"I have resources."
"None available, at least. Your furniture, your horses, no longer belong to you, as you may say; which to me has the appearance of fraud."
"You are very hard, sir. But admitting this, will I not turn everything into money, in a situation so desperate? Only as it is impossible for me to procure between this and to-morrow one hundred thousand francs, I conjure you, employ this money to withdraw this unhappy draught. Or you, who are so rich, make me an advance; do not leave me in such a position."
"I make myself responsible for a hundred thousand francs for you!
Really, are you a fool?"
"Sir, I supplicate you, in the name of my father, of whom you have spoken, be so kind as to—"
"I am kind for those who deserve it," said the notary, rudely; "an honest man; I hate sharpers; and I should not be sorry to see one of you fine gentlemen, who are without law or gospel, impious and debauched, some fine day, standing in the pillory as an example for others. But, I hear, your horses are very restless, sir viscount," said the notary, smiling, and showing his black teeth.
At this moment some one knocked at the door. "Who is it?" asked
Jacques Ferrand.
"Her ladyship the Countess d'Orbigny," said the clerk.
"Beg her to wait a moment."
"It is the step-mother of the Marquise d'Harville," cried Saint Remy.