"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--"

"The one who received a superior education in a fashionable convent?"

"Exactly; and I asked her what she would think of a young doctor, full of
talent, future professor of the Faculty, actually considered already a
savant of the first order, handsome--because you are handsome, my dear
sir, and it is no flattery to say this--in good health, a peasant by
birth, who presented himself as a husband. She appeared flattered, I tell
you frankly. But immediately afterward she said, 'And the child?' To
which I replied that you were too good, too noble, too generous, not to
have the indulgence of superior men, who accept an involuntary fault with
serenity. Did I go too far?"

He did not wait for an answer.

"No?" he went on. "Exactly. The child was present, for the mother watches
over it with a solicitude that promises much for the future, and I
examined it