Though the hour for luncheon has not arrived, yet no one is seen on the platforms above; and O bon Dieu! what a crowd of people is seen at the foot of the building! Master, workmen, neighbours--all are there, in haste and tumult.

A workman has fallen from the scaffold.

It is poor little Abel.
Hilaire pressed forward to see his beloved boy lie bleeding on the ground! Abel is dying, but before he expires, he whispers, "Master, I have not been able to finish the work, but for my poor mother's sake do not dismiss my father because there is one day short!" The boy died, and was carried home by his sorrowful parent.

The place was preserved for Hilaire, and his wages were even doubled.

But it was too late.