"Come, march, old fellow!" said he, beginning to descend the stair, and making a sign to the lapidary to follow. "One minute more, I beseech!" said Morel; and he fell on his knees upon the floor. Through a chink in the door, he threw a last look upon his family, and clasping his hands, he uttered, in a low, heart-rending voice, while tears flowed down his haggard cheeks: "Farewell, my dear children--my poor wife! may heaven preserve you all! Farewell!" "Make haste and cut that sermon," said Bourdin, brutally, "Malicorne is quite right; you needn't make so much fuss about leaving the stinking kennel. What a hole! what a hole!" Morel rose to follow the bailiff, when the words "Father! father!" sounded on the staircase. "Louise!" exclaimed the lapidary, raising his hands toward heaven; "I can then clasp you to my breast before I go!" "I thank thee, God, I am in time!" said the voice, approaching nearer and nearer, and light steps were heard rapidly ascending the stairs. "Be calm, my dear," said a third voice, sharp, asthmatic, and out of breath, coming from a lower part of the house; "I will lay in wait, if I must, in the alley, with my broom and my old darling, and they sha'n't leave here till you have spoken to them, the contemptible beggars!" The reader has doubtless recognized Mrs. Pipelet, who, less nimble than Louise, followed her slowly. An instant after, the lapidary's daughter was in her father's arms. "It is indeed you, Louise, my darling Louise!" said Morel, crying; "but how pale you are! For mercy's sake what ails you?" "Nothing, nothing, father," stammered Louise. "I have run so fast. Here is the money!" "How is this?" "You are free!" "So you know?" "Yes, yes! Here, sir, take the money," said the young girl, giving a rouleau of gold to Malicorne. "But this money, Louise--this money?" "You shall know all presently; don't be uneasy. Come and comfort dear mother." "No, not now!" exclaimed Morel, placing himself before the door, remembering that Louise was still in ignorance of the death of the little girl; "wait, I must speak to you. Now, about this money?" "Stay!" said Malicorne, as he finished counting the gold, and while putting it in his pocket; "sixty-four, sixty-five--that will just make thirteen hundred francs. Have you no more than that, my little dear?" "Why, you only owe thirteen hundred francs?" said Louise, addressing her father, with a stupefied air. "Yes," said the lapidary. "Stop!" rejoined the catchpole; "the bill is for thirteen hundred francs. Well, the bill is paid; but the expenses? Without the execution, they are already eleven hundred and forty francs." [Footnote: We append some curious facts about imprisonment for debt, taken from "_Le Pauvre Jacques_," a paper published by the Society of Christian Morality Prison Committee:--