The marquis turned his back.

Before I could speak I rose and put my arms around him.  He wheeled, took my hand, stood at a little distance, and kissed it.

We said not one word about the portraits, but sat down with the jewel-case again between us.

“These stones and coins are also my sister’s, monsieur the marquis?”

He lifted his eyebrows.

“I had ample opportunity, my dear boy, to turn them into the exchequer of the Count of Provence.  Before his quarrel with the late czar of Russia he maintained a dozen gentlemen-in-waiting, and perhaps as many ladies, to say nothing of priests, servants, attendants of attendants, and guards.  This treasure might last him two years.  If the king of Spain and his majesty of Russia got wind of it, and shut off their pensions, it would not last so long.  I am too thrifty a Frenchman to dissipate the hoards of the state in foreign parts!  Yet, if you question my taste—­I will not say my honesty, Lazarre—­”

“I question nothing, monsieur!  I ask advice.”

“Eh, bien!  Then do not be quite as punctilious as the gentleman who got turned out of the debtor side of Ste. Pelagie into an alley.  ’This will not do,’ says he.  So around he posts to the entrance, and asks for admittance again!”

“Catch me knocking at Ste. Pelagie for admittance again!”

“Then my advice is to pay your tailor, if he has done his work acceptably.”

“He has done it marvelously, especially in the fitting.”

“A Parisian workman finds it no miracle to fit a man from his old clothes.  I took the liberty of sending your orders.  Having heard my little story, you understand that you owe me nothing but your society; and a careful inventory of this trust.”

We were a long time examining the contents of the case.  There were six bags of coin, all gold louis; many unset gems; rings for the hand; and clusters of various sorts which I knew not how to name, that blazed with a kind of white fire very dazzling.  The half-way crown was crusted thick with colored stones the like of which I could not have imagined in my dreams.  Their names, the marquis told me, were sapphires, emeralds, rubies; and large clear diamonds, like beads of rain.  When everything was carefully returned to place, he asked: 

“Shall I still act as your banker?”

I begged him to hide the jewel box again, and he concealed it in the wall.

“We go to the Rue Ste. Croix, Lazarre, which is an impossible place for your friend Bellenger at this time.  Do you dance a gavotte?”

I told him I could dance the Indian corn dance, and he advised me to reserve this accomplishment.

“Bonaparte’s police are keen on any scent, especially the scent of a prince.  His practical mind would reject the Temple story, if he ever heard it; and there are enough live Bourbons for him to watch.”

“But there is the Count de Chaumont,” I suggested.