'Are you a judge of jewels?' continued Monsieur Alphonse, holding up his brawny hand; 'how do you like this? Here is the ring I am going to give her to-morrow.'
So saying, he drew from the first joint of his little finger a large ring set with diamonds, in the form of two hands clasped together; a pretty allusion, which seemed quite poetical. The workmanship was very ancient, but appeared to have been lately retouched, to let in the diamonds. On the inner side of the ring were these words in Gothic characters: 'Sempr' al te,' that is, 'Always with thee.'
'It is a very beautiful ring,' said I; 'but these diamonds which have been added seem to have destroyed its character a little.'
'Oh! it is much handsomer as it is,' replied he, smiling. 'There is twelve hundred francs' worth of diamonds there. My mother gave it to me. It was a family ring; very ancient, of the time of chivalry. She got it from my grandmother, who had it from her's. The Lord knows when it was made.'
'It is the custom in Paris, on these occasions,' said I, 'to give a ring that is entirely plain, usually composed of two different metals, such as gold and platinum. Look, the other ring, which you have on this finger, would be more appropriate. This one with the diamonds, and the hands in relief, is so large that a glove cannot be worn over it.'
'Oh! Madame Alphonse must manage that as she pleases. I think she will be very well content to have it as it is. Twelve hundred francs on one's finger is not so bad. This little ring here,' added he, regarding the plain ring on his left hand with an air of complacency, 'was given me by a lady at Paris one Shrove-Tuesday. Ah!' added he, with a sigh of regret, 'what fine times I had in Paris two years ago! That's the place for sport.'
As we were to dine this day at Puygarey, with the relatives of the future bride, we proceeded in a carriage to the chateau, which was about a league and a half distant from Ille. I was introduced and welcomed as a friend of the family. I shall not speak of the dinner, nor of the conversation which ensued, in which I took but little part.
Mademoiselle de Puygarey was about eighteen years of age; and her slender and delicate figure formed a strong contrast with the coarse and robust frame of her affianced. She was not merely beautiful, but winning and attractive. I admired the perfect simplicity of all her movements, and the ingenuousness of her replies; and the general expression of her countenance, which was not exempt from a slight tinge of malice, reminded me, in spite of myself, of the Venus of my host. In the inward comparison I made between them, I asked myself whether the superiority of beauty, which must clearly be conceded to the statue, did not in some degree depend upon her fierce and tiger-like expression; for energy, even in bad passions, always excites, mingled with astonishment, a sort of involuntary admiration.
'What a pity,' said I to myself on leaving Puygarey, 'that the wealth of so lovely a person should have rendered her the object of attraction to a man totally unworthy of her!'
On our return to Ille, not exactly knowing what to say to Madame Peyrade, to whom I thought it but civil occasionally to address a word: 'You are sensible people at Roussillon,' said I; 'how happens it that you are going to have a wedding on a Friday? At Paris we should be more superstitious; nobody would dare to marry on that day.'