“The dealer wouldn’t trust me with anything; he’s waiting at the door.” “All right, you will be able to pay him. They’re not false, of course?” “No, they’re genuine stones.” “How much does he want for them?” “Eight hundred francs.” “Call it two thousand.” Monsieur Poterne took a pasteboard box from his pocket, containing a very pretty, flat watch, a gold chain, which looked very light but was of beautiful workmanship, and a diamond pin. Chérubin uttered a cry of admiration when he saw the baubles. “These, monsieur le marquis, are the finest and most stylish things to be had,” said Poterne, passing the chain about the young man’s neck, and doing his utmost to assume an honest expression. “Yes, they’re in the latest style,” said Daréna. “My dear Chérubin, you must have these things; a well-dressed man cannot do without them. I have several chains myself; they are all broken just now, but I am having them mended.” “Oh! I will buy all these jewels,” cried Chérubin. “Who would believe that there was a watch inside of this? What a pretty pin!--How much for them all, monsieur?” Observing the young man’s enthusiasm over the jewels, Poterne thought that he might add a little more to the price. “Twenty-five hundred francs in all,” he said. Daréna turned his face away and bit his lips, while Chérubin ran to his cash drawer. At sight of that drawer filled with gold pieces, Monsieur Poterne turned blue, his brow became wrinkled, his eyes increased in size and his nose shrunk. Daréna, observing his excitement, took advantage of the fact that Chérubin’s back was turned to administer a kick to his friend, muttering: “I trust, you villain, that you have no detestable intentions; if I thought that you had, I would break every bone in your body.” Poterne had no time to reply; he rubbed that portion of his anatomy which had been attacked, received the amount which Chérubin counted out to him in gold, and hastily took his leave. But he had hardly passed through the bedroom door when Daréna ran after him, saying: “Excuse me, my young friend, I will return in a moment; I forgot to give my steward an important order.” Hurrying after Poterne, who seemed anxious to avoid being overtaken, Daréna caught him on the stairs and seized him by his coat collar. “Don’t go so fast,” he said; “you’re in a great hurry, you old scoundrel. Come, give me two thousand francs, in a hurry.” “Two thousand francs!” muttered Poterne; “why, I’ve got to give eight hundred to the jeweler, who is waiting downstairs.” “You can give him five hundred; he will be satisfied to wait for the rest.” “But I----” “I’ll break you into six pieces, if you argue. Come, Poterne, be decent! You know that when I am in funds, you never lack anything.”