"Forgiveness!" exclaimed the marquis. "You ask me to forgive you? My dear child, I cannot accept such a gift. It is too great!"
"Do not speak so," said Oliver. "It is nothing—a trifle."
"Nothing!" cried the marquis; "a trifle! It is worth twenty-five thousand livres."
"What then?" said Oliver. "I have many others. You embarrass me by making so much of such a little thing. Let me beg that you will not refuse to accept of this trifle—as a connoisseur—as a collector of curios—"
"Ah!" said the marquis, "there you touch me—as a connoisseur—as a collector. Well, then, I accept it. But you—you say you have many others like this?—you are also a connoisseur?"
"Yes," said Oliver. "I have been indulging a very considerable taste in that direction for the past year. I think I may say now that I have as fine a collection of diamonds as any in Europe."
"Would that I might be permitted to see them!" said the marquis.
"You shall," said Oliver; "at least some of them. I can show you but a few at present. If you will pardon me for a moment, I will go and bring them."
He was gone, and Madame de Monnière and Monseigneur the Marquis were left alone together. For all this while the poor woman had been sitting dazed and bewildered. The words that had fallen upon her ears had overwhelmed her. That bit of glass—that little bit of cut-glass—was worth twenty-five thousand livres! Twenty-five thousand livres! Monseigneur the Marquis himself had said so! Twenty-five thousand livres! and Oliver had given it to the marquis as a trifle! Twenty-five thousand livres! and she with her own ears had heard Oliver say that he had many more bits of glass like it! Yes, he had gone this very moment to bring them there and show them to the marquis. Twenty-five thousand livres! Was she dreaming or was she waking? Twenty-five thousand livres! She was amazed; she was bewildered; she was stupefied. In the midst of all, the marquis turned to her.