“‘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 Dantès. 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 Dantès took the same care of him as if he had been his brother, the Englishman, when he was set free, gave this stone to Dantès, who, less fortunate, died, and, in his turn, left it to us, and charged the excellent abbé, 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 abbé told us it was worth 50,000 without the setting.’
“‘What was the abbé’s name?’ asked the indefatigable questioner.
“‘The Abbé Busoni,’ said La Carconte.