“And the chain,” I said.

“Monsieur did not demand that!”

“I demand it now.”

In a moment, the chain also was given me.

“And now will Monsieur do me a favor?  Will he inform me by what means he ascertained these facts?”

I glanced at the garcon, who had probably supplied himself with his master’s finery illicitly;—­he was the means;—­we have some generosity;—­I thought I should prefer doing him the favor, and declined.

I unclasped the shagreen case; the sergent-de-ville and the gendarme stole up and looked over my shoulder; the garcon drew near with round eyes; the little woman peeped across; the merchant, with tears streaming over his face, gazed as if it had been a loadstone; finally, I looked myself.  There it lay, the glowing, resplendent thing! flashing in affluence of splendor, throbbing and palpitant with life, drawing all the light from the little woman’s candle, from the sparkling armor around, from the steel barbs, and the distant lantern, into its bosom.  It was scarcely so large as I had expected to see it, but more brilliant than anything I could conceive of.  I do not believe there is another such in the world.  One saw clearly that the Oriental superstition of the sex of stones was no fable; this was essentially the female of diamonds, the queen herself, the principle of life, the rejoicing creative force.  It was not radiant, as the term literally taken implies; it seemed rather to retain its wealth,—­instead of emitting its glorious rays, to curl them back like the fringe of a madrepore, and lie there with redoubled quivering scintillations, a mass of white magnificence, not prismatic, but a vast milky lustre.  I closed the case; on reopening it, I could scarcely believe that the beautiful sleepless eye would again flash upon me.  I did not comprehend how it could afford such perpetual richness, such sheets of lustre.

At last we compelled ourselves to be satisfied.  I left the shop, dismissed my attendants, and, fresh from the contemplation of this miracle, again trod the dirty, reeking streets, crossed the bridge, with its lights, its warehouses midway, its living torrents who poured on unconscious of the beauty within their reach.  The thought of their ignorance of the treasure, not a dozen yards distant, has often made me question if we all are not equally unaware of other and greater processes of life, of more perfect, sublimed, and, as it were, spiritual crystallizations going on invisibly about us.  But had these been told of the thing clutched in the hand of a passer, how many of them would have known where to turn? and we,—­are we any better?

II.

For a few days I carried the diamond about my person, and did not mention its recovery even to my valet, who knew that I sought it, but communicated only with the Marquis of G., who replied, that he would be in Paris on a certain day, when I could safely deliver it to him.