Pantagruel had conceived a great affection for the wandering scholar, and he took him home and set a great store of food before him.  Panurge ate right on until the evening, went to bed as soon as he finished, slept till dinner time next day, so that he only made three steps and a jump from bed to table.  Panurge was of a middle height, and had a nose like that of the handle of a razor.  He was a very gallant and proper man in his person, and the greatest thief, drinker, roysterer, and rake in Paris.  With all that, he was the best fellow in the world, and he was always contriving some mischief or other.  Pantagruel, being pleased with him, gave him the castellany of Salmigondin, which was yearly worth 6,789,106,789 royals of certain rent; besides the uncertain revenue of cockchafers and snails, amounting one year with another to the value of 2,435,768, or 2,435,769 French crowns of Berry.  Sometimes it amounted to 1,234,554,321 seraphs, when it was a good season, and cockchafers and snails in request; but that was not every year.

The new castellan conducted himself so well and prudently than in less than fourteen days he wasted all the revenue of his castellany for three whole years.  Yet he did not throw it away in building churches and founding monasteries, but spent it in a thousand little banquets and joyful festivals, keeping open house for all good fellows and pretty girls who came that way.

Pantagruel being advertised of the affair was in no wise offended.  He only took Panurge aside, and sweetly represented to him that if he continued to live in this manner it would be difficult at any time to make him rich.

“Rich?” answered Panurge.  “Have you undertaken the impossible task to make me rich?  Be prudent, like me, and borrow money beforehand, for you never know how things will turn out.”

“But,” said Pantagruel, “when will you be out of debt?”

“The Lord forbid I should ever be out of debt,” replied Panurge.  “Are you indebted to somebody?  He will pray night and morning that your life may be blessed, long and prosperous.  Fearing to lose his debt, he will always speak good of you in every company; moreover, he will continually get new creditors for you, in the hope, that, through them, you will be able to pay him.”

To this Pantagruel answering nothing.  Panurge went on with his discourse, saying:  “To think that you should run full tilt at me and twit me with my debts and creditors!  In this one thing only do I esteem myself worshipful, reverend, and formidable.  I have created something out of nothing—­a line of fair and jolly creditors!  Imagine how glad I am when I see myself, every morning, surrounded by them, humble, fawning, and full of reverence.  You ask me when I will be out of debt.  May the good Saint Babolin snatch me, if I have not always held that debt was the connection and tie between the heavens and the earth; the only bond of union of the human race; without it the whole progeny of