The catastrophe having come, the smaller creditors showed themselves, as usual, the most angry and the most intractable.  The less money one has, the more anxious one is to keep it.  There was there an old newspaper-vender, who had placed in M. Favoral’s hands all she had in the world, the savings of her entire life,—­five hundred francs.  Clinging desperately to Maxence’s garments, she begged him to give them back to her, swearing, that, if he did not, there was nothing left for her to do, except to throw herself in the river.  Her groans and her cries of distress exasperated the other creditors.

That the cashier of the Mutual Credit should have embezzled millions, they could well understand, they said.  But that he could have robbed this poor woman of her five hundred francs,—­nothing more low, more cowardly, and more vile could be imagined; and the law had no chastisement severe enough for such a crime.

“Give her back her five hundred francs;” they cried.  For there was not one of them but would have wagered his head that M. Favoral had lots of money put away; and some went even so far as to say that he must have hid it in the house, and, if they looked well, they would find it.

Maxence, bewildered, was at a loss what to do, when, in the midst of this hostile crowd, he perceived M. Chapelain’s friendly face.

Driven from his bed at daylight by the bitter regrets at the heavy loss he had just sustained, the old lawyer had arrived in the Rue St. Gilles at the very moment when the creditors invaded M. Favoral’s apartment.  Standing behind the crowd, he had seen and heard every thing without breathing a word; and, if he interfered now, it was because he thought things were about to take an ugly turn.  He was well known; and, as soon as he showed himself,

“He is a friend of the rascal!” they shouted on all sides.

But he was not the man to be so easily frightened.  He had seen many a worse case during twenty years that he had practised law, and had witnessed all the sinister comedies and all the grotesque dramas of money.  He knew how to speak to infuriated creditors, how to handle them, and what strings can be made to vibrate within them.  In the most quiet tone,

“Certainly,” he answered, “I was Favoral’s intimate friend; and the proof of it is, that he has treated me more friendly than the rest.  I am in for a hundred and sixty thousand francs.”

By this mere declaration he conquered the sympathies of the crowd.  He was a brother in misfortune; they respected him:  he was a skilful business-man; they stopped to listen to him.

At once, and in a short and trenchant tone, he asked these invaders what they were doing there, and what they wanted.  Did they not know to what they exposed themselves in violating a domicile?  What would have happened, if, instead of stopping to parley, Maxence had sent for the commissary of police?  Was it to Mme. Favoral and her children that they had intrusted their funds?  No!  What did they want with them then?  Was there by chance among them some of those shrewd fellows who always try to get themselves paid in full, to the detriment of the others?