“Then shut it up, and give your men a holiday. You can put up a notice informing the great public when you will be back.”
“Such a thing was never heard of!”
“It is quite time it should be heard of then. Why, sir, your business is not like a doctor’s, or even a baker’s. People can live without diamonds!”
“Don’t speak disrespectfully of diamonds, Mr. Warlock. If you knew them as I do, you would know they had a thing or two to say.”
“Speak of them disrespectfully you never heard me, Mr. Burns.”
“Never, I confess. I was only talking from the diamond side. Like all things else, they give us according to what we have. To him that hath shall be given. The fine lady may see in her fine diamonds only victory over a rival; the philosopher may read embodied in them law inexorably beautiful; and the Christian poet—oh, I have read my Spenser, Mr. Warlock!—will choose the diamond for its many qualities, as the best and only substance wherein to represent the shield of the faith that overcometh the world. Like the gospel itself, diamonds are a savour of life unto life, or a savour of death unto death, according to the character of them that look on them.”
“That is true enough. Every gift of God is good that is received with faith and thanksgiving, and whatsoever is not of faith is sin. But will you come?”
Mr. Burns did at length actually consent to close his shop for three days, and go with Cosmo.
“It will not be a bad beginning,” he said, as if in justification of himself to himself, “towards retiring from business altogether—which I might have done long ago,” he added, “but for you, sir!”
“It is very well for me you did not,” rejoined Cosmo, but declined to explain. This piqued Mr. Burns’s curiosity, and he set about his preparations at once.