"Your Excellency has taken the very words out of my mouth. Depend and rely on it, I am straightforward with you—I always speak the truth. I always do the honest thing. Why, then, should I deny it? According to the price of my contract I gain half a griva on every flask; of that I will make over two copecks to your Excellency."
"I tell you what, you make your contract so that it brings you in a whole griva apiece, and give me four copecks on each."
Herr Zsabakoff agreed to this proposition. But Daimona was none too delicate of her guests' feelings. One of her slaves was a jeweller, and expert in precious stones. Him she sent for, and, in Zsabakoff's presence, had the ornament valued. This was her custom. She kept the slave specially for that office. The expert valued it at one thousand five hundred rubles; but had the centre stone been pure water instead of yellow it would have been worth two thousand.
"You don't understand anything about it!" screamed Zsabakoff. "Yellow diamonds are unique; they are called 'fantaisie.' Besides, it is an antique, and great people like antiques best."
"Quite true. All the same, a pure-water solitaire would be worth five hundred rubles more."
"Do you hear?" quoth Daimona. "Don't forget next time to exchange it for a handsomer and costlier one. And then I prefer it set in gold to this silver setting."
Zsabakoff promised to obey her behests, and took his leave with as much kissing of hands and feet as though he had received instead of given.
Some weeks later Zsabakoff came back more amiable and deferential than the first time.
"My word is as good as my bond," said he. "Instead of that worn-out old ferronnière I bring you a brand-new one. Look at this stone, your Excellency. What a fire! how pure! a perfect Golconda brilliant! It dazzles the eyes like sunlight."
And he went on crying up the new ornament until Daimona gave him back the old one for it.