and De Scuderi had fixed their eyes upon him astounded, the former
full of mistrust, the latter of anxious suspense as to what turn the
matter would take next; "but it is so. Merely out of love for my
beautiful handicraft I picked out all my best stones and gladly set to
work upon them, exercising more industry and care over them than I had
ever done over any stones before. A short time ago the ornaments
disappeared in some inconceivable way out of my workshop." "Thank
Heaven!" cried De Scuderi, whilst her eyes sparkled with joy, and she
jumped up from her chair as quick and nimble as a young girl; then
going up to Cardillac, she placed both her hands upon his shoulders,
and said, "Here, Master Rene, take your property back again, which
these rascally miscreants stole from you." And she related every detail
of how she had acquired possession of the ornaments, to all of which
Cardillac listened silently, with his eyes cast down upon the floor.
Only now and again he uttered an indistinct "Hm!--So!--Ho! ho!" now
throwing his hands behind his back, and now softly stroking his chin
and cheeks.

When De Scuderi came to the end of her story, Cardillac appeared to be
struggling with some new and striking thought which had occurred to him
during the course of it, and as though he were labouring with some
rebellious resolve that refused to conform to his wishes. He rubbed his
forehead, sighed, drew his hand across his eyes, as if to check tears
which were gushing from them. At length he seized the casket which De
Scuderi was holding out towards him, and slowly sinking upon one knee,
said, "These jewels have been decreed to you, my noble and respected
lady, by Destiny. Yes, now I know that it was you I thought about when
I was labouring at them, and that it was for you I worked. Do not
disdain to accept these ornaments, nor refuse to wear them; they are
indeed the best things I have made for a very long time." "Why, why,
Master Rene," replied De Scuderi, in a charming, jesting manner; "what
are you thinking about? Would it become me at my years to trick myself
out with such bright gems? And what makes you think of giving me such
an over-rich present? Nay, nay, Master Rene. Now if I were beautiful
like the Marchioness de Fontange,[16] and rich too, I assure you I
should not let these ornaments pass out of my hands; but what do these
withered arms want with vain show, and this covered neck with
glittering ornaments?" Meanwhile Cardi