"Morel, it is for the bill in the hands of Louise's master! We are all
lost!" said Madeleine, with a sorrowful voice.

"This is the warrant," said Malicorne, taking from his dirty pocket-book
a stamped writ.

After having mumbled over in the usual way a part of this document, in
a voice hardly intelligible, he pronounced distinctly the last words,
unfortunately too well understood by the artisan.--

"As final judgment, the court condemns Jerome Morel to pay to Pierre
Petit-Jean, merchant,[Footnote: The crafty notary incompetent to
proceed in his own name, had got from the unfortunate Morel a blank
acceptance, and had introduced a third party's name.] by all his
goods, and even with his body, the sum of thirteen hundred francs,
with lawful interest, dated from the day of the protest; and he is
besides condemned to pay all other and extra costs. Given and judged
at Paris, the 30th of September," etc., etc.

"And Louise, then? Louise!" cried Morel, almost distracted, without
appearing to have heard what had just been read. "Where is she? She
must have left the lawyer, since he sends me to prison. Louise! my
child! what has become of her?"

"Who is this Louise?" said Bourdin.

"Let him alone," said Malicorne. "Don't you see he's coming the
artful?" Then, approaching Morel, he added: "Come, to the
right-about-face, march; I want to breathe the air, I am poisoned here!"