la belle Hollandaise. I hope, as we desire to be actual owners
of the property, that you obtained Claparon's receipt for the money."

"Alas! uncle, no. The trouble is just there,--you have put your finger
upon the sore."

"Good God! you are ruined!" cried Pillerault, letting fall
his newspaper, which Birotteau picked up, though it was the
"Constitutionnel."

Pillerault was so violently roused by his reflections that his
face--like the image on a medal and of the same stern character--took a
deep bronze tone, such as the metal itself takes under the oscillating
tool of a coiner; he remained motionless, gazing through the
window-panes at the opposite wall, but seeing nothing,--listening,
however, to Birotteau. Evidently he heard and judged, and weighed the
_pros_ and _cons_ with the inflexibility of a Minos who had crossed the
Styx of commerce when he quitted the Quai des Morfondus for his little
third storey.

"Well, uncle?" said Birotteau, who waited for an answer, after closing
what he had to say with an entreaty that Pillerault would sell sixty
thousand francs out of the Funds.

"Well, my poor nephew, I cannot do it; you are too heavily involved. The
Ragons and I each lose our fifty thousand francs. Those worthy people
have, by my advice, sold their shares in the mines of Wortschin: I feel
obliged, in case of loss, not to return the capital of course, but
to succor them, and to succor my niece and Cesarine. You may all want
bread, and you shall find it with me."

"Want bread, uncle?"

"Yes, bread. See things as they are, Cesar. _You cannot extricate
yourself._ With five thousand six hundred francs income, I could
set aside four thousand francs for you and the Ragons. If misfortune
overtakes you,--I know Constance, she will work herself to the bone, she
will deny herself everything; and so will you, Cesar."

"All is not hopeless, uncle."

"I cannot see it as you do."

"I will prove that you are mistaken."

"Nothing would give me greater happiness."

Birotteau left Pillerault without another word. He had come to seek
courage and consolation, and he received a blow less severe, perhaps,
than the first; but instead of striking his head it struck his heart,
and his heart was the whole of life to the poor man. After going down a
few stairs he returned.

"Monsieur," he said, in a cold voice, "Constance knows nothing. Keep my
secret at any rate; beg the Ragons to say nothing, and not to take from
my home th