"One minute more, I beseech!" said Morel; and he fell on his knees
upon the floor. Through a chink in the door, he threw a last look upon
his family, and clasping his hands, he uttered, in a low, heart-rending
voice, while tears flowed down his haggard cheeks: "Farewell,
my dear children--my poor wife! may heaven preserve you all!
Farewell!"

"Make haste and cut that sermon," said Bourdin, brutally, "Malicorne
is quite right; you needn't make so much fuss about leaving the
stinking kennel. What a hole! what a hole!"

Morel rose to follow the bailiff, when the words "Father! father!"
sounded on the staircase.

"Louise!" exclaimed the lapidary, raising his hands toward heaven; "I
can then clasp you to my breast before I go!"

"I thank thee, God, I am in time!" said the voice, approaching nearer
and nearer, and light steps were heard rapidly ascending the stairs.

"Be calm, my dear," said a third voice, sharp, asthmatic, and out of
breath, coming from a lower part of the house;

"I will lay in wait, if I must, in the alley, with my broom and my old
darling, and they sha'n't leave here till you have spoken to them, the
contemptible beggars!"

The reader has doubtless recognized Mrs. Pipelet, who, less nimble
than Louise, followed her slowly. An instant after, the lapidary's
daughter was in her father's arms.