You're ashamed to take it as a gift, aren't you." "Yes, I am." "Well, I'm not going to make you a gift.

Borrow twelve hundred livres from me.

For how long do you want the money ?" "I really don't know how soon I can repay you." "Let's say a year, and reckon the interest.

Sit down there, you baby, and write out a promissory note." Maitre Quennebert made some further show of resistance, but at last yielded to the widow's importunity.

It is needless to say that the whole thing was a comedy on his part, except that he really needed the money.
But he did not need it to replace a sum of which a faithless friend had robbed him, but to satisfy his own creditors, who, out of all patience with him, were threatening to sue him, and his only reason for seeking out Madame de Rapally was to take advantage of her generous disposition towards himself.