"Monsieur shall have them for twenty-eight!"
I shook my head.
"Twenty-seven! It is a cruel loss, it is ruin—but take them, only take them."
I still retreated, still wagging my head.
"MON DIEU, they shall even go for twenty-six! There, I have said it. Come!"
I wagged another negative. A nurse and a little English girl had been near me, and were following me, now. The shopwoman ran to the nurse, thrust the beads into her hands, and said:
"Monsieur shall have them for twenty-five! Take them to the hotel—he shall send me the money tomorrow—next day—when he likes." Then to the child: "When thy father sends me the money, come thou also, my angel, and thou shall have something oh so pretty!"
I was thus providentially saved. The nurse refused the beads squarely and firmly, and that ended the matter.