“He won’t pay you.”
“Bertrand, you must look into the condition of my cash-box and see how much I have left.”
“That won’t take long, lieutenant.”
Bertrand walked sadly toward the desk; then returned and presented with a sigh a statement of their finances.
“Eighteen thousand six hundred and forty francs,” said Auguste, reading the total; “Gad! I didn’t think that I was still so rich as this.”
“I haven’t counted the marquis’s hundred louis, nor what several of your friends owe you.”
“I am inclined to think that that is wise. But I must know what I owe also; send to my tailor and boot-maker and harness-maker, and pay their bills. When I was rich I could afford to owe; but when one’s money is gone, one should not think of running into debt.”
“You speak like the great Turenne, lieutenant. All the bills shall be paid to-morrow.”
After the bills were paid, Auguste possessed sixteen thousand four hundred francs.
“Add to that our handsome furniture and the wine in the cellar, and by leading an orderly, economical life, you can wait to see what will turn up,” Bertrand observed.