“Here is your twenty thousand livres,” said the count.
“You confer obligations like a monarch,” said Gilbert, taking up the notes.
“Better, I trust, for I expect no return.”
“I will repay, with as many years of service as the sum is equal to.”
“But you are going away. Whither?”
“What do you say to America?”
“I shall be glad to cross the sea at two hour’ notice for any land not France.”
Balsamo had found in his papers a slip of paper on which were three signatures and the line: “For Boston from Havre, Dec. 15th, the Adonis, P. J., master.”
“Will the middle of December suit you?”
“Yes,” said Gilbert, having reckoned on his fingers.