Constance and Cesar laid these wise words to heart.  Pillerault left them to go to the Bourse, which in those days was held in a provisional wooden building of a circular shape, and was entered from the Rue Faydeau.  The failure, already known, of a man lately noted and envied, excited general comment in the upper commercial circles, which at that period were all “constitutionnel.”  The gentry of the Opposition claimed a monopoly of patriotism.  Royalists might love the king, but to love your country was the exclusive privilege of the Left; the people belonged to it.  The downfall of the protege of the palace, of a ministeralist, an incorrigible royalist who on the 13th Vendemiaire had insulted the cause of liberty by fighting against the glorious French Revolution,—­such a downfall excited the applause and tittle-tattle of the Bourse.  Pillerault wished to learn and study the state of public opinion.  He found in one of the most animated groups du Tillet, Gobenheim-Keller, Nucingen, old Guillaume, and his son-in-law Joseph Lebas, Claparon, Gigonnet, Mongenod, Camusot, Gobseck, Adolphe Keller, Palma, Chiffreville, Matifat, Grindot, and Lourdois.

“What caution one needs to have!” said Gobenheim to du Tillet.  “It was a mere chance that one of my brothers-in-law did not give Birotteau a credit.”

“I am in for ten thousand francs,” said du Tillet; “he asked me for them two weeks ago, and I let him have them on his own note without security.  But he formerly did me some service, and I am willing to lose the money.”

“Your nephew has done like all the rest,” said Lourdois to Pillerault, —­“given balls and parties!  That a scoundrel should try to throw dust in people’s eyes, I can understand; but it is amazing that a man who passed for as honest as the day should play those worn-out, knavish tricks which we are always finding out and condemning.”

“Don’t trust people unless they live in hovels like Claparon,” said Gigonnet.

“Hey! mein freint,” said the fat Nucingen to du Tillet, “you haf joust missed blaying me a bretty drick in zenting Pirodot to me.  I don’t know,” he added, addressing Gobenheim the manufacturer, “vy he tid not ask me for fifdy tousand francs.  I should haf gif dem to him.”

“Oh, no, Monsieur le baron,” said Joseph Lebas, “you knew very well that the Bank had refused his paper; you made them reject it in the committee on discounts.  The affair of this unfortunate man, for whom I still feel the highest esteem, presents certain peculiar circumstances.”

Pillerault pressed the hand of Joseph Lebas.

“Yes,” said Mongenod, “it seems impossible to believe what has happened, unless we believe that concealed behind Gigonnet there are certain bankers who want to strangle the speculation in the lands about the Madeleine.”

“What has happened is what happens always to those who go out of their proper business,” said Claparon, hastily interrupting Mongenod.  “If he had set up his own Cephalic Oil instead of running up the price of all the land in Paris by pouncing upon it, he might have lost his hundred thousand francs with Roguin, but he wouldn’t have failed.  He will go on now under the name of Popinot.”