"Your confidence does but little honor to your judgment, Madame," said the injured one, "and what I have lost is of far more consequence than a lapful of gold."
Le Glorieux left his place in the window and came forward, saying, "You seem to be in a terrible state of mind, Cousin Clotilde; I have not seen you in such agitation since the news came to Burgundy of the battle of Nancy. What is the gewgaw which you seem to have valued as life itself?"
"It was the moonstone pendant. You know what it means to me to lose it."
"What, the carved lady who winks her eyes while you look at her?"
The Lady Clotilde nodded.
"This is indeed serious," remarked the jester. "If you but knew, Madame Countess, of the awful things written down to happen to the last possessor of that stone, you would be chilled to the bone. Why, death by slow strangulation would be a pleasure to some of the tortures she will suffer if she does not find it again."
"Some, in fact most, of those old traditions are mere myths," said the countess reassuringly.
"You do not consider them myths when they are connected with your girdle," returned Lady Clotilde tartly.
"At any rate the article must be found if possible," said the countess. "Are you very sure, Madame, that you had it when you came here?"
"Of course I am sure that I had it when I came here! Since we left Amboise no one has touched my valuables save myself."