Part 33 (1/2)
Dr. Cheron coughed preparatorily.
”It is some time,” said he, ”since you have given me any news of your father. Do you often hear from him?”
”Not very often, sir,” I replied. ”About once in every three weeks. He dislikes letter-writing.”
Dr. Cheron took a packet of papers from his breast-pocket, and ruffling them over, said, somewhat indifferently:--
”Very true--very true. His notes are brief and few; but always to the purpose. I heard from him this morning.”
”Indeed, sir?”
”Yes--here is his letter. It encloses a remittance of seventy-five pounds; fifty of which are for you. The remaining twenty-five being reserved for the defrayal of your expenses at the Ecole de Medecine and the Ecole Pratique.”
I was delighted.
”Both are made payable through my banker,” continued Dr. Cheron, ”and I am to take charge of your share till you require it; which cannot be just yet, as I understand from this letter that your father supplied you with the sum of one hundred and five pounds on leaving England.”
My delight went down to zero.
”Does my father say that I am not to have it now, sir?” I asked, hesitatingly.
”He says, as I have already told you, that it is to be yours when you require it.”
”And if I require it very shortly, sir--in fact, if I require it now?”
”You ought not to require it now,” replied the Doctor, with a cold, scrutinizing stare. ”You ought not to have spent one hundred and five pounds in five months.”
I looked down in silence. I had more than spent it long since; and I had to thank Madame de Marignan for the facility with which it had flown. It was not to be denied that my course of lessons in practical politeness had been somewhat expensive.
”How have you spent it?” asked Dr. Cheron, never removing his eyes from my face.
I might have answered, in bouquets, opera stalls, and riding horses; in dress coats, tight boots, and white kid gloves; in new books, new music, bon-bons, cabs, perfumery, and the like inexcusable follies. But I held my tongue instead, and said nothing.
Dr. Cheron looked again at his watch.
”Have you kept any entries of your expenses since you came to Paris?”
said he.
”Not with--with any regularity, sir,” I replied.
He took out his pencil-case and pocket-book.
”Let us try, then,” said he, ”to make an average calculation of what they might be in five months.”
I began to feel very uncomfortable.
”I believe your father paid your travelling expenses?”
I bowed affirmatively.