Camille began to draw out the five thousand francs from his portemonnaie. "How prompt you are!" remarked Samuel. "The portrait has not only a value as a work of art; I am sure you attach a sentimental value to it, for I suspect you of being over head and ears in love with the original." "I find you too greedy," replied Camille, casting on him a crushing glance. "Do not be angry. I am accustomed to exercise methodical precision in business affairs. My father always sold at a fixed price, and I too never lower my charges. You will readily understand that what is worth five thousand francs to a friend is worth double to a lover. The gem is worth ten thousand francs. You can take it or leave it." "I will take it," replied M. Langis. "Since we agree," continued Samuel, "I possess still other articles which might suit you." "Why, do you think of selling me your clothing?" "Let us come to an understanding. I have other articles of the same lot." And he brought from a closet the red hood, which he spread out on the table. "Here is an article of clothing--to use your own words--that may be of interest to you. Its color is beautiful; if you saw it in the sunshine, it would dazzle you. I grant that the stuff is common--it is very ordinary cashmere--but if you deign to examine it closely, you will be struck by the peculiar perfume that it exhales. The Italians call it '_l'odor femminino_.'" "And what is your rate of charge for the '_odor femminino_'?" "I will be moderate. I will let you have this article and its perfume for five thousand francs. It is actually giving it away." "Assuredly. We will say ten and five--that makes fifteen thousand." "One moment. You can pay for all together. I have other things to offer you.--One would say that the floor burned your feet, and that you could not endure being in this room." "I allow that I long to leave this--what shall I say?--this shop, lair, or den." "You are young, monsieur: it never does to hurry; haste causes us acts of forgetfulness which we afterward regret. You would be very sorry not to take away with you these two scraps of paper." At these words he drew from his note-book two letters, which he unfolded. "Is there much more?" demanded Camille. "I fear that I shall become short of funds, and be obliged to go back for more." "Ah, these two letters! I will not part with them for a trifle; the second especially. It is only twelve lines in length; but what pretty English handwriting! Only see! and the style is loving and tender. I will add that it is signed. Ah, monsieur, Mademoiselle Moriaz will be charmed to see these scrawls again. Under what obligations will she be to you! You will make the most of it; you will tell her that you wrested them from me, your dagger at my throat--that you terrified me. With what a gracious smile she will reward your heroism! According to my opinion that smile is as well worth ten thousand francs as the medallion--the two gems are of equal value."