“A thousand francs, on mortgage?” growled the notary; “and who, pray, will guarantee the interest?  Your property is already mortgaged for more than it is worth.”

“Oh! you are mistaken, sir,” exclaimed Monsieur De Vlierbeck, anxiously.

“Not the least in the world!  By order of the persons who have already accommodated you with money, I caused your property to be appraised at the very highest rates; and the consequence is that your creditors will not get back their loans unless it shall sell for an extraordinary price.  Permit me to say, sir, that you have acted very foolishly:  had I been in your place, I would not have sacrificed all my fortune, and my wife’s too, to save a worthless fellow, even though he had been my brother!”

De Vlierbeck frowned, as a painful recollection shot through his mind, but said nothing, though his hand grasped the golden snuff-box as if he would have crushed it.

“By that imprudent act,” continued the notary, “you have plunged yourself and your child into absolute want; for you can no longer disguise it.  For ten years—­and God knows at what cost—­you have been able to keep the secret of your ruin; but the inevitable hour is approaching, Monsieur De Vlierbeck, when you will be forced to surrender every thing!”

De Vlierbeck riveted a look of doubt and agony on the notary as the latter continued:—­

“I must tell you frankly the condition of your affairs.  Monsieur de Hoogebaen died during his journey in Germany; his heirs found your bond for four thousand francs, and have directed me not to renew it.  If Monsieur Hoogebaen was your friend his heirs certainly are not.  During ten years you have failed to cancel this debt, and have paid two thousand francs interest; so that, for your own sake, it is time the transaction should be closed.  Four months are still left, Monsieur Vlierbeck, before the expiration of—­”

“Only four months!” interrupted the poor gentleman, in a distressed tone; “only four months, and then—­oh, God!”

“Then your property will be sold according to law,” said the notary, dryly, finishing the sentence.  “I can well understand, sir, that this is a painful prospect; but, as it is a decree of fate that no one can control, you have nothing to do but prepare to receive the blow.  Let me offer to sell your estate as if you ‘were leaving the country.’  By that means you will escape the mortification of a forced sale.”

For several moments Monsieur De Vlierbeck remained silent, his face buried in his hands, as if crushed by the notary’s advice and callousness.  At length he replied, calmly but humbly,—­