Frémont, who had already been refused on several occasions, persisted:
“You, madame, who possess such beautiful things and are so worthy of possessing them, show yourself to be what you are, liberal, generous and patriotic, for patriotism also is involved in this matter. Send to the Petit Palais your Riesener cabinet decorated with Sèvres in pâte tendre. With such a treasure you need fear no rival, for its equal is only to be found in England. We will put upon it your porcelain vases, which belonged to the Grand Dauphin, those two marvellous sea-green vases mounted in bronze by Caffieri. It will be dazzling!”
The Comte Davant interrupted him:
“The mounts,” he said in a tone of melancholy wisdom, “are not by Philippe Caffieri. They are marked with a ‘C’ surmounted by a lily. That is Cressent’s mark. You may not know it, but you cannot deny it.”
“Madame, display your magnificence! Add to this your tapestry by Leprince, La Fiancée moscovite, and you will deserve the gratitude of the whole nation.”
She was ready to give way. But before consenting she questioned Lacrisse with a look. He said:
“Lend them your eighteenth-century stuff, as they have none.”
Then, out of deference to the Comte Davant, she asked him what she should do. He replied:
“Do as you like. I have no advice to give you. It will be all the same whether you send or do not send your things to the Exhibition. Rien ne fait rien, as my old friend Théophile Gautier used to say.”
“That’s done!” thought Frémont. “I’ll go presently and tell the Ministry that I’ve managed to secure the Bonmont collection. It’s well worth the rosette.”