THE TOUR DE L'OISEAU
"Thirty-three Henris, of which two are bad, these I have set aside—seven sols, and nine deniers, making in all thirty-one Henris, seven sols, and nine coppers of good money—and this is all, monsieur."
It was touching the afternoon, and I was going over the present state of my affairs with Pierrebon. I looked at the small heaps of coin he had sorted out carefully on the table before me, and then rising walked to my window and gazed out. The storm of last night had passed, and Poitiers lay before me, all wet and glistening in warm sunlight. I was not, however, interested in the landscape but in the hard fact that thirty-one Henris, in round figures, would not carry me far in what I had before me. After a minute or so I came back again, and looked at the money and then at Pierrebon. It was a hopeless sum.
"It is correct, monsieur," he said; "and, of course, we have the horses."
"I know that; but what I am thinking of is that it is not enough. In short, I know not how long it will be before I can communicate with Olden Hoorn at Antwerp; and more money is needed, for there is work before us, Pierrebon."
The honest fellow's eyes lit. "How many times have I not said the good days would come back, monsieur? All the years can never be famine years, and we will have our hotel in the Rue de Bourgogne again, and twenty gentlemen at our heels when we go to the Louvre; and if money is needed now, monsieur, we have it."
"Where? I do not see it." And I laughed.
For answer Pierrebon unclasped his belt. Then taking his poniard he ripped up an inch or so of leather on the inner side and took therefrom a piece of paper carefully folded. This he handed to me, saying:
"Open it carefully, monsieur."
I did so, and found I had in my hand a diamond of some value. I looked at it in astonishment, and then at Pierrebon. He read my glance, and began hastily: