His finances were becoming increasingly difficult too. The income he earned, so cleverly managed by his wife, had in her day been sufficient for all the needs of the household. Now he could hardly make it do for one. Now that he could no longer afford it, he wondered how on earth she had always managed to provide him with the finest wines and keep such an excellent table.

Like many in reduced circumstances he ran up debts and tried to scrape together as much money as he could from any source. One morning, with not a sou to his name and a full week to go before the end of the month, he wondered if he should not perhaps try to sell something. He went immediately to fish out the baubles belonging to his wife. In his secret heart of hearts the tawdry things still managed to irritate him. The mere sight of them every day used to come between him and the memory of his beloved.

He spent a long time looking through the pile of trinkets she had left, for she had continued collecting right up to the end of her life and nearly every evening had come back with some new piece or other. He decided on a long necklace which had been one of her favourites. It must be worth at least six or eight francs he thought, because for an imitation piece the workmanship was very good. He put it in his pocket and went to the office at the Ministry via the boulevards, where he looked out for a reliable-looking jeweller.

At length he saw one and went in, a little ashamed of having to make such an open display of need by selling something so worthless.

‘Monsieur,’ he said to the dealer, ‘I’d like you to value this piece for me if you’d be so kind.’

The man took the article, examined it, turned it over, weighed it, took up a magnifying glass to look at it more closely, called his assistant, murmured a few words to him, put the necklace back on the counter and stepped back to see what it looked like from a distance. Monsieur Lantin was a little embarrassed by all this ceremony and was about to say, ‘Look, don’t worry, I’m pretty sure it’s got no value at all to it,’ when the jeweller announced: ‘Monsieur, I would put it at between 12,000 and 15,000 francs. However, I could not purchase it from you without knowing its exact provenance.’

The widower opened his eyes wide and gaped uncomprehendingly. Finally he stammered: ‘You’re saying … I mean, are you sure … ?’

The jeweller misinterpreted his astonishment and said crisply: ‘Of course Monsieur is perfectly free to try for a higher price elsewhere. But my best offer would be 15,000. Do come back later if you wish.’