then, and I may believe it in every particular."

"See, sir," replied Caderousse, "in this corner is a crucifix in holy
wood--here on this shelf is my wife's testament; open this book, and I
will swear upon it with my hand on the crucifix. I will swear to you by
my soul's salvation, my faith as a Christian, I have told everything to
you as it occurred, and as the recording angel will tell it to the ear
of God at the day of the last judgment!"

"'Tis well," said the abbe, convinced by his manner and tone that
Caderousse spoke the truth. "'Tis well, and may this money profit you!
Adieu; I go far from men who thus so bitterly injure each other."
The abbe with difficulty got away from the enthusiastic thanks of
Caderousse, opened the door himself, got out and mounted his horse, once
more saluted the innkeeper, who kept uttering his loud farewells, and
then returned by the road he had travelled in coming. When Caderousse
turned around, he saw behind him La Carconte, paler and trembling more
than ever. "Is, then, all that I have heard really true?" she inquired.

"What? That he has given the diamond to us only?" inquired Caderousse,
half bewildered with joy; "yes, nothing more true! See, here it is." The
woman gazed at it a moment, and then said, in a gloomy voice, "Suppose
it's false?" Caderousse started and turned pale. "False!" he muttered.
"False! Why should that man give me a false diamond?"

"To get your secret without paying for it, you blockhead!"

Caderousse remained for a moment aghast under the weight of such an
idea. "Oh!" he said, taking up his hat, which he placed on the red
handkerchief tied round his head, "we will soon find out."

"In what way?"

"Why, the fair is on at Beaucaire, there are always jewellers from Paris
there, and I will show it to them. Look after the house, wife, and I
shall be back in two hours," and Caderousse left the house in haste,
and ran rapidly in the direction opposite to that which the priest had
taken. "Fifty thousand francs!" muttered La Carconte when left alone;
"it is a large sum of money, but it is not a fortune."

Chapter 28. The Prison Register.

The day after that in which the scene we have just described had taken
place on the road between Bellegarde and Beaucaire, a man of about
thirty or two and thirty, dressed in a bright blue frock coat, nankeen
trousers, and a white waistcoat, having the appearance and accent of
an Englishman, presented himself before the