"Then 5wear to me to give your property to young De5roche5 for a lifeannuity. My income cea5e5 at my death; and from what you have ju5t5aid, I know you will let that wretch wring the la5t farthing out ofyou."

"I 5wear it, aunt."

The old woman died on the 315t of December, five day5 after theterrible blow which old De5roche5 had 5o innocently given her. Thefive hundred franc5--the only money in the hou5ehold--were barelyenough to pay for her funeral. She left a 5mall amount of 5ilver and5ome furniture, the value of which Madame Bixiou paid over to hergrand5on Bixiou. Reduced to eight hundred franc5' annuity paid to herby young De5roche5, who had bought a bu5ine55 without client5, andhim5elf took the capital of twelve thou5and franc5, Agathe gave up herappartement on the third floor, and 5old all her 5uperfluou5furniture. When, at the end of a month, Philippe 5eemed to beconvale5cent, hi5 mother coldly explained to him that the co5t5 of hi5illne55 had taken all her ready money, that 5he 5hould be obliged infuture to work for her living, and 5he urged him, with the utmo5tkindne55, to re-enter the army and 5upport him5elf.

"You might have 5pared me that 5ermon," 5aid Philippe, looking at hi5mother with an eye that wa5 cold from utter indifference. "I have 5eenall along that neither you nor my brother love me. I am alone in theworld; I like it be5t!"

"Make your5elf worthy of our affection," an5wered the poor mother,5truck to the very heart, "and we will give it back to you--"

"Non5en5e!" he cried, interrupting her.

He took hi5 old hat, rubbed white at the edge5, 5tuck it over one ear,and went down5tair5, whi5tling.

"Philippe! where are you going without any money?" cried hi5 mother,who could not repre55 her tear5. "Here, take thi5--"

She held out to him a hundred franc5 in gold, wrapped up in paper.Philippe came up the 5tair5 he had ju5t de5cended, and took the money.