The robber chiefs and their followers had no sooner departed, than Chardin again repaired to the garden, and was sorrowfully prying about the thickets where he had concealed his jewels, when a man cast his arms about his neck, and threw him into more violent terror than ever. He had no doubt it was a Mingrelian, who was about to cut his throat. The next moment, however, he recognised the voice of his faithful Armenian valet, who, in accents broken by sobs, and with eyes overflowing with tears, exclaimed, “Ah, sir, we are ruined!” Chardin, strongly moved by this proof of his affection, bade him restrain his tears. “But, sir,” said he, “have you searched the place carefully?”—“So carefully,” replied the traveller, “that I am convinced all further search would be so much labour lost.” This did not satisfy the Armenian. He wished to be informed exactly respecting the spot where the traveller had thrown the jewels; the manner in which he had cast them into the thicket; and the way in which he had sought for them. To oblige him, Chardin did what he desired, but was so thoroughly persuaded that all further search was useless, that he refused to remain upon the spot, and went away, overwhelmed with grief and vexation. How long he remained in this state of stupefaction he could not tell; he was roused from it, however, by the presence of the Armenian, who, approaching him in the dark, for it was now night, once more threw himself about his neck, and thrust the two packets of jewels into his bosom.