"Are we ever to get off?" inquired Bourdin. "I tell you what, my man, if you are not for marching, we must make you, that's all."
"I cannot leave these diamonds about in this manner,—my wife is half distracted," cried Morel, pointing to the stones lying on his work-table. "The person for whom I am polishing them will come to fetch them away either this morning or during the day. They are of considerable value."
"Capital!" whispered Tortillard, who was still peeping in at the half closed door; "capital, capital! What will Mother Chouette say when I tell her this bit of luck?"
"Only give me till to-morrow," said Morel, beseechingly; "only till I can return these diamonds to my employer."
"I tell you, the thing can't be done. So let's have no more to say about it."
"But it is impossible for me to leave diamonds of such value as these exposed, to be lost or even stolen in my absence."
"Well, then, take them along with you. We have got a coach waiting below, for which you will have to pay when you settle the costs. We will go all together to your employer's house, and, if you don't meet with him, why, then, you can deposit these jewels at the office of the prison, where they will be as safe as in the bank; only look sharp, and let's be off before your wife and children perceive us."
"Give me but till to-morrow,—only to bury my child!" implored Morel, in a supplicating voice, half stifled by the heavy sobs he strove in vain to repress.
"Nonsense, I tell you; why, we have lost an hour here already!"
"Besides, it's dull work going to berrins," chimed in Malicorne. "It would be too much for your feelings, p'raps."