“To-morrow, I shall know the truth,” said Desroches, in a low tone, to Godeschal; “no one chatters like a beaten man.”

La Peyrade departed, carrying with him the deed of relinquishment.  At eleven o’clock he was in the courtroom of the justice-of-peace, perfectly calm, and firm.  When he saw Cerizet come in, pale with rage, his eyes full of venom, he said in his ear:—­

“My dear friend, I’m a pretty good fellow myself, and I hold that twenty-five thousand francs in good bank-bills at your disposal, whenever you will return to me those notes of mine which you hold.”

Cerizet looked at the advocate of the poor, without being able to say one word in reply; he was green; the bile had struck in.

CHAPTER XIII

THE PERVERSITY OF DOVES

“I am a non-dispossessable property-owner!” cried Thuillier, coming home after visiting his notary.  “No human power can get that house away from me.  Cardot says so.”

The bourgeoisie think much more of what their notary tells them than of what their attorney says.  The notary is nearer to them than any other ministerial officer.  The Parisian bourgeois never pays a visit to his attorney without a sense of fear; whereas he mounts the stairs with ever-renewed pleasure to see his notary; he admires that official’s virtue and his sound good sense.

“Cardot, who is looking for an apartment for one of his clients, wants to know about our second floor,” continued Thuillier.  “If I choose he’ll introduce to me on Sunday a tenant who is ready to sign a lease for eighteen years at forty thousand francs and taxes!  What do you say to that, Brigitte?”

“Better wait,” she replied.  “Ah! that dear Theodose, what a fright he gave me!”

“Hey! my dearest girl, I must tell you that when Cardot asked who put me in the way of this affair he said I owed him a present of at least ten thousand francs.  The fact is, I owe it all to him.”

“But he is the son of the house,” responded Brigitte.

“Poor lad!  I’ll do him the justice to say that he asks for nothing.”

“Well, dear, good friend,” said la Peyrade, coming in about three o’clock, “here you are, richissime!”

“And through you, Theodose.”

“And you, little aunt, have you come to life again?  Ah! you were not half as frightened as I was.  I put your interests before my own; I haven’t breathed freely till this morning at eleven o’clock; and yet I am sure now of having two mortal enemies at my heels in the two men I have tricked for your sake.  As I walked home, just now, I asked myself what could be your influence over me to make me commit such a crime, and whether the happiness of belonging to your family and becoming your son could ever efface the stain I have put upon my conscience.”

“Bah! you can confess it,” said Thuillier, the free-thinker.