Torres did no more than nod curtly.
"It is a natural gem. It is small. It, as you can see for yourself, is not perfect. And it is clear that much of it will be lost in the cutting."
"How much is it worth?" Torres demanded with impatient bluntness.
"I am a poor man," Fernandez reiterated.
"I have not asked you to buy it, old fool. But now that you bring the matter up, how much will you give for it?"
"As I was saying, craving your patience, honorable senor, as I was saying, I am a very poor man. There are days when I cannot spend ten centavos for a morsel of spoiled fish. There are days when I cannot afford a sip of the cheap red wine I learned was tonic to my system when I was a lad, far from Barcelona, serving my apprenticeship in Italy. I am so very poor that I do not buy costly pretties
"Not to sell again at a profit?" Torres cut in.
"If I am sure of my profit," the old man cackled. "Yes, then will I buy; but, being poor, I cannot pay more than little." He picked up the gem and studied it long and carefully. "I would give," he began hesitatingly, "I would give but, please, honorable senor, know that I am a very poor man. This day only a spoonful of onion soup, with my morning coffee and a mouthful of crust, passed my lips-"
"In God's name, old fool, what will you give?" Torres thundered.
"Five hundred dollars but I doubt the profit that will remain to me."