THE JEWEL-BOX
The next day after Raste’s sudden departure, Madame Jozain sat in her
doorway looking very old and worn; her face was of a settled pallor,
and her eyes had a dazed, bewildered expression, as if she had received
a heavy blow that had left her numb and stupid. At times she put her
hand to her head and muttered, “Who would have thought it? Who would
have thought it? His mother, his own mother, and I’ve always been so
good to him.”
Suddenly she seemed to have lost her interest in her business, her
customers, and even her domestic affairs. Her little store was more
untidy than any one had ever seen it. When a neighbor entered to buy a
trifle, or to gossip for a few moments, madame made an effort to appear
cheerful and chatty, but that it was an effort was evident to all. At
last some one asked if she were ill.
“Well, not exactly,” she answered uneasily, “but I might as well be.
The fact is I’m fretting about that boy of mine; he took it in his head
yesterday to go away to his uncle’s ranch. I miss him very much. I
can’t get along without him, and I shouldn’t wonder if I should go too.”
When Pepsie asked what was the matter with “Tante Pauline,” Lady Jane
answered, as she had been instructed, that Tante Pauline had headaches,
because Mr. Raste had gone away and wasn’t coming home for a long time.
“Madame Jozain is fretting about her son’s going away,” observed Madame
Fernandez to her husband, looking across the street. “She’s been
sitting there all the morning so lonesome and miserable that I’m sorry
for her. But there’s some one coming to see her now. A stranger, and so
well-dressed. I wonder who it can be.”
The new-comer was a stranger to Madame Fernandez, but Madame Jozain
welcomed her as an old friend; she sprang up with sudden animation and
shook hands warmly.
“Why, Madame Hortense,” she exclaimed, “what chance brings you to my
little place?”
“A happy chance for you,” replied Madame Hortense, laughing. “I’ve come
to bring you money. I’ve sold the little jewel-case you left with me
the other day, and sold it very well, too.”
“Now, did you? How good of you, my dear! I’m so glad—for the child’s
sake.”
“Would you believe that I got twenty-five dollars for it? You know you
said I might sell it for ten; but I got twenty-five, and I think I
could have sold it for more easily. It is solid silver and an exquisite
thing.”
“Yes, it was of the best workmanship,” sighed madame.
“But I must tell you how I happened to sell it for such a high price.
It’s very strange, and perhaps you can throw some light on the matter.
One of my best customers happened to come in last evening—Mrs. Lanier,
of Jackson Street. You know Lanier, the banker. They are very rich
people. She was looking over the things in my show-case, when she
suddenly exclaimed as if surprised:
“Why, Madame Hortense, where did you get this?” I turned around, and
she had the little jewel-box in her hand, examining it closely, and I
saw that she was quite pale and excited.
“Of course I told her all I knew about it; that a friend had given it
to me to sell, and so on. But she interrupted me by asking where my
friend got it, and all sorts of questions; and all the while, she was
looking at it as if she couldn’t imagine how it got there. I could only
tell her that you gave it to me. Then she asked other questions, so
excitedly that I couldn’t help showing my surprise. But I couldn’t give
her the information she wanted, so I wrote your name and address for
her, and told her to come and see you, and that you would be able to
tell her all about it.”
During Madame Hortense’s hasty and rather confused narrative Madame
Jozain turned an ashy white; and her eyes took on a hunted expression,
while she followed with a set, ghastly smile every word of her friend’s
story.
At length she found strength and composure to say:
“Why, no wonder you were surprised. Didn’t she tell you why she wanted
to know?”
“I suppose she saw that I was very much puzzled, for after looking at
it sadly for some time, she said that it was a mystery how it came
there; that she had given that little casket to a schoolmate ten
years before, while at school in New York; that she had had it made
especially for her, and that her friend’s initials, J. C., were on it.”
“Dear, dear, only think! Some old schoolmate, I suppose,” said Madame
Jozain hastily.
“Then she asked me if I would sell her the little box; and I said
certainly I would, that it was put there to sell. Seeing how anxious
she was to get it, I thought I would put the price at twenty-five
dollars, although I didn’t much think she’d give it. But she never said
a word about the price; she paid it in a dazed way, took your address
that I’d written for her, and went out, carrying the little casket with
her. I suppose she’ll be here to-day or to-morrow to see you; and so I
thought I’d hurry down and tell you all about it.”
“And your commission?” said Madame Jozain, with a visible effort, as
the milliner laid the money on the table.
“Oh, _par exemple_, Madame Jozain! As if I would! No, no; we’re too old
friends. I cannot take pay for doing you a little favor. And besides,
I’m glad to do it for the dear child. She must be a great anxiety to
you.”
“She is!” returned madame, with a heavy sigh, “but she has some
property in Texas, I believe. My son has just gone there, and I’m
thinking of going too. I’m very lonely here.”
“Ah!” said Madame Hortense, surprised. “Why, you are so well placed
here. Shall you go soon?”
“Before very long,” replied madame, who did not care to be more
definite.
“Well, come and see me before you go.”
Madame Hortense drew down her veil, and rose to leave. “I’m sorry I
can’t stay longer to chat with you; I’m busy, very busy. Now mind,
be sure to come and say good-by,” and with a cordial _au revoir_ the
little milliner hurried down the steps and out of sight around the
corner.
For some time after her visitor had gone, Madame Jozain stood quite
still in the middle of her little shop, with her hands pressed to her
head and her eyes fixed on vacancy. At length she muttered to herself:
“She’ll come here; yes, she’ll come here! I can’t see her; I can’t
tell her where I got that box. I must get away at once. I must go out
and find another place. There’ll be no more peace on earth for me! My
punishment’s begun!”
Then madame hurriedly put on her best gown and bonnet, and calling
across to Lady Jane, who was with Pepsie, she said she was going out on
business, and that she might not be back for some time.