"In that case what will you do?"

This was a terrible question, and one for which I could find no answer.

"Write to your father for another remittance--eh?"

"I--upon my word, I dare not, sir," I faltered.

"Then you would go in debt again?"

"I really fear--even with the strictest economy--I--"

"Be so obliging as to let me have your seat," said Dr. Chéron, thrusting
the obnoxious note-book into his pocket and taking my place at the desk,
from which he brought out a couple of cards, and a printed paper.

"This ticket," said he, "admits the holder to the anatomical course for
the term now beginning, and this to the lectures at the Ecole Pratique.
Both are in my gift. The first is worth two hundred francs, and the
second two hundred and fifty. I ought, perhaps, in strict justice, to
bestow them upon some needy and deserving individual: however, to save
you from debt, or a very unpleasant alternative, I will fill them in
with your name, and, when you bring me all your bills receipted, I will
transfer to your account the four hundred and fifty francs which I must,
otherwise, have paid for your courses out of the remittance forwarded by
your father for that purpose. Understand, however, that I must first
have the receipts, and that I expect you, on the word of a gentleman,
to commit no more follies, and to contract no more debts."

"Oh, sir!" I exclaimed, "how can I ever--"