“Yes, of course it is.”
“Good gracious! is it though?” I said, nearly dropping it in my surprise.
“It tells the days of the month, the dates of the month,” he went on, “the phases of the moon, the month of the year, the year of the century, the variations in the weather; it chimes the quarters, halves, and three-quarters; it plays a waltz after it strikes the hour; it acts as a revolver—I mean as a repeater—and it is mounted in solid gold of 20 carat, almost pure gold. A timepiece fit for a prince, and belonged originally to Louis Seize. What is it worth to you, money down—on the nail—as you tradesmen say?”
“I shall want a little time to consider the matter.”
“Take your own time, sir, only, for God’s sake, look sharp,” said the old man irreverently, as he removed his hat and wiped his forehead with a big, old-fashioned silk bandanna.
“A clock of this description cannot be reckoned up in a hurry,” I said. “I haven’t examined the works yet.”
“You’ll find them perfect, wonderfully perfect. But don’t breathe into them if you can help it. It affects the waltz movement particularly.”
“a timepiece fit for a prince.”
“Oh, does it, indeed?” I said, ironically.