“Of the same size? That would be difficult to obtain,” replied the jeweler.
“Well, we will not decide to-day,” said the old gentleman, and we left the shop.
“I want to go to a few other jewelers,” he said, when we took our seats in the carriage, “but not to-day. I now know what your taste is. Moreover, I have brought with me from Australia some stones which are far finer and larger than those we have seen here. I will have them mounted as a diadem.”
I rejoice to this day that I had that drive in Paris. I experienced thereby a sensation which it is vouchsafed to few human beings to enjoy,—the feeling of having immeasurable wealth at one’s command; of being able to secure, by merely nodding, anything that money can buy. At the first moment it is an intoxicating sensation, but—this observation I also value: the intoxication soon passes away and gives place to a certain sense of surfeit; it comes over one like a weariness, “If one can so speedily have everything that one wishes, what then is left to wish for?” And then, above and beyond the treasures that money provides, how many treasures there are which are not purchasable,—love, glory, honor, lightness of heart, health—what good did his row of houses in Melbourne do the poor lame man? And I, instead of belonging to a strong, influential, well-beloved husband, to whom I might look up, on whom I could rely—this lad....
Prince Achille came to us in order to make the acquaintance of my suitor. I think he did find him rather insignificant, but that seemed to him only one thing more in his favor.
“You will make of him whatever you want; you will be able to twist him around your little finger!”
He invited him to dinner for the next evening. But the next evening, after we had been waiting for our guest a quarter of an hour, a message came: “Mr. F. is ill and begs to be excused.” The next day the indisposition had fortunately passed away. Inquiries at the Rothschilds’ brought no detailed information; the head of the house was at Nice, and the clerks could only report that a letter of credit bearing the name in question had actually been presented and honored. And now the betrothal was to be solemnly celebrated. Prince Achille’s parents had the friendliness to offer their house in which to hold the banquet, and they sent out the invitations. Arrayed in a sky-blue toilet which I had had fashioned at Worth’s for the occasion, and with a throbbing heart, I entered the salon. The carriage had been delayed on the way, and so we—my mother and I—got there rather late. The whole company was assembled, but the future bridegroom had not as yet arrived! A painful quarter of an hour elapsed, and then, the one expected still failing to appear, we went out to dinner. I was seated at the right of the aged head of the house—the place at my right remained vacant for the time. We had reached the third course, in a very painful frame of mind, when a note was brought: “Mr. F. begs to be excused; he has been suddenly taken ill.” After this the dinner went off very stupidly. Of course the engagement toasts had to remain undelivered, and the champagne glasses were drained only to the speedy recovery of the absent one.
I foreboded nothing good. This repeated excuse to my friends, and at the betrothal banquet above all things, and in such a cool tone,—what could it signify? The mail brought me the next morning an explanation of what it meant: a letter from the father,—only a few lines, with the tidings that the two men had gone to England. They had come to the painful decision that the engagement must be broken. The disparity of ages was too great, for the young man was—it had to be confessed—not twenty but only just eighteen. “Farewell, and may you be as happy as you deserve. Yours truly.”—
And that was all! The whole fairy-tale dream blown away! Later we learned that all that row of houses in Melbourne, and the rest of the millions, were only figments of the imagination.
Of course for a time I was hurt and humiliated on account of this episode. I felt that I had been made a mock of before the whole Murat family. Still my friends endeavored to sustain me and kept assuring me that all the discredit fell on the two Englishmen, and that it was really a piece of good luck to be rid of those erratic people. And soon I really became reconciled.