“Our Father who art in heaven, hallowed be Thy name; Thy kingdom come; Thy will be done on earth, as it is in heaven; GIVE US THIS DAY OUR DAILY BREAD; and forgive us our offences, as we forgive those who have offended against us.  So be it!”

Tears came into the eyes of the stoic Pillerault; Cesarine, overcome and weeping, leaned her head upon Popinot’s shoulder, as he stood pale and rigid as a statue.

“Let us go below,” said the old merchant, taking the arm of the young man.

It was half-past eleven when they left Cesar to the care of his wife and daughter.  Just at that moment Celestin, the head-clerk, to whom the management of the house had been left during this secret tumult, came up to the appartement and entered the salon.  Hearing his step, Cesarine ran to meet him, that he might not see the prostration of his master.

“Among the letters this evening there was one from Tours, which was misdirected and therefore delayed.  I thought it might be from monsieur’s brother, so I did not open it.”

“Father!” cried Cesarine; “a letter from my uncle at Tours!”

“Ah, I am saved!” cried Cesar.  “My brother! oh, my brother!” He kissed the letter, as he broke the seal, and read it aloud to his wife and daughter in a trembling voice:—­

  Answer of Francois to Cesar Birotteau. 
                                             Tours, 10th.

My beloved Brother,—­Your letter gave me the deepest pain.  As soon as I had read it, I went at once and offered to God the holy sacrifice of the Mass, imploring Him by the blood which His Son, our divine Redeemer, shed for us, to look with mercy upon your afflictions.  At the moment when I offered the prayer Pro meo fratre Caesare, my eyes were filled with tears as I thought of you,—­from whom, unfortunately, I am separated in these days when you must sorely need the support of fraternal friendship.  I have thought that the worthy and venerable Monsieur Pillerault would doubtless replace me.  My dear Cesar, never forget, in the midst of your troubles, that this life is a scene of trial, and is passing away; that one day we shall be rewarded for having suffered for the holy name of God, for His holy Church, for having followed the teachings of His Gospel and practised virtue.  If it were otherwise, this world would have no meaning.  I repeat to you these maxims, though I know how good and pious you are, because it may happen that those who, like you, are flung into the storms of life upon the perilous waves of human interests might be tempted to utter blasphemies in the midst of their adversity,—­carried away as they are by anguish.  Curse neither the men who injure you nor the God who mingles, at His will, your joy with bitterness.  Look not on life, but lift your eyes to heaven; there is comfort for the weak, there are riches for the poor, there are terrors for the—­

“But, Birotteau,” said his wife, “skip all that, and see what he sends us.”