"No, stay with Cecile. Besides, Jean Violette was to pay the rest of
the purchase-money to-day. He has twenty thousand francs to bring you.
This is the third time he has put us off three months; don't grant him
any more delays; if he can't pay now, give his note to Courtet, the
sheriff, and take the law of him. Achille Pigoult will tell you how to
proceed. That Violette is the worthy son of his grandfather; I think
he is capable of enriching himself by going into bankruptcy,--there's
neither law nor gospel in him."

"He is very intelligent," said Beauvisage.

"You have given him the good-will of a fine business for thirty
thousand francs, which is certainly worth fifty thousand; and in ten
years he has only paid you ten thousand--"

"I never sued anybody yet," replied Beauvisage, "and I'd rather lose
my money than torment a poor man--"

"A man who laughs at you!"

Beauvisage was silent; feeling unable to reply to that cruel remark,
he looked at the boards which formed the floor of the salon.

Perhaps the progressive abolition of mind and will in Beauvisage will
be explained by the abuse of sleep. Going to bed every night at eight
o'clock and getting up the next morning at eight, he had slept his
twelve hours nightly for the last twenty years, never waking; or if
that extraordinary event did occur, it was so serious a matter to his
mind that he talked of it all day. He spent an hour at his toilet, for
his wife had trained him not to appear in her presence at breakfast