“I mean until April.”
“That is eternity. Do you believe that you will be able to free yourself in April? If you have expectations founded on something substantial, you should tell me what they are, my dear sir.”
This question was put with such an air of benevolence, that Saniel was taken in by it.
“I have no guarantee,” he said. “But, on the other hand, it is of the utmost importance to me that I should have this length of time. As I have explained to you, I am about to pass two examinations; they will last three months, and in March, or, at the latest, in April, I shall be a physician of the hospitals, and fellow of the Faculty. In that case I should then offer a surface to the lenders, that would permit you, without doubt, to find the sum necessary to pay Jardine, whatever expenses there may be, and your fee.”
As he spoke, Saniel saw that he was wrong in thus committing himself, but he continued to the end.
“I should be unworthy of your confidence, my dear sir,” Caffie replied, “if I encouraged you with the idea that we could gain so much time. Whatever it costs me—and it costs me much, I assure you—I must tell you that it is impossible, radically impossible; a few days, yes, or a few weeks, but that is all.”
“Well, obtain a few weeks,” Saniel said, rising, “that will be something.”
“And afterward?”
“We shall see.”
“My dear sir, do not go. You would not believe how much I am touched by your position; I think only of you. When I learned that I could not find the sum you desire, I paid a friendly visit to my young client of whom I spoke to you—”