The jewelers looked dazzled for a moment, consulted together, and then said, “No, monsieur, it is useless to tempt us. A will more powerful than our own compels us to decline. You understand, no doubt, that it is not we who refuse. We only obey the orders of one greater than any of us.”
Beausire and Manoël saw that it was useless to say more, and tried to look and speak indifferently on the matter.
Meanwhile the valet had been listening attentively, and just then making an unlucky movement, stumbled against the door. Beausire ran to the ante-chamber. “What on earth are you about?” cried he.
“Monsieur, I bring the morning despatches.”
“Good,” said Beausire, taking them from him, “now go.”
They were letters from Portugal, generally very insignificant, but which, passing through their hands before going to Ducorneau, often gave them useful information about the affairs of the embassy.
The jewelers, hearing the word despatches, rose to leave like men who had received their congé.
“Well,” said Manoël, when they were gone, “we are completely beaten. Only 100,000 francs, a poor spoil; we shall have but 8,000 each.”
“It is not worth the trouble. But it might be 50,000 each.”
“Good,” replied Manoël, “but the valet will never leave us now he knows the affair has failed.”