He opened a drawer and displayed the three antique stones—two emeralds and an amethyst. Kāra smiled, and putting his hand in a pocket underneath his burnous, he drew out five more rubies, but little inferior in size to the one he had first shown.
“Tell me,” said he, “what price you will pay for these, to add to the Khedive’s necklace.”
Andalaft was amazed, but concealed his joy and eagerness as much as possible. Carefully he examined the gems under a glass and then weighed each one in his scales.
“I will give you,” said he, after figuring a little, “four hundred pounds for the five stones.”
Kāra shrugged his shoulders and picked up the rubies.
“That may be the price for ordinary gems,” he remarked; “but their age and cutting give these an added value. I am holding them at eight hundred pounds.”
The merchant smiled.
“It is easy to understand,” said he, with politeness, “that you are a connoisseur of precious stones; but, because you love the antique, your partiality induces you to place an undue value upon your rubies. Come! let us say six hundred.”
“I will not bargain,” returned the Egyptian; “nor do I urge you to buy. If you cannot afford to pay my price I will keep the rubies,” and he made a motion to gather them up.
“Stay!” exclaimed the jeweler. “What does it matter? The Khedive wishes them, and I must make the sacrifice for his pleasure.”