refreshment.' The jeweller examined attentively the interior of the
inn and the apparent poverty of the persons who were about to sell
him a diamond that seemed to have come from the casket of a prince.
`Relate your story, madame,' said he, wishing, no doubt, to profit
by the absence of the husband, so that the latter could not
influence the wife's story, to see if the two recitals tallied.
"`Oh,' returned she, `it was a gift of heaven. My husband was a
great friend, in 1814 or 1815, of a sailor named Edmond Dantes.
This poor fellow, whom Caderousse had forgotten, had not forgotten
him, and at his death he bequeathed this diamond to him.' — `But
how did he obtain it?' asked the jeweller; `had he it before he was
imprisoned?' — `No, monsieur; but it appears that in prison he made
the acquaintance of a rich Englishman, and as in prison he fell
sick, and Dantes took the same care of him as if he had been his
brother, the Englishman, when he was set free, gave this stone to
Dantes, who, less fortunate, died, and, in his turn, left it to us,
and charged the excellent abbe, who was here this morning, to
deliver it.' — `The same story,' muttered the jeweller; `and
improbable as it seemed at first, it may be true. There's only the
price we are not agreed about.' — `How not agreed about?' said
Caderousse. `I thought we agreed for the price I asked.' — `That
is,' replied the jeweller, `I offered 40,000 francs.' — `Forty
thousand,' cried La Carconte; `we will not part with it for that
sum. The abbe told us it was worth 50,000 without the setting.'
"`What was the abbe's name?' asked the indefatigable questioner.
— `The Abbe Busoni,' said La Carconte. — `He was a foreigner?' —
`An Italian, from the neighborhood of Mantua, I believe.' — `Let me
see this diamond again,' replied the jeweller; `the first time you
are often mistaken as to the value of a stone.' Caderousse took
from his pocket a small case of black shagreen, opened, and gave it
to the jeweller. At the sight of the diamond, which was as large asto the jeweller. At the sight of the diamond, which was as large as
a hazel-nut, La Carconte's eyes sparkled with cupidity."
"And what did you think of this fine story, eavesdropper?" said
Monte Cristo; "did you credit it?"
"Yes, your excellency. I did not look on Caderousse as a bad
man, and I thought him incapable of committing a crime, or even a
theft."
"That did more honor to your heart than to your experience, M.
Bertuccio. Had you known this Edmond Dantes, of whom they
spoke?"
"No, your excellency, I had never heard of him before, and never
but once afterwards, and that was from the Abbe Busoni himself,
when I saw him in the prison at Nimes."
"Go on."
"The jeweller took the ring, and drawing from his pocket a pair
of steel pliers and a small set of copper scales, he took the stone
out of its setting, and weighed it carefully. `I will give you
45,000,' said he, `but not a sou more; besides, as that is the
exact value of the stone, I brought just that sum with me.' — `Oh,
that's no matter,' replied Caderousse, `I will go back with you to
fetch the other 5,000 francs.' — `No,' returned the jeweller,
giving back the diamond and the ring to Caderousse — `no, it is
worth no more, and I am sorry I offered so much, for the stone has
a flaw in it, which I had not seen. However, I will not go back on
my word, and I will give 45,000.' — `At least, replace the diamond
in the ring,' said La Carconte sharply. — `Ah, true,' replied the
jeweller, and he reset the stone. — `No matter,' observed
Caderousse, replacing the box in his pocket, `some one else will
purchase it.' — `Yes,' continued the jeweller; `but some one else
will not be so easy as I am, or content himself with the same
story. It is not natural that a man like you should possess such a
diamond. He will inform against you. You will have to find the Abbe
Busoni; and abbes who give diamonds worth two thousand louis are
rare. The law would seize it, and put you in prison; if at the end
of three or four months you are set at liberty, the ring will beof three or four months you are set at liberty, the ring will be
lost, or a false stone, worth three francs, will be given you,
instead of a diamond worth 50,000 or perhaps 55,000 francs; from
which you must allow that one runs considerable risk in
purchasing.' Caderousse and his wife looked eagerly at each other.
— `No,' said Caderousse, `we are not rich enough to lose 5,000
francs.' — `As you please, my dear sir,' said the, jeweller; `I
had, however, as you see, brought you the money in bright coin.'
And he drew from his pocket a handful of gold, and held it
sparkling before the dazzled eyes of the innkeeper, and in the
other hand he held a packet of bank-notes.
"There was evidently a severe struggle in the mind of
Caderousse; it was plain that the small shagreen case, which he
turned over and over in his hand, did not seem to him commensurate
in value to the enormous sum which fascinated his gaze. He turned
towards his wife. `What do you think of this?' he asked in a low
voice. — `Let him have it — let him have it,' she said. `If he
returns to Beaucaire without the diamond, he will inform against
us, and, as he says, who knows if we shall ever again see the Abbe
Busoni? — in all probability we shall never see him.' — `Well,
then, so I will!' said Caderousse; `so you may have the diamond for
45,000 francs. But my wife wants a gold chain, and I want a pair of
silver buckles.' The jeweller drew from his pocket a long flat box,
which contained several samples of the articles demanded. `Here,'
he said, `I am very straightforward in my dealings — take your
choice.' The woman selected a gold chain worth about five louis,
and the husband a pair of buckles. worth perhaps fifteen francs. —
`I hope you will not complain now?' said the jeweller.
"`The abbe told me it was worth 50,000 francs,' muttered
Caderousse. `Come, come — give it to me! What a strange fellow you
are,' said the jeweller, taking the diamond from his hand. `I give
you 45,000 francs — that is, 2,500 livres of income, — a fortune