“My little mamma! every now and then I felt ashamed.”

“Solonet advises me to put the proceeds of this house into an annuity,” said Madame Evangelista, “but I shall do otherwise; I won’t take a penny of my fortune from you.”

“I saw you were all very angry,” said Natalie.  “How did the tempest calm down?”

“By an offer of my diamonds,” replied Madame Evangelista.  “Solonet was right.  How ably he conducted the whole affair.  Get out my jewel-case, Natalie.  I have never seriously considered what my diamonds are worth.  When I said a hundred thousand francs I talked nonsense.  Madame de Gyas always declared that the necklace and ear-rings your father gave me on our marriage day were worth at least that sum.  My poor husband was so lavish!  Then my family diamond, the one Philip the Second gave to the Duke of Alba, and which my aunt bequeathed to me, the ‘Discreto,’ was, I think, appraised in former times at four thousand quadruples,—­one of our Spanish gold coins.”

Natalie laid out upon her mother’s toilet-table the pearl necklace, the sets of jewels, the gold bracelets and precious stones of all description, with that inexpressible sensation enjoyed by certain women at the sight of such treasures, by which—­so commentators on the Talmud say—­the fallen angels seduce the daughters of men, having sought these flowers of celestial fire in the bowels of the earth.

“Certainly,” said Madame Evangelista, “though I know nothing about jewels except how to accept and wear them, I think there must be a great deal of money in these.  Then, if we make but one household, I can sell my plate, the weight of which, as mere silver, would bring thirty thousand francs.  I remember when we brought it from Lima, the custom-house officers weighed and appraised it.  Solonet is right, I’ll send to-morrow to Elie Magus.  The Jew shall estimate the value of these things.  Perhaps I can avoid sinking any of my fortune in an annuity.”

“What a beautiful pearl necklace!” said Natalie.

“He ought to give it to you, if he loves you,” replied her mother; “and I think he might have all my other jewels reset and let you keep them.  The diamonds are a part of your property in the contract.  And now, good-night, my darling.  After the fatigues of this day we both need rest.”

The woman of luxury, the Creole, the great lady, incapable of analyzing the results of a contract which was not yet in force, went to sleep in the joy of seeing her daughter married to a man who was easy to manage, who would let them both be mistresses of his home, and whose fortune, united to theirs, would require no change in their way of living.  Thus having settled her account with her daughter, whose patrimony was acknowledged in the contract, Madame Evangelista could feel at her ease.

“How foolish of me to worry as I did,” she thought.  “But I wish the marriage were well over.”

So Madame Evangelista, Paul, Natalie, and the two notaries were equally satisfied with the first day’s result.  The Te Deum was sung in both camps,—­a dangerous situation; for there comes a moment when the vanquished side is aware of its mistake.  To Madame Evangelista’s mind, her son-in-law was the vanquished side.