She had the jewel-case in her hand still, and was turning it about, admiring the brightness of the stones, which sparkled in the dim light. Presently she went back to her low chair by the fire, and let the case lie open in her lap, with the fire-glow shining on the gems, until the pure white stones took all the colours of the rainbow.
‘I can fancy myself in a box at the opera, in a tight-fitting ruby velvet dress, with no ornaments but this necklace and single diamonds for eardrops,’ mused La Chicot. ‘I do not think there are many women in Paris who would surpass me.’
‘Not one.’
‘And I should look on while other women danced for my amusement,’ she pursued. ‘After all, the life of a stage dancer is a poor thing at best. There are only so many rungs of the ladder between me and a dancing girl at a fair. I am getting tired of it.’
‘You will be a good deal more tired when you are a few years older,’ said Desrolles.
‘At six-and-twenty one need not think of age.’
‘No; but at six-and-thirty age will think of you.’
‘I have asked for a week to consider his offer,’ said La Chicot. ‘This day week I am to give him an answer, yes or no. If I keep the diamonds, it will mean yes. If I send them back to him, it will mean no.’
‘I can’t imagine any woman saying no to such a necklace as that,’ said Desrolles.
‘What is it worth, after all? Fifteen years ago a string of glass beads bought in the market at Auray would have made me happier than those diamonds can make me now.’