Schaunard had carried the art of borrowing to the perfection of a
science. Foreseeing the possible necessity of having to _spoil the
foreigners_, he had learned how to ask for five francs in every language
of the world. He had thoroughly studied all the stratagems which specie
employs to escape those who are hunting for it, and knew, better than a
pilot knows the hours of the tide, at what periods it was high or low
water; that is to say, on what days his friends and acquaintances were
accustomed to be in funds. Accordingly, there were houses where his
appearance of a morning made people say, not "Here is Monsieur
Schaunard," but "This is the first or the fifteenth." To facilitate, and
at the same time equalize this species of tax which he was going to
levy, when compelled by necessity, from those who were able to pay it to
him, Schaunard had drawn up by districts and streets an alphabetical
table containing the names of all his acquaintances. Opposite each name
was inscribed the maximum of the sum which the party's finances
authorized the artist to borrow of him, the time when he was flush, and
his dinner hour, as well as his usual bill of fare. Beside this table,
he kept a book, in perfect order, on which he entered the sums lent him,
down to the smallest fraction; for he would never burden himself beyond
a certain amount which was within the fortune of a country relative,
whose heir-apparent he was. As soon as he owed one person twenty francs,
he closed the account and paid him off, even if obliged to borrow for
the purpose of those to whom he owed less. In this way he always kept up
a certain credit which he called his floating debt, and as people knew
that he was accustomed to repay as soon as his means permitted him,
those who could accommodate him were very ready to do so.

But on the present occasion, from eleven in the morning, when he had
started to try and collect the seventy-five francs requisite, up to six