millionaire. The girl did not think of her folly till she had to let out her stays. Then she confessed her weakness to her parents. They spoke to the gentleman. He boasted of his fortune, agreed to marry her, and showed his title-deeds and pedigree. Joy returned to the Loupian household. In brief, the marriage took place, and the bridegroom, who would have everything in good style, ordered for the evening a dinner of one hundred and fifty covers at the Cadran Bleu.
At the appointed time the guests assembled, but the marquis did not appear. A letter, however, arrived announcing that by order of the king the marquis had gone to the Tuileries; he begged to be excused for the delay, and requested them to dine without him; he would be back at ten o'clock. The dinner took place without the son-in-law. The bride was in a bad temper, in spite of the congratulations on her husband's distinguished position. Two courses had been dispatched. At dessert, a waiter laid a letter on the plate of each guest, informing them that the bridegroom was an escaped convict and had run away.
The consternation of M. and Mme. Loupian was terrible, but they did not see clearly into the cause of this misfortune. Four days afterward, one Sunday, while the whole family was on a trip into the country, fire broke out in nine different spots in the rooms below the café; a crowd gathered, and under pretense of assisting, stole, robbed, broke, and destroyed; the flames gained possession of the house, which was consumed. The owner sued Loupian; he was utterly ruined, and the unfortunate couple had nothing left but a small sum belonging to the wife. All their cash, all their effects and furniture had been stolen or destroyed in the disastrous fire.
The Loupian family, in consequence, were deserted by their friends; the old servant, Prosper, alone remained faithful; he would not leave them; he followed them without wages, content to share their bread. He was lauded and admired, and a modest little café was set up in the Rue Saint-Antoine. Solari became a visitor there; but one evening, on returning home, he was seized with violent pains. A doctor was summoned, who declared Solari poisoned, and, in spite of all efforts, the unfortunate man died in terrible convulsions. Twelve hours after, the bier was, according to custom, exposed at the door of the house where Solari lived, and on the black cloth that covered the coffin a paper was found, on which these two ill-omened words were inscribed by means of printed letters, Number Two.
Besides the daughter whose fate had been so unhappy, Loupian had a son. This lad, falling in with bad companions of both sexes, after a few struggles, ended by plunging into reckless dissipation. One night his comrades proposed a "racket," to break into a liquor-store, take a
