“But now, Coralie,” cried the children, “but now tell us truly where you got the necklace. Did the magician give it to you?”
“Yes,” said Coralie, “he just handed it to me without saying a word. I think he——”
She did not finish the sentence, for the necklace had suddenly grown so tight that it was choking her, and she was gasping for breath.
“Come, come, Coralie!” cried one of the girls. “You are keeping back part of the truth! Tell the truth! What happened?”
“He said I was one of the most untruthful persons in the world,” admitted Coralie; and the necklace became itself again.
And so things kept on. Every time Coralie tried to say one untruthful thing, the necklace behaved in some queer, frightful way. Even the children became sorry for her, for she began to look worried all the time.
“If I were you, I’d take the necklace back,” one of the girls told her. “It gives you no happiness at all.”
“Indeed it doesn’t,” said Coralie, “I wish I——”
“Why don’t you take it back?” the girl asked.
Now, Coralie did not wish to tell her, and kept still, for she was wondering what she could possibly say; but the necklace began to act wildly. The stones began to dance up and down so hard that they hurt her.