“You no want money, Herr von Dalton!” exclaimed the other, in amazement. “You no want money! you draw eight hundred florin on Tuesday; you have four hundred on Wednesday evening, and seven rouleaux of Napoleons; on Saturday again I send you twenty thousand franc!”
“All true,—every word of it,” said Dalton; “but there's no use telling a hungry man about the elegant dinner he ate last week! The short of the matter is, I want cash now.”
Kraus appeared to reflect for a few minutes, and then said, “If a leetle sum will do—”
“Faix! it will not. I want five hundred Naps., at the very least.”
Kraus threw down his pen, and stared at him without speaking.
“One would think from your face, Abel, that I was asking for a loan of the National Debt. I said five hundred Naps.!”
Abel shook his head mournfully, and merely muttered “Ja! ja!” to himself. “We will look over de account, Herr von Dalton,” said he, at last; “perhaps I am wrong, I no say, I am sure; but I tink—dat is, I believe—you overdraw very much your credit.”
“Well, supposing I did; is it the first time?” said Dalton, angrily. “Ain't I as good a man now as I was before?”
“You are a very goot man, I know well; a very goot and a very pleasant man; but you know de old German proverb, 'Das Gut ist nicht Gelt.'”
“I never heard it till now,” muttered Peter, sulkily; “but if a robber in this country put a pistol to your head, he 'd be sure to have a proverb to justify him! But to come to the point,——can I have the money?”