'I have not got a farthing, and I cannot find one.'
'But have you no friends or relations left?'
'None—not one. I have gone bankrupt; that is enough.'
'What will you do?'
'I am going—going to Rome,' the stock-broker brought out, after a slight hesitation.
'What to do?'
'Who knows? Perhaps I shall make my fortune there.'
'But you ought not to forsake me; you, a man, must give me the eleven hundred francs before you leave.'
'I have not got it. I can't get it. Don't torment me, Don Crescenzio; I have not a farthing.'
'Give me your signature to a bill; some banker that you are acquainted with will cash it.'