common-weal of nations and of individual life? _When the effect
produced is no longer in direct relation nor in equal proportion to
the cause, disorganization has begun._ And yet such monuments stand
everywhere; it is tradition and the stones of the earth which tell us
of the past, which set a seal upon the caprices of indomitable
destiny, whose hand wipes out our dreams, and shows us that all great
events are summed up in one idea. Troy and Napoleon are but poems. May
this present history be the poem of middle-class vicissitudes, to
which no voice has given utterance because they have seemed poor in
dignity, enormous as they are in volume. It is not one man with whom
we are now to deal, but a whole people, or world, of sorrows.



III

Cesar's last thought as he fell asleep was a fear that his wife would
make peremptory objections in the morning, and he ordered himself to
get up very early and escape them. At the dawn of day he slipped out
noiselessly, leaving his wife in bed, dressed quickly, and went down
to the shop, just as the boy was taking down the numbered shutters.
Birotteau, finding himself alone, the clerks not having appeared, went
to the doorway to see how the boy, named Raguet, did his work,--for
Birotteau knew all about it from experience. In spite of the sharp air
the weather was beautiful.

"Popinot, get your hat, put on your shoes, and call Monsieur Celestin;
you and I will go and have a talk in the Tuileries," he said, when he
saw Anselme come down.