“The case will be decided this week,” said Popinot.  I thought you would not be unwilling that I should explain your situation to Monsieur le president; he has ordered that all Roguin’s papers be submitted to the custody of the court, so as to ascertain the exact time when Roguin made away with the funds of his client, and thus verify the facts alleged by Derville, who made the argument himself to save you the expense.”

“Shall we win?” asked Madame Birotteau.

“I don’t know,” answered Popinot.  “Though I belong to the court in which the suit is bought, I shall abstain from giving an opinion, even if called upon.”

“Can there be any doubt in such a simple case?” said Pillerault.  “Such deeds make mention that payment has been made, and notaries are obliged to declare that they have seen the money passed from the lender to the borrower.  Roguin would be sent to the galleys if the law could get hold of him.

“According to my ideas,” said the judge, “the lender ought to have sued Roguin for the costs and the caution-money; but it sometimes happens at the Cour Royale that in matters even more plain than this the judges stand six against six.”

“Mademoiselle, what are they saying?  Has Monsieur Roguin absconded?” said Anselme, hearing at last what was going on about him.  “Monsieur said nothing of it to me,—­to me who would shed my blood for him—­”

Cesarine fully understood that the whole family were included in the “for him”; for if the innocent girl could mistake the accent, she could not misunderstand the glance, which wrapped her, as it were, in a rosy flame.

“I know you would; I told him so.  He hid everything from my mother, and confided only in me.”

“You spoke to him of me?” said Popinot; “you have read my heart?  Have you read all that is there?”

“Perhaps.”

“I am very happy,” said Popinot.  “If you would lighten all my fears —­in a year I shall be so prosperous that your father cannot object when I speak to him of our marriage.  From henceforth I shall sleep only five hours a night.”

“Do not injure yourself,” said Cesarine, with an inexpressible accent and a look in which Popinot was suffered to read her thoughts.

“Wife,” said Cesar, as they rose from table, “I think those young people love each other.”

“Well, so much the better,” said Constance, in a grave voice; “my daughter will be the wife of a man of sense and energy.  Talent is the best dower a man can offer.”

She left the room hastily and went to Madame Ragon’s bedchamber.  Cesar during the dinner had make various fatuous remarks, which caused the judge and Pillerault to smile, and reminded the unhappy woman of how unfitted her poor husband was to grapple with misfortune.  Her heart was full of tears; and she instinctively dreaded du Tillet, for every mother knows the Timeo Danaos et dona ferentes, even if she does not know Latin.  Constance wept in the arms of Madame Ragon and her daughter, though she would not tell them the cause of her distress.