A broken, unconnected conversation followed for a little time, but at length, worn out and wearied, each dropped off to sleep—Eugène on the straw settle, and I in the old chair—never to awake till the bright sun was streaming in between the shutters, and dancing merrily on the tiled floor.
An hour before I awoke, he had completed the sale of all his little stock-in-trade, and with a last look round the spot where he had passed some months of struggling poverty, out we sailed into the town.
‘We’ll breakfast at Jonathan Hone’s,’ said Santron.
‘It’s the first place here. I’ll treat you to rump-steaks, pumpkin pie, and a gin twister that will astonish you. Then, while I’m arranging for our passage down the Hudson, you’ll see the hospitable banker, and tell him how to forward all his papers, and so forth, to the settlement, with your respectful compliments and regrets, and the rest of it.’
‘But am I to take leave of them in this fashion?’ asked I.
‘Unless you want me to accompany you there, I think it’s by far the best way,’ said he laughingly. ‘If, however, you think that my presence and companionship will add any lustre to your position, say the word, and I’m ready. I know enough of the barber’s craft now to make up a head en Puritain, and, if you wish, I’ll pledge myself to impose upon the whole colony.’
Here was a threat there was no mistaking; and any imputation of ingratitude on my part were far preferable to the thought of such an indignity. He saw his advantage at once, and boldly declared that nothing should separate us.
‘The greatest favour, my dear Maurice, you can ever expect at my hands is, never to speak of this freak of yours; or, if I do, to say that you performed the part to perfection.’
My mind was in one of those moods of change when the slightest impulse is enough to sway it, and, more from this cause, than all his persuasion, I yielded; and the same evening saw me gliding down the Hudson, and admiring the bold Catskills, on our way to New York.