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Monsieur
Lantin had met the young girl at a reception at the house of the second head of
his department, and had fallen head over heels in love with her.
She was the daughter of a provincial tax collector,
who had been dead several years. She and her mother came to live in Paris, where the latter,
who made the acquaintance of some of the families in her neighborhood, hoped to
find a husband for her daughter.
They had very moderate means, and were honorable,
gentle, and quiet.
The young girl was a perfect type of the virtuous
woman in whose hands every sensible young man dreams of one day intrusting his
happiness. Her simple beauty had the charm of angelic modesty, and the
imperceptible smile which constantly hovered about the lips seemed to be the
reflection of a pure and lovely soul. Her praises resounded on every side.
People never tired of repeating: "Happy the man who wins her love! He
could not find a better wife."
Monsieur Lantin, then chief clerk in the
Department of the Interior, enjoyed a snug little salary of three thousand five
hundred francs, and he proposed to this model young girl, and was accepted.
He found fault with only two of her tastes: Her
love for the theatre, and her taste for imitation jewelry. Her friends (the
wives of some petty officials) frequently procured for her a box at the
theatre, often for the first representations of the new plays; and her husband
was obliged to accompany her, whether he wished it or not, to these
entertainments which bored him excessively after his day's work at the office.
After a time, Monsieur Lantin begged his wife to
request some lady of her acquaintance to accompany her, and to bring her home
after the theatre. She opposed this arrangement, at first; but, after much
persuasion, finally consented, to the infinite delight of her husband.
Now, with her love for the theatre, came also the
desire for ornaments. Her costumes remained as before, simple, in good taste,
and always modest; but she soon began to adorn her ears with huge rhinestones,
which glittered and sparkled like real diamonds. Around her neck she wore
strings of false pearls, on her arms bracelets of imitation gold, and combs set
with glass jewels.
Her husband frequently remonstrated with her,
saying:
"My dear, as you cannot afford to buy real
jewelry, you ought to appear adorned with your beauty and modesty alone, which
are the rarest ornaments of your sex."
But she would smile sweetly, and say:
"What can I do? I am so fond of jewelry. It
is my only weakness. We cannot change our nature."
Then she would wind the pearl necklace round her
fingers, make the facets of the crystal gems sparkle, and say:
"Look! are they not lovely? One would swear
they were real."
Monsieur Lantin would then answer, smilingly:
"You have bohemian tastes, my dear."
Sometimes, of an evening, when they were enjoying
a tete-a-tote by the fireside, she would place on the tea table the morocco
leather box containing the "trash," as Monsieur Lantin called it. She
would examine the false gems with a passionate attention, as though they
imparted some deep and secret joy; and she often persisted in passing a necklace
around her husband's neck, and, laughing heartily, would exclaim: "How
droll you look!" Then she would throw herself into his arms, and kiss him
affectionately.
One evening, in winter, she had been to the
opera, and returned home chilled through and through. The next morning she
coughed, and eight days later she died of inflammation of the lungs.
Monsieur Lantin's despair was so great that his
hair became white in one month. He wept unceasingly; his heart was broken as he
remembered her smile, her voice, every charm of his dead wife.
Time did not assuage his grief. Often, during
office hours, while his colleagues were discussing the topics of the day, his
eyes would suddenly fill with tears, and he would give vent to his grief in
heartrending sobs. Everything in his wife's room remained as it was during her
lifetime; all her furniture, even her clothing, being left as it was on the day
of her death. Here he was wont to seclude himself daily and think of her who
had been his treasure-the joy of his existence.
But life soon became a struggle. His income,
which, in the hands of his wife, covered all household expenses, was now no
longer sufficient for his own immediate wants; and he wondered how she could
have managed to buy such excellent wine and the rare delicacies which he could
no longer procure with his modest resources.
He incurred some debts, and was soon reduced to
absolute poverty. One morning, finding himself without a cent in his pocket, he
resolved to sell something, and immediately the thought occurred to him of
disposing of his wife's paste jewels, for he cherished in his heart a sort of
rancor against these "deceptions," which had always irritated him in
the past. The very sight of them spoiled, somewhat, the memory of his lost darling.
To the last days of her life she had continued to
make purchases, bringing home new gems almost every evening, and he turned them
over some time before finally deciding to sell the heavy necklace, which she
seemed to prefer, and which, he thought, ought to be worth about six or seven
francs; for it was of very fine workmanship, though only imitation.
He put it in his pocket, and started out in
search of what seemed a reliable jeweler's shop. At length he found one, and
went in, feeling a little ashamed to expose his misery, and also to offer such
a worthless article for sale.
"Sir," said he to the merchant, "I
would like to know what this is worth."
