M. Pascal, continuing his perusal of the paper, threw a glance by stealth at the prince, and replied after a few moments, in a more satisfied tone:
"This is a sure, incontestable security."
Then, as the prince seemed to regain hope, he added:
"Unfortunately, this security is apart from—"
He did not finish, but continued his reading in silence.
Never a solicitor in distress imploring a haughty and unfeeling protector, never a despairing borrower humbly addressing a dishonest and whimsical usurer, never accused seeking to read his pardon or condemnation in the countenance of his judge, experienced the torture felt by the prince while M. Pascal was reading the note which he had examined and which he now laid on the table.
"Well, monsieur," said the prince, swallowing his impatience, "what do you decide?"
"Monseigneur, will you have the kindness to lend me a pen and some paper?"
The prince pushed an inkstand, a pen, and some paper before M. Pascal, who began a long series of figures, sometimes lifting his eyes to the ceiling, as if to make a calculation in his head, sometimes muttering incomplete sentences, such as—
"No—I am mistaken because—but I was about to forget—it is evident—the balance will be equal if—"