ial
peculiarities, he could so handle and treat them that ornaments which
at a first glance promised to be poor and insignificant, came from his
workshop brilliant and splendid. He accepted every commission with
burning eagerness, and charged prices so moderate as to seem out of all
proportion to the work. And the work left him no rest. Day and night he
was to be heard hammering in his shop; and often, when a job was nearly
finished, he would suddenly be dissatisfied with the form--would have
doubts whether some of the settings were tender enough; some little
link would not be quite to his mind--in fine, the whole affair would be
thrown into the melting-pot, and begun all over again. Thus every one
of his works was a real, unsurpassable _chef-d'[oe]uvre_, which set the
person who had ordered it into amazement. But then, it was hardly
possible to get the finished work out of his hands. He would put the
customer off from one week to another, by a thousand excuses, ay, from
month to month. He might be offered twice the price he had agreed upon,
but it was useless; he would take no more; and when, ultimately, he was
obliged to yield to the customer's remonstrances, and deliver the work,
he could not conceal the vexation--nay, the rage--which seethed within
him. If he had to deliver some specially valuable and unusually rich
piece of workmanship, worth perhaps several thousand francs, he would
get into such a condition that he ran up and down like one demented,
cursing himself, his work, and every thing and person about him; but
should, then, some one come running up behind him, crying, "Rene
Cardillac, would you be so kind as to make me a beautiful necklace for
the lady I am going to marry?" or "a pair of bracelets for my girl?" or
the like, he would stop in a moment, flash his small eyes upon the
speaker, and say, "Let me see what you have got." The latter would take
out a little case, and say, "Here are jewels; they are not worth much;
only every-day affairs; but in your hands----." Cardillac would
interrupt him, snatch the casket from his hands, take out the stones
(really not very valuable), hold them up to the light, and cry, "Ho!
ho! common stones you say! Nothing of the kind!--very fine, splendid
stones! Just see what I shall make of them; and if a handful of Louis
are no object to you, I will put two or three others along with them
which will shine in your eyes like the sun himself!" The customer would
say: "I leave