The man took the necklace, examined it, called
his clerk, and made some remarks in an undertone; he then put the ornament back
on the counter, and looked at it from a distance to judge of the effect.
Monsieur Lantin, annoyed at all these ceremonies,
was on the point of saying: "Oh! I know well 'enough it is not worth
anything," when the jeweler said: "Sir, that necklace is worth from
twelve to fifteen thousand francs; but I could not buy it, unless you can tell
me exactly where it came from."
The widower opened his eyes wide and remained
gaping, not comprehending the merchant's meaning. Finally he stammered:
"You say--are you sure?" The other replied, drily: "You can try
elsewhere and see if any one will offer you more. I consider it worth fifteen
thousand at the most. Come back; here, if you cannot do better."
Monsieur Lantin, beside himself with
astonishment, took up the necklace and left the store. He wished time for
reflection.
Once outside, he felt inclined to laugh, and said
to himself: "The fool! Oh, the fool! Had I only taken him at his word!
That jeweler cannot distinguish real diamonds from the imitation article."
A few minutes after, he entered another store, in
the Rue de la Paix. As soon as the proprietor glanced at the necklace, he cried
out:
"Ah, parbleu! I know it well; it was bought
here."
Monsieur Lantin, greatly disturbed, asked:
"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 came to be in your possession."
This time, Monsieur Lantin was dumfounded. He
replied:
"But--but--examine it well. Until this
moment I was under the impression that it was imitation."
The jeweler asked:
"What is your name, sir?"
"Lantin--I am in the employ of the Minister
of the Interior. I live at number sixteen Rue des Martyrs."
The merchant looked through his books, found the
entry, and said: "That necklace was sent to Madame Lantin's address,
sixteen 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.
"Will you leave this necklace here for
twenty-four hours?" said he; "I will give you a receipt."
Monsieur Lantin answered hastily: "Yes,
certainly." 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
jewels must have been presents, too! The earth seemed to tremble beneath
him--the tree before him to be falling; he threw up his arms, and fell to the
ground, unconscious. He recovered his senses in a pharmacy, into which the
passers-by had borne him. He asked to be taken home, and, when he reached the
house, he shut himself up in his room, and wept until nightfall. Finally,
overcome with fatigue, he went to bed and fell into a heavy sleep.
The sun awoke him next morning, and he began to
dress slowly to go to the office. It was hard to work after such shocks. 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. He dressed and went out.
It was a lovely day; a clear, blue sky smiled on
the busy city below. Men of leisure were strolling about with their hands in
their pockets.
Monsieur Lantin, observing them, 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 perceived that he was 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 not a cent in his
pocket. He decided quickly, ran across the street, in order not to have time
for reflection, and rushed into the store.
The proprietor immediately came forward, and
politely offered him a chair; the clerks glanced at him knowingly.
"I have made inquiries, Monsieur
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 Monsieur
Lantin.
Whereupon the proprietor took from a drawer
eighteen large bills, counted, and handed them to Monsieur Lantin, who signed a
receipt; and, with 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 came from
the same source. Will you buy them, also?"
The merchant bowed: "Certainly, sir."
Monsieur Lantin said gravely: "I will bring
them to you." An hour later, he returned with the gems.
The large diamond earrings were worth twenty
thousand francs; the bracelets, thirty-five thousand; the rings, sixteen
thousand; a set of emeralds and sapphires, fourteen thousand; a gold chain with
solitaire pendant, forty thousand--making the sum of one hundred and
forty-three thousand francs.
The jeweler remarked, jokingly:
"There was a person who invested all her
savings in precious stones."
Monsieur Lantin replied, seriously:
"It is only another way of investing one's
money."
That day he lunched at Voisin's, and drank wine
worth twenty francs a bottle. Then he hired a carriage and made a tour of the
Bois. He gazed at the various turnouts with a kind of disdain, and could hardly
refrain from crying out to the occupants:
"I, too, am rich!--I am worth two hundred
thousand francs."
Suddenly he thought of his employer. He drove up
to the bureau, and entered gaily, saying:
"Sir, I have come to resign my position. I
have just inherited three hundred thousand francs."
He shook hands with his former colleagues, and
confided to them some of his projects for the future; he then went off to dine
at the Cafe Anglais.
He seated himself beside a gentleman of
aristocratic bearing; and, during the meal, informed the latter confidentially
that he had just inherited a fortune of four hundred thousand francs.
For the first time in his life, he was not bored
at the theatre, and spent the remainder of the night in a gay frolic.
Six months afterward, he married again. His second
wife was a very virtuous woman; but had a violent temper. She caused him much
sorrow.
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