“Monsieur, to one louis, with refreshments and the charge
for the horse.”
“Very well, and that of to-day?”
“Ah! there is the difficulty. This is the day of the king’s
arrival; if the court comes to sleep here, the charge of the
day is reckoned. From that it results that three chambers,
at two louis each, makes six louis. Two louis, monsieur, are
not much; but six louis make a great deal.”
The unknown, from red, as we have seen him, became very
pale.
He drew from his pocket, with heroic bravery, a purse
embroidered with a coat-of-arms, which he carefully
concealed in the hollow of his hand. This purse was of a
thinness, a flabbiness, a hollowness, which did not escape
the eye of Cropole.
The unknown emptied the purse into his hand. It contained
three double louis, which amounted to the six louis demanded
by the host.
But it was seven that Cropole had required.
He looked, therefore, at the unknown, as much as to say,
“And then?”
“There remains one louis, does there not, master hotelier?”
“Yes, monsieur, but —- ”
The unknown plunged his hand into the pocket of his
haut-de-chausses, and emptied it. It contained a small
pocket-book, a gold key, and some silver. With this change
he made up a louis.
“Thank you, monsieur,” said Cropole. “It now only remains
for me to ask whether monsieur intends to occupy his
apartments to-morrow, in which case I will reserve them for
him; whereas, if monsieur does not mean to do so, I will
promise them to some of the king’s people who are coming.”
“That is but right,” said the unknown, after a long silence,
“but as I have no more money, as you have seen, and as I yet
must retain the apartments, you must either sell this
diamond in the city, or hold it in pledge.”
Cropole looked at the diamond so long, that the unknown
said, hastily:
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Dumas, Alexandre – Ten Years Later
“I prefer your selling it, monsieur; for it is worth three
hundred pistoles. A Jew — are there any Jews in Blois? —
would give you two hundred or a hundred and fifty for it —
take whatever may be offered for it, if it be no more than
the price of your lodging. Begone!”
“Oh! monsieur,” replied Cropole, ashamed of the sudden
inferiority which the unknown reflected upon him by this
noble and disinterested confidence, as well as by the
unalterable patience opposed to so many suspicions and
evasions. “Oh, monsieur, I hope people are not so dishonest
at Blois as you seem to think, and that the diamond, being
worth what you say —- ”
The unknown here again darted at Cropole one of his
withering glances.
“I really do not understand diamonds, monsieur, I assure
you,” cried he.
“But the jewelers do: ask them,” said the unknown. “Now I
believe our accounts are settled, are they not, monsieur
l’hote?”
“Yes, monsieur, and to my profound regret; for I fear I have
offended monsieur.”
“Not at all!” replied the unknown, with ineffable majesty.
“Or have appeared to be extortionate with a noble traveler.
Consider, monsieur, the peculiarity of the case.”
“Say no more about it, I desire; and leave me to myself.”
Cropole bowed profoundly, and left the room with a stupefied
air, which announced that he had a good heart, and felt
genuine remorse.
The unknown himself shut the door after him, and when left
alone, looked mournfully at the bottom of the purse, from
which he had taken a small silken bag containing the
diamond, his last resource.
He dwelt likewise upon the emptiness of his pockets, turned
over the papers in his pocket-book, and convinced himself of
the state of absolute destitution in which he was about to
be plunged.
He raised his eyes towards heaven, with a sublime emotion of
despairing calmness, brushed off with his hand some drops of
sweat which trickled over his noble brow, and then cast down
upon the earth a look which just before had been impressed
with almost divine majesty.
That the storm had passed far from him, perhaps he had
prayed in the bottom of his soul.