When the last one had gone, Annette took off her unaccustomed finery, and, holding in her hands the splendid necklace, looked with wonder on the round globes of pearls, which showed on their satiny faces the shifting tones of rose, blue, pale green, and yellow.
“Ah, mother,” she sighed, “to think that so beautiful a thing should be mine!”
“Remember always, little daughter, that it was first my mother’s portion, then mine, and shall be yours, never to part with.”
“Of a truth, dear mother, I should wish to keep it always. But,” and here she hesitated, “you know the other jewels which grandpère gave have all gone.”
“Those were my own, but this is different, and should be kept always, except in case of gravest need.”
“Gravest need—what is that, mamma?” and Annette’s blue eyes looked up solemnly into her mother’s face.
“Does it mean to save a life, mamma?”
Madame Valvier, hardly appreciating the earnest little soul which was listening to her words, answered,—
“Yes, to save life or honour. Now, put it in its box, and come with me till I show you where it is hidden.”
In a small room where the children kept their few playthings, some rude toys and some bright shells and beans, Madame Valvier paused, and, stooping, took from beneath the window a small board, which disclosed a box-like cupboard lined with lead.