“Before a notary?”
“Monsieur; I am not forbidden to aim at my complete reinstatement; to obtain it, all deeds and receipts must be legal and undeniable.”
“Come, then,” said du Tillet, going out with Birotteau; “it is only a step. But where did you take all that money from?”
“I have not taken it,” said Cesar; “I have earned it by the sweat of my brow.”
“You owe an enormous sum to Claparon.”
“Alas! yes; that is my largest debt. I think sometimes I shall die before I pay it.”
“You never can pay it,” said du Tillet harshly.
“He is right,” thought Birotteau.
As he went home the poor man passed, inadvertently, along the Rue Saint-Honore; for he was in the habit of making a circuit to avoid seeing his shop and the windows of his former home. For the first time since his fall he saw the house where eighteen years of happiness had been effaced by the anguish of three months.
“I hoped to end my days there,” he thought; and he hastened his steps, for he caught sight of the new sign,—