The price was five hundred and fifty thousand marks. Christian offered the half million. Herr Markuse consulted his watch. “I promised a lady that I would hold it,” he declared. “But the promised hour is past.” They agreed upon five hundred and twenty thousand marks. Half was to be paid in cash, the other in two notes running for different periods. “The name of Wahnschaffe is sufficient guarantee,” the merchant said.
Christian weighed the diamond in his hand, and laid it down again.
David Markuse smiled. “In my business one learns how to judge people,” he said without any familiarity. “You are making this purchase with a deeper intention than you yourself are probably conscious of. The soul of the diamond has lured you on. For the diamond has a soul.”
“Do you really mean that?” Christian was surprised.
“I know it. There are people who lose all shame when they see a beautiful jewel. Their nostrils quiver, their cheeks grow pale, their hands tremble uncertainly, their pupils expand, and they betray themselves by every motion. Others are intimidated, or bereft of their senses, or saddened. You gain curious insights into human nature. The masks drop. Diamonds make people transparent.”
The indiscreet turn of the conversation irritated Christian. But he had often before become aware of the fact that something in him seemed to invite the communicativeness and confidence of others. He arose, and promised to return that evening.
“The lady of whom I was speaking,” Markuse continued, as he accompanied him to the door, “and who was here yesterday, is a very wonderful lady. When she came in, I thought: is it possible for mere walking to be so beautiful? Well, I soon found out that she is a famous dancer. She is stopping at the Palace Hotel for a day, on her way from Paris to Russia, merely in order to see Ignifer. I showed her the stone. She stood looking at it for at least five minutes. She did not move, and the expression of her face! Well, if the jewel didn’t represent a large part of all I have in the world, I would have begged her simply to keep it. Such moments are not exactly frequent in my business. She was to have returned to-day, but, as I have told you, she didn’t keep her engagement.”
“And you don’t know her name?” Christian asked, shyly.
“Oh, yes. Her name is Eva Sorel. Did you ever hear of her?”
The blood came into Christian’s face. He let go the knob of the door. “Eva Sorel is here?” he murmured. He pulled himself together, and opened the door to an empty room that was carpeted in red, and the walls of which were hidden by ebony cases. Almost at the same moment the opposite door was thrown open; and, followed by four gentlemen, Eva Sorel crossed the threshold.