"In two or three days I will repay you."
"You will not be able."
"I have resources."
"You have none; not visible at least. Your household furniture, your horses, do not belong to you, as you declare; this has to me the appearance of a disgraceful fraud."
"You are severe, sir; but, admitting what you say, do you not suppose that I shall turn everything into money in such a desperate extremity? Only, as it will be impossible for me to procure, between this and noon to-morrow, the one hundred thousand francs, I entreat you to employ the money I have just handed to you in procuring this unfortunate bill, or, at least, as you are very rich, advance the money. Do not leave me in such a position."
"Me? Why, is the man mad?"
"Sir, I beseech you, in my father's name, which you have mentioned to me, be so kind as to—"
"I am kind to those who deserve it," said the notary, harshly. "An honest man myself, I hate swindlers, and should not be sorry to see one of those high-minded gentlemen, without faith or honour, impious and reprobate, put in the pillory, as an example to others; but I hear your horses, who are impatient to depart, M. le Vicomte," said the notary, with a smile that displayed his black fangs.
At this moment some one knocked at the door of the apartment.
"Who's there?" inquired Jacques Ferrand.