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"Read that!"

"Monsieur Grandet, one of the most respected merchants in Paris,
blew his brains out yesterday, after making his usual appearance
at the Bourse. He had sent his resignation to the president of the
Chamber of Deputies, and had also resigned his functions as a
judge of the commercial courts. The failures of Monsieur Roguin
and Monsieur Souchet, his broker and his notary, had ruined him.
The esteem felt for Monsieur Grandet and the credit he enjoyed
were nevertheless such that he might have obtained the necessary
assistance from other business houses. It is much to be regretted
that so honorable a man should have yielded to momentary despair,"
etc.

"I knew it," said the old wine-grower to the notary.

The words sent a chill of horror through Maitre Cruchot, who,
notwithstanding his impassibility as a notary, felt the cold running
down his spine as he thought that Grandet of Paris had possibly
implored in vain the millions of Grandet of Saumur.

"And his son, so joyous yesterday--"

"He knows nothing as yet," answered Grandet, with the same composure.

"Adieu! Monsieur Grandet," said Cruchot, who now understood the state
of the case, and went off to reassure Monsieur de Bonfons.

On entering, Grandet found breakfast ready. Madame Grandet, round
whose neck Eugenie had flung her arms, kissing her with the quick
effusion of feeling often caused by secret grief, was already seated
in her chair on castors, knitting sleeves for the coming winter.

"You can begin to eat," said Nanon, coming downstairs four steps at a
time; "the young one is sleeping like a cherub. Isn't he a darling
with his eyes shut? I went in and I called him: no answer."

"Let him sleep," said Grandet; "he'll wake soon enough to hear
ill-tidings."

"What is it?" asked Eugenie, putting into her coffee the two little
bits of sugar weighing less than half an ounce which the old miser
amused himself by cutting up in his leisure hours. Madame Grandet, who
did not dare to put the question, gazed at her husband.

"His father has blown his brains out."

"My uncle?" said Eugenie.

"Poor young man!" exclaimed Madame Grandet.

"Poor indeed!" said Grandet; "he isn't worth a sou!"

"Eh! poor boy, and he's sleeping like the king of the world!" said
Nanon in a gentle voice.

Eugenie stopped eating. Her heart was wrung, as the young heart is
wrung when pity for the suffering of one she loves overflows, for the
first time, the whole being of a woman. The poor girl wept.

"What are you crying about? You didn't know your uncle," said her
father, giving her one of those hungry tigerish looks he doubtless
threw upon his piles of gold.

"But, monsieur," said Nanon, "who wouldn't feel pity for the poor
young man, sleeping there like a wooden shoe, without knowing what's
coming?"

"I didn't speak to you, Nanon. Hold your tongue!"

Eugenie learned at that moment that the woman who loves must be able

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