The German interrupted him. "De Courval, may I not help you, to whom I owe a debt which can never be paid?"
"Oh, no, no. I shall soon have more wages." He grew red as he spoke.
"But why is money such a wonder thing that only some saleable article shall count against it? I lack hospitality to entertain the thought."
"Would you take it of me?"
"I? Yes. I took my life of you—a poor thing, but mine own."
"I think you had small choice in the matter," laughed René.
"Der Teufel! Very little. Let it be a loan, if you will. Come, now. You make me unhappy. I lend you five hundred livres—a hundred dollars we call it here. You pay, when you can."
De Courval hesitated. Was there not something ignoble in refusing a kindness thus offered? Schmidt laughed as he added: "Reverse it. Put it in this fashion: good master of my fate, let me drown. I would owe no coin of life to any. To end it, I put to-night in this left-hand drawer money. Use it freely. Leave a receipt each time, if you like."
"I am so little used to kindness," said De Courval, wavering.