“Oh! how can you wear such trash, monsieur? I would not give fifteen francs for the whole lot.”
Chérubin took off his chain, his pin and his watch, and dashed them all on the floor, in a passion which was due, not to the loss of his money, but to his vexation at being deceived. Then he gave the jeweler his address.
“Please bring me to-morrow,” he said, “all that I believed that I really owned—the handsomest things that you have; you will see, monsieur, that I have the means to pay for genuine jewels.”
The jeweler bowed, assuring him that he should be obeyed; and they left the shop.
“As for your Monsieur Poterne,” cried Chérubin to Daréna, “I advise him not to show his face at my house again.”
Daréna, making a show of being furious, seized Chérubin’s hand and shook it violently.
“My friend,” he said, “I am the involuntary cause of all this; that rascally Poterne deceived me as he did you. I am sure that he is robbing me shamefully too. But it is for me to punish him; I am going to find him now and give him a thrashing.”
With that, he hastily took his leave of the three young men and went home.
Daréna at this time occupied a small, but attractive apartment on Rue Neuve-Bréda. Thanks to Poterne’s transactions with the young marquis, of which Daréna received a share of the profits, he had been in funds for some time. His man of business occupied a small room above his apartment.
“Is Poterne in my rooms?” asked Daréna, as he passed the concierge.