"Hush, monsieur," said Janille, nudging him with her elbow; "you know diamonds and cashmere shawls when you see them, that's likely enough; you have been rich enough to have plenty of 'em. Is that any reason why you should talk so loud and prevent us from looking at them? Diantre! my girl, you didn't waste your time! They may be worth enough to rebuild our château, and Monsieur de Boisguilbault is no such skinflint as I thought."
Gilberte, who had seen very few diamonds in her life, persisted in believing that the necklace was of rock crystal cut like diamonds; but Monsieur de Châteaubrun, having examined the stones and the clasp, replaced them in the box, saying with a sort of pensive melancholy:
"Those diamonds are worth more than a hundred thousand francs. Monsieur de Boisguilbault has given you a marriage-portion, my child!"
"A hundred thousand francs!" cried Janille, "a hundred thousand francs! Think of what you are saying, monsieur! is it possible?"
"Those glistening little stones worth so much money!" exclaimed Jappeloup, in artless amazement entirely free from covetousness; "and they are kept like that in a little box, and not used for anything?"
"People wear them," said Janille, putting the necklace around Gilberte's neck, "and they make a woman look lovely, I should say. Put the shawl over your shoulders, my girl! Not like that! I have seen ladies wearing them in Paris; but I am blessed if I can remember how they fixed them."
"They are very fine, but very uncomfortable," said Gilberte, "and it seems to me as if I were disguised with this shawl and these jewels. Come, let us fold the shawl and put the stones in the box, to send back to Monsieur de Boisguilbault. He must have felt about in the dark and made a mistake. He meant to give me some trifle and he has given me the wedding presents he gave his wife."
"Yes," said the carpenter, "he made a mistake, for sure; for a man doesn't give his dead wife's things to a stranger. He was so excited, poor man! You're not the only man whose wits go wool gathering, Monsieur Antoine."
"No, he made no mistake," said Monsieur Antoine. "He knows what he is doing, and Gilberte can keep these presents."
"Yes, yes, of course," cried Janille. "They are hers, aren't they, Monsieur Antoine? They all belong to her rightfully—since Monsieur de Boisguilbault gives them to her!"