“Hold out your skirts, Sophy!” cried Nicholas Jelnik, and poured the glittering things into my lap, boyishly.  He was beautiful again, radiant and young-eyed as the choiring cherubim.  There were two exquisite, pear-shaped ear-ring drops among the Hynds jewels, and these he took, threaded upon my chain on either side the broken coin, and hung around my neck.  He held a ruby against my lip and turquoises near my eyes, and laughed.

“These for Hynds House, Sophy!” he cried, and laughed again to see my lips tremble.  “What?  It is not these you want?  Choose for yourself, then.  I promised you the best of them, you know.”

“I want none of them,” I said.

“No?  Take them, then, Achmet, and put them away,” said Mr. Jelnik, in a matter-of-fact voice.  “You will guard them for me, for the time being.  And tell Daoud I have changed my mind about sending him away.  He can change his about shaving his beard, and save himself the trouble of begging his way to Mecca.”

I stood up in silence, and held out my skirt apron-wise, while The Jinnee as silently removed the Hynds jewels.  Then he tied the buckskin bag, concealed it in a fold of his robe, and left the room.

“Now, Sophy,” said Mr. Jelnik, facing me, “you offered Hynds House to me once, and I refused it because I didn’t have the price.  I told you at the time that if ever I had the Hynds jewels in my possession, I might be tempted to make you an offer of exchange.  I am going to make you an offer now.  I should like to live in Hynds House, Sophy.  I don’t think I could be happy anywhere else.  You see, Sophy, I’m going to spend the rest of my life here in America, become an American citizen.  Now, what about Hynds House?”

“You may have it,” I said.

“At my own price?” he demanded.

“At your own price.  Did you think I would haggle with you?”

“No.  It’s I who intend to haggle with you.  I’m going to make a tremendous bargain.  There’s something that must go with the house.  Something that’s worth more than all the Hyndses ever had in all their lives. You, Sophy.  My sweetheart, come!” And he stood there shining-eyed, and held out his arms.

“Once I sent for you.  Once I called you.  And both times you came to me, Sophy.  You came because you are mine. Come!” said Nicholas Jelnik.  And the golden lights danced in and out of his eyes that were like brown mountain water when the sun is upon it, and his hair was like Absalom’s.

     In all Israel there was none to be so much praised as
     Absalom for his beauty; from the sole of his foot to the
     crown of his head there was no blemish in him.

And caught by the surge and power, as it were of the very wave of life itself, I was swept into those outstretched arms.