Caffie emphasized the words, “my proposition,” and underlined them with a glance; but Saniel did not appear to understand.

“And the upholsterer’s summons?” he asked.

“You may be easy on that point.  I have attended to it.  Your landlord, to whom he owes rent, will interfere, and your creditor must indemnify him before going farther.  Will he submit?  We shall see.  If he does, we shall defend ourselves on some other ground.  I do not say victoriously, but in a way to gain time.”

“How much time?”

“That, my dear sir, I do not know; the whole thing depends upon our adversary.  But what do you mean by ’how much time?’—­eternity?”

“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?”