“It is a preventive of palsy,” I remarked, as the slight trembling of my adversary’s finger caught my eye.

“And I have noticed that a taste for it is peculiar to those who trace their blood to Galitzin,” continued Madame.

“Let us, therefore, elect a deputation to those mines near Cracow,” said Delphine.

“To our cousins, the slaves there?” laughed her mother.

“I must vote to lay your bill on the table, Mademoiselle,” I rejoined.

“But with a boule blanche, Monsieur?”

“As the salt has been laid on the floor,” said the Baron.

Meanwhile, as this light skirmishing proceeded, my sleeve and Mme. de St. Cyr’s dress were slightly powdered, but I had not seen the diamond.  The Baron, bolder than I, looked under the table, but made no discovery.  I was on the point of dropping my napkin to accomplish a similar movement, when my accommodating neighbor dropped hers.  To restore it, I stooped.  There it lay, large and glowing, the Sea of Splendor, the Moon of Milk, the Torment of my Life, on the carpet, within half an inch of a lady’s slipper.  Mademoiselle de St. Cyr’s foot had prevented the Baron from seeing it; now it moved and unconsciously covered it.  All was as I wished.  I hastily restored the napkin, and looked steadily at Delphine,—­so steadily, that she perceived some meaning, as she had already suspected a game.  By my sign she understood me, pressed her foot upon the stone and drew it nearer.  In France we do not remain at table until unfit for a lady’s society,—­we rise with them.  Delphine needed to drop neither napkin nor handkerchief; she composedly stooped and picked up the stone, so quickly that no one saw what it was.

“And the diamond?” said the Baron to the butler, rapidly, as he passed.

“It was in the saliere!” whispered the astonished creature.

In the drawing-room I sought the Marquis.

“To-day I was to surrender you your property,” I said; “it is here.”

“Do you know,” he replied, “I thought I must have been mistaken?”

“Any of our volatile friends here might have been,” I resumed; “for us it is impossible.  Concerning this, when you return to France, I will relate the incidents; at present, there are those who will not hesitate to take life to obtain its possession.  The diligence leaves in twenty minutes; and if I owned the diamond, it should not leave me behind.  Moreover, who knows what a day may bring forth?  To-morrow there may be an emeute.  Let me restore the thing as you withdraw.”

The Marquis, who is not, after all, the Lion of England, pausing a moment to transmit my words from his ear to his brain, did not afterward delay to make inquiries or adieux, but went to seek Mme. de St. Cyr and wish her goodnight, on his departure from Paris.  As I awaited his return, which I knew would not be immediate, Delphine left the Baron and joined me.