And he brought from a closet the red hood, which he spread out on the table.
"Here is an article of clothing—to use your own words—that may be of interest to you. Its color is beautiful; if you saw it in the sunshine, it would dazzle you. I grant that the stuff is common—it is very ordinary cashmere—but if you deign to examine it closely, you will be struck by the peculiar perfume that it exhales. The Italians call it 'l'odor femminino.'"
"And what is your rate of charge for the 'odor femminino'?"
"I will be moderate. I will let you have this article and its perfume for five thousand francs. It is actually giving it away."
"Assuredly. We will say ten and five—that makes fifteen thousand."
"One moment. You can pay for all together. I have other things to offer you.—One would say that the floor burned your feet, and that you could not endure being in this room."
"I allow that I long to leave this—what shall I say?—this shop, lair, or den."
"You are young, monsieur: it never does to hurry; haste causes us acts of forgetfulness which we afterward regret. You would be very sorry not to take away with you these two scraps of paper."
At these words he drew from his note-book two letters, which he unfolded.
"Is there much more?" demanded Camille. "I fear that I shall become short of funds, and be obliged to go back for more."