During your visit, slip into the skull a few thousand-franc notes.

Philippe, you owe them to us; nevertheless, your brother will feel grateful to you, not to speak of the happiness you will give Your mother, Agathe Bridau, nee Rouget Two days later the concierge brought to the atelier, where poor Agathe was breakfasting with Joseph, the following terrible letter:-- My dear Mother,--A man does not marry a Mademoiselle Amelie de Soulanges without the purse of Fortunatus, if under the name of Comte de Brambourg he hides that of Your son, Philippe Bridau As Agathe fell half-fainting on the sofa, the letter dropped to the floor.

The slight noise made by the paper, and the smothered but dreadful exclamation which escaped Agathe startled Joseph, who had forgotten his mother for a moment and was vehemently rubbing in a sketch; he leaned his head round the edge of his canvas to see what had happened.

The sight of his mother stretched out on the floor made him drop palette and brushes, and rush to lift what seemed a lifeless body.
He took Agathe in his arms and carried her to her own bed, and sent the servant for his friend Horace Bianchon.

As soon as he could question his mother she told him of her letter to Philippe, and of the answer she had received from him.