Then, after a few minutes of quietness, he began:
"See, dear Madame Darcourt, this cane saved my life in the prisons of Brindisi, when those Neapolitan ruffians tried to assassinate me. Look to it that it never leaves me, let it be buried with me! My boy will not know the price I set on it, and it would only be lost before he is old enough to use it."
And Madame Darcourt, who saw that he was still somewhat delirious, replied, in order to soothe him, that it should be done as he wished.
"See," my father said,—"the head is gold."
"Certainly it is," she replied.
"Well, then, as I cannot leave my children sufficiently well off to deprive them of the money that knob might fetch—little though it may be—take the cane to Duguet's, the goldsmith's opposite, who will melt it down into a nugget,—then let him bring the nugget to me directly he has done it."
Madame Darcourt was about to venture a remark, but he entreated her so insistently to do what he asked, that she consented, and took the cane to Duguet.
She returned immediately, as she only had to run across the street.
"Well?" my father asked.
"All right, you shall have your nugget at six o'clock to-morrow evening, General."