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Updated: May 12, 2025
"Thank you, my uncle; a word to the wise is enough," said Popinot, to whom Cesar's heart-rending exclamation was now explained. The merchant in oils, refined and otherwise, returned to his gloomy shop with an anxious brow. Birotteau saw the change. "Will you do me the honor to come up into my bedroom? We shall be better there. The clerks, though very busy, might overhear us."
From thence they went, at Cesar's request, to a judge of the commercial courts. The conference between Crottat and the magistrate lasted long, and the president of the chamber of notaries was summoned. Cesar was carried about from place to place, like a bale of goods; he never moved, and said nothing. Towards seven in the evening Alexandre Crottat took him home.
Birotteau saw his coffers empty, and terror seized him: such a thing had never happened throughout his whole commercial life. Like all persons who have never struggled long with poverty, and who are by nature feeble, this circumstance, so common among the greater number of the petty Parisian tradesmen, disturbed for a moment Cesar's brain.
Cesar's two supporters, entering the precincts of bankruptcy, crossed the first room, which was clean and chilly and without curtains to its windows. All three sat down in the inner room where the money-lender lived, before a hearth full of ashes, in the midst of which the wood was successfully defending itself against the fire.
When they reached Shorty he hustled them around to pitch their tents, but he was not fast enough to please the Orderly, who presently appeared, with the remark: "Cesar's ghost. Shorty, how slow you are. Are you going to be all night getting up two or three tents? Get a move on you, now, for there's a rain coming up, and besides I want you for something else as soon's you're through with this?"
Du Tillet knew very well what it was, for the Kellers had made inquiries of Claparon, who by referring them to du Tillet had demolished the past reputation of the poor man. Though quickly checked, the tears on Cesar's face spoke volumes.
The pupils of Cesar's eyes dilated so enormously that he saw only red flames. "Your hundred thousand francs in his hands, my hundred thousand for his practice, a hundred thousand from Claparon, there's three hundred thousand francs purloined, not to speak of other thefts which will be discovered," exclaimed the young notary. "Madame Roguin is not to be counted on.
He went up the dirty, tortuous staircase which he once trod so proudly. He recalled to mind the mean and niggardly acrimony of Molineux, and he shrank from imploring his favor. The landlord was sitting in the chimney-corner, as on the occasion of Cesar's first visit, but his breakfast was now in process of digestion. Birotteau proffered his request.
This trifling circumstance roused the suspicions of old Popinot as to Cesar's intentions; he turned into the Rue des Lombards, and when he saw the perfumer re-enter Anselme's door, he came hastily back again. "My dear Popinot," said Cesar to his partner, "I have come to ask a service of you." "What can I do?" cried Popinot with generous ardor.
"Exactly, mademoiselle," said the architect; "the charm comes from the harmony which reigns between the wainscots, walls, cornices, and the decorations; I have gilded nothing, the colors are sober, and not extravagant in tone." "It is a science," said Cesarine. A boudoir in green and white led into Cesar's study.
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