to do it will be endorsed on the foot of the bill."

No one could move him, not even Judge Carcasson, who from his armchair in
Montreal wrote a feeble-handed letter begging him to believe that it was
"well within his rights as a gentleman"--this he put in at the request of
M. Mornay--to take advantage of the privileges of the Bankruptcy Court.
Even then Jean Jacques had only a few moments' hesitation. What the
Judge said made a deep impression; but he had determined to drink the cup
of his misfortune to the dregs. He was set upon complete renunciation;
on going forth like a pilgrim from the place of his troubles and sorrows,
taking no gifts, no mercies save those which heaven accorded him.

When the day of the auction came everything went. Even his best suit
of clothes was sold to a blacksmith, while his fur-coat was bought by a
horse-doctor for fifteen dollars. Things that had been part of his life
for a generation found their way into hands where he would least have
wished them to go--of those who had been envious of him, who had cheated
or deceived him, of people with whom he had had nothing in common. The
red wagon and the pair of little longtailed stallions, which he had
driven for six years, were bought by the owner of a rival flour-mill in
the parish of Vilray; but his best sleigh, with its coon-skin robes, was
bought by the widow of Palass Poucette, who bought also the famous
bearskin which Dolores had given her at Jean Jacques' expense, and had
been returned by her to its proper owner. The silver fruitdish, once (it
was said) the property of the Baron of Beaugard, which each generation of
Barbilles had displayed with as much ceremony as though it was a chalice
given by the Pope, went to Virginie Poucette. Virginie also bought the
furniture from Zoe's bedroom as it stood, together with the little
upright piano on which she used to play. The Cure bought Jean Jacques'
writing-desk, and M. Fille purchased his armchair, in which had sat at