"Or--you haven't found _it_?"
He nodded his head, his face beatific with joy. He resembled the
youthful Saint George after slaying the dragon. She was startled. Her
eyes positively lightened; he listened for the attendant peal of
thunder.
"Speak out, you booby. Cornichon! Where did you find it? Let me see
it--at once." All fire and imperiousness, she held out grasping fingers.
He shook. And then carefully he drew from the inside pocket of his coat,
the purse. She snatched it. Yes--it was her purse. And yet there was
something strange about it. Had the stones been tampered with? She
examined it searchingly. She boasted a jeweller's knowledge of diamonds
and rubies. One of the stones had been transposed, that she could have
sworn. And how different the expression of the serpent's eyes--small
carbuncles. No--it was not her purse! She looked at Ambroise. He was
paling and reddening in rapid succession.
"It is _not_ my purse! How did this come into your possession? It is
very valuable, quite as valuable as mine. But the eyes of my serpent
were not so large--I mean the carbuncles.
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