“No, monsieur,” replied Thuillier, “no; a man like me cannot rest an hour under such an accusation as this.  Continue your breakfast without us; I hope soon to see you again.  La Peyrade, are you coming?”

“He’s charming, isn’t he?” said Barbet, when Thuillier and his counsel had left the room.  “To ask me to leave a breakfast after the oysters, and go and talk with the police!  Come, messieurs, close up the ranks,” he added, gaily.

“Tiens!” said one of the hungry journalists, who had cast his eyes into the garden of the Palais-Royal, on which the dining-room of the restaurant opened, “there’s Barbanchu going by; suppose I call him in?”

“Yes, certainly,” said Barbet junior, “have him up.”

“Barbanchu!  Barbanchu!” called out the journalist.

Barbanchu, his hat being over his eyes, was some time in discovering the cloud above him whence the voice proceeded.

“Here, up here!” called the voice, which seemed to Barbanchu celestial when he saw himself hailed by a man with a glass of champagne in his hand.  Then, as he seemed to hesitate, the party above called out in chorus:—­

“Come up! come up! There’s fat to be had!”

When Thuillier left the office of the public prosecutor he could no longer have any illusions.  The case against him was serious, and the stern manner in which he had been received made him see that when the trial came up he would be treated without mercy.  Then, as always happens among accomplices after the non-success of an affair they have done in common, he turned upon la Peyrade in the sharpest manner:  La Peyrade had paid no attention to what he wrote; he had given full swing to his stupid Saint-Simonian ideas; he didn’t care for the consequences; it was not he who would have to pay the fine and go to prison!  Then, when la Peyrade answered that the matter did not look to him serious, and he expected to get a verdict of acquittal without difficulty, Thuillier burst forth upon him, vehemently:—­

“Parbleu! the thing is plain enough; monsieur sees nothing in it?  Well, I shall not put my honor and my fortune into the hands of a little upstart like yourself; I shall take some great lawyer if the case comes to trial.  I’ve had enough of your collaboration by this time.”

Under the injustice of these remarks la Peyrade felt his anger rising.  However, he saw himself disarmed, and not wishing to come to an open rupture, he parted from Thuillier, saying that he forgave a man excited by fear, and would go to see him later in the afternoon, when he would probably be calmer; they could then decide on what steps they had better take.

Accordingly, about four o’clock, the Provencal arrived at the house in the Place de la Madeleine.  Thuillier’s irritation was quieted, but frightful consternation had taken its place.  If the executioner were coming in half an hour to lead him to the scaffold he could not have been more utterly unstrung and woe-begone.  When la Peyrade entered Madame Thuillier was trying to make him take an infusion of linden-leaves.  The poor woman had come out of her usual apathy, and proved herself, beside the present Sabinus, another Eponina.