see him, Roguin held out his hand before they
met.

"I have just been to make the will of a great personage who has only
eight days to live," he said, with an easy manner. "They have treated me
like a country doctor,--fetched me in a carriage, and let me walk home
on foot."

These words chased away the slight shade of suspicion which clouded the
face of the perfumer, and which Roguin had been quick to perceive. The
notary was careful not to be the first to mention the land speculation;
his part was to deal the last blow.

"After wills come marriage contracts," said Birotteau. "Such is life.
Apropos, when do we marry the Madeleine? Hey! hey! papa Roguin," he
added, tapping the notary on the stomach.

Among men the most chaste of bourgeois have the ambition to appear
rakish.

"Well, if it is not to-day," said the notary, with a diplomatic air,
"then never. We are afraid that the affair may get wind. I am much urged
by