"A hundred francs."
"So that there are sixty francs left?"
"At your service, dear mother."
"I am afraid I must take them. I have two hundred francs to pay to-morrow to the warehouseman, and I only have a hundred and fifty towards it."
"Here they are ... but on one condition."
"What is it?"
"That you let me have them back again as soon as I set off for Paris."
"With whom are you going?"
"That must be my business."
"Well, so be it.... I really begin to feel as though God were with you."