“Is there a window in the dressing-room?”
“Two, — one here and one there.” Andrea sketched two windows in the room, which formed an angle on the plan, and appeared as a small square added to the rectangle of the bedroom. Caderousse became thoughtful. “Does he often go to Auteuil?” added he.
“Two or three times a week. To-morrow, for instance, he is going to spend the day and night there.”
“Are you sure of it?”
“He has invited me to dine there.”
“There’s a life for you,” said Caderousse; “a town house and a country house.”
“That is what it is to be rich.”
“And shall you dine there?”
“Probably.”
“When you dine there, do you sleep there?”
“If I like; I am at home there.” Caderousse looked at the young man, as if to get at the truth from the bottom of his heart. But Andrea drew a cigar-case from his pocket, took a havana, quietly lit it, and began smoking. “When do you want your twelve hundred francs?” said he to Caderousse.
“Now, if you have them.” Andrea took five and twenty louis from his pocket.
“Yellow boys?” said Caderousse; “no, I thank you.”
“Oh, you despise them.”
“On the contrary, I esteem them, but will not have them.”
“You can change them, idiot; gold is worth five sous.”
“Exactly; and he who changes them will follow friend Caderousse, lay hands on him, and demand what farmers pay him their rent in gold. No nonsense, my good fellow; silver simply, round coins with the head of some monarch or other on them. Anybody may possess a five-franc piece.”
“But do you suppose I carry five hundred francs about with me? I should want a porter.”
“Well, leave them with your porter; he is to be trusted. I will call for them.”
“To-day?”
“No, to-morrow; I shall not have time to day.”
“Well, to-morrow I will leave them when I go to Auteuil.”
“May I depend on it?”
“Certainly.”
“Because I shall secure my housekeeper on the strength of it.”
“Now see here, will that be all? Eh? And will you not torment me any more?”
“Never.” Caderousse had become so gloomy that Andrea feared he should be obliged to notice the change. He redoubled his gayety and carelessness. “How sprightly you are,” said Caderousse; “One would say you were already in possession of your property.”
“No, unfortunately; but when I do obtain it” —
“Well?”
“I shall remember old friends, I can tell you that.”
“Yes, since you have such a good memory.”
“What do you want? It looks as if you were trying to fleece me?”
“I? What an idea! I, who am going to give you another piece of good advice.”
“What is it?”
“To leave behind you the diamond you have on your finger. We shall both get into trouble. You will ruin both yourself and me by your folly.”
“How so?” said Andrea.
“How? You put on a livery, you disguise yourself as a servant, and yet keep a diamond on your finger worth four or five thousand francs.”
“You guess well.”
“I know something of diamonds; I have had some.”
“You do well to boast of it,” said Andrea, who, without becoming angry, as Caderousse feared, at this new extortion, quietly resigned the ring. Caderousse looked so closely at it that Andrea well knew that he was examining to see if all the edges were perfect.
“It is a false diamond,” said Caderousse.
“You are joking now,” replied Andrea.
“Do not be angry, we can try it.” Caderousse went to the window, touched the glass with it, and found it would cut.
“Confiteor,” said Caderousse, putting the diamond on his little finger; “I was mistaken; but those thieves of jewellers imitate so well that it is no longer worth while to rob a jeweller’s shop — it is another branch of industry paralyzed.”
“Have you finished?” said Andrea, —“do you want anything more? — will you have my waistcoat or my hat? Make free, now you have begun.”
“No; you are, after all, a good companion; I will not detain you, and will try to cure myself of my ambition.”
“But take care the same thing does not happen to you in selling the diamond you feared with the gold.”