They had one purse in common,—that is to say, they starved together.
Brissac's active mind was never at a loss; every day brought forth some new scheme, for restoring their broken fortunes.
"I say, Raymond," exclaimed Brissac, one morning, awakening his comrade; "I've got an idea! In a few days we shall be rolling in wealth. It only requires a couple of thousand francs (£80), no more; and this is what we must do to procure that sum.
"I am acquainted with an old money-lender, named Robineau; a sly, suspicious old fellow, and such a rogue, that an escaped convict would blush before him. He shall be our banker. I don't mind confessing to you that my credit with him is quite gone, so I can ask nothing for myself; but you might very well beg him to lend you the sum I named."
"No doubt I can ask for it," said Raymond, "nothing is more easy; but to obtain it, is another thing. You know these usurers always require security."
"I know that. Of coarse, you will offer security to this honest Robineau."
"You are joking."
"No, on the contrary, I am quite serious. Listen to me; you will offer Robineau a bill of exchange, and, at the same time, tell him to make all necessary inquiries about you in your native place. As no one there yet knows that you are ruined, there is no doubt, that, after making these inquiries, and satisfying himself of your respectability, he will give you what you require. We'll find means of paying him some day or other," added Brissac, by way of quieting his conscience.
Everything occurred as Brissac had predicted. In consideration of a bill for two thousand five hundred francs, at one month's date, renewable only with the consent of Père Robineau, he handed over to Raymond two bank-notes of a thousand francs each.
The friends had been so long deprived of anything like pleasure, that they determined to enjoy themselves to their hearts' content. They took care, however, to be economical, so that the money lasted them for a fortnight, at the end of which time, they were worse off than before.