- end_line
- 1880
- extracted_at
- 2026-01-30T20:48:05.590Z
- extracted_by
- structure-extraction-lambda
- start_line
- 1808
- text
- “Well, I think I shall be able to procure you a passage.”
Israel’s eyes sparkled with delight. The mild sage noticed it, and
added: “But events in these times are uncertain. At the prospect of
pleasure never be elated; but, without depression, respect the omens of
ill. So much my life has taught me, my honest friend.”
Israel felt as though a plum-pudding had been thrust under his
nostrils, and then as rapidly withdrawn.
“I think it is probable that in two or three days I shall want you to
return with some papers to the persons who sent you to me. In that case
you will have to come here once more, and then, my good friend, we will
see what can be done towards getting you safely home again.”
Israel was pouring out torrents of thanks when the Doctor interrupted
him.
“Gratitude, my friend, cannot be too much towards God, but towards man,
it should be limited. No man can possibly so serve his fellow, as to
merit unbounded gratitude. Over gratitude in the helped person, is apt
to breed vanity or arrogance in the helping one. Now in assisting you
to get home—if indeed I shall prove able to do so—I shall be simply
doing part of my official duty as agent of our common country. So you
owe me just nothing at all, but the sum of these coins I put in your
hand just now. But that, instead of repaying to me hereafter, you can,
when you get home, give to the first soldier’s widow you meet. Don’t
forget it, for it is a debt, a pecuniary liability, owing to me. It
will be about a quarter of a dollar, in the Yankee currency. A quarter
of a dollar, mind. My honest friend, in pecuniary matters always be
exact as a second-hand; never mind with whom it is, father or stranger,
peasant or king, be exact to a tick of your honor.”
“Well, Doctor,” said Israel, “since exactness in these matters is so
necessary, let me pay back my debt in the very coins in which it was
loaned. There will be no chance of mistake then. Thanks to my Brentford
friends, I have enough to spare of my own, to settle damages with the
boot-black of the bridge. I only took the money from you, because I
thought it would not look well to push it back after being so kindly
offered.”
“My honest friend,” said the Doctor, “I like your straightforward
dealing. I will receive back the money.”
“No interest, Doctor, I hope,” said Israel.
The sage looked mildly over his spectacles upon Israel and replied: “My
good friend, never permit yourself to be jocose upon pecuniary matters.
Never joke at funerals, or during business transactions. The affair
between us two, you perhaps deem very trivial, but trifles may involve
momentous principles. But no more at present. You had better go
immediately and find the boot-black. Having settled with him, return
hither, and you will find a room ready for you near this, where you
will stay during your sojourn in Paris.”
“But I thought I would like to have a little look round the town,
before I go back to England,” said Israel.
“Business before pleasure, my friend. You must absolutely remain in
your room, just as if you were my prisoner, until you quit Paris for
Calais. Not knowing now at what instant I shall want you to start, your
keeping to your room is indispensable. But when you come back from
Brentford again, then, if nothing happens, you will have a chance to
survey this celebrated capital ere taking ship for America. Now go
directly, and pay the boot-black. Stop, have you the exact change
ready? Don’t be taking out all your money in the open street.”
“Doctor,” said Israel, “I am not so simple.”
“But you knocked over the box.”
“That, Doctor, was bravery.”
- title
- Chunk 3