"How much is it worth?"
"Well, I sold it for twenty thousand francs. I am willing to take it
back for eighteen thousand when you inform me, according to our legal
formality, how it comes to be in your possession."
This time M. Lantin was dumfounded. He replied:
"But--but--examine it well. Until this moment I was under the
impression that it was paste."
Said the jeweler:
"What is your name, sir?"
"Lantin--I am in the employ of the Minister of the Interior. I live at
No. 16 Rue des Martyrs."
The merchant looked through his books, found the entry, and said: "That
necklace was sent to Mme. Lantin's address, 16 Rue des Martyrs, July
20, 1876."
The two men looked into each other's eyes--the widower speechless with
astonishment, the jeweler scenting a thief. The latter broke the
silence by saying:
"Will you leave this necklace here for twenty-four hours? I will give
you a receipt."
"Certainly," answered M. Lantin, hastily. Then, putting the ticket in
his pocket, he left the store.
He wandered aimlessly through the streets, his mind in a state of
dreadful confusion. He tried to reason, to understand. His wife could
not afford to purchase such a costly ornament. Certainly not. But,
then, it must have been a present!--a present!--a present from whom?
Why was it given her?
He stopped and remained standing in the middle of the street. A
horrible doubt entered his mind--she? Then all the other gems must have
been presents, too! The earth seemed to tremble beneath him,--the tree
before him was falling--throwing up his arms, he fell to the ground,
unconscious. He recovered his senses in a pharmacy into which the
passers-by had taken him, and was then taken to his home. When he
arrived he shut himself up in his room and wept until nightfall.
Finally, overcome with fatigue, he threw himself on the bed, where he
passed an uneasy, restless night.
The following morning he arose and prepared to go to the office. It was
hard to work after such a shock. He sent a letter to his employer
requesting to be excused. Then he remembered that he had to return to
the jeweler's. He did not like the idea; but he could not leave the
necklace with that man. So he dressed and went out.
It was a lovely day; a clear blue sky smiled on the busy city below,
and men of leisure were strolling about with their hands in their
pockets.
Observing them, M. Lantin said to himself: "The rich, indeed, are
happy. With money it is possible to forget even the deepest sorrow. One
can go where one pleases, and in travel find that distraction which is
the surest cure for grief. Oh! if I were only rich!"
He began to feel hungry, but his pocket was empty. He again remembered
the necklace. Eighteen thousand francs! Eighteen thousand francs! What
a sum!
He soon arrived in the Rue de la Paix, opposite the jeweler's. Eighteen
thousand francs! Twenty times he resolved to go in, but shame kept him
back. He was hungry, however,--very hungry, and had not a cent in his
pocket. He decided quickly, ran across the street in order not to have
time for reflection, and entered the store.
The proprietor immediately came forward, and politely offered him a
chair; the clerks glanced at him knowingly.
"I have made inquiries, M. Lantin," said the jeweler, "and if you are
still resolved to dispose of the gems, I am ready to pay you the price
I offered."
"Certainly, sir," stammered M. Lantin.
Whereupon the proprietor took from a drawer eighteen large bills,
counted and handed them to M. Lantin, who signed a receipt and with a
trembling hand put the money into his pocket.
As he was about to leave the store, he turned toward the merchant, who
still wore the same knowing smile, and lowering his eyes, said:
"I have--I have other gems which I have received from the same source.
Will you buy them also?"