The Princess opened her jewel-box.

“This evening, Nadine, I shall be pearls and diamonds!” exclaimed the lovely creature, as she fixed two large grey pearls in her ears.

“Oh, how beautiful you are, Princess! And what a lot they must have cost!” cried Nadine.

“Ten thousand francs, my child, on each side of my head!”

Sonia slipped on her fingers three diamond rings set in platinum.

“And here are eight or nine thousand francs more,” continued she, as Nadine’s eyes grew round with wonder: her mind could hardly grasp all these thousands of francs’ worth of diamonds and pearls. There were still more to come; for, rejecting a magnificent bracelet, on the basis that one no longer wore them at balls, the Princess smilingly bade her Circassian fasten round her neck a superb triple collar of pearls. To this was added a sparkling cascade of diamonds. Never had Nadine seen her beautiful mistress so richly dressed. Thus adorned, in Nadine’s eyes, Sonia Danidoff was dazzlingly beautiful, exquisitely lovely.

“You look like the Holy Virgin on the icons!” stammered Nadine, kneeling before her mistress, quite overcome by emotion.

“Good heavens! That is blasphemy! I am only a humble human creature!” said the Princess, smiling. Then she once more looked at herself in the mirrors, well satisfied with her appearance, certain of the effect she would produce on her future husband, Thomery. She threw over her shoulders a superb mantle of zibeline, which was really needed, for, though it was the middle of April, it was quite cold. Then, ready at last, she descended to her motor-car, and was whirled away to the ball.

*****

“Cranajour!... Cranajour!”

Mother Toulouche shouted herself breathless : she tried to shout louder and louder. It was in vain. She might as well shout herself hoarse – there was no reply.

The old biddy, who had left the front of her hovel and had gone to call her assistant, shouting in the passage at the back of the store, returned cursing and swearing, and seated herself near the stove in the lean-to which did duty as a kitchen.

“Where in the devil’s name has that imbecile got to?” she grumbled, whilst sipping with gusto from the bottom of a cup, into which she had poured a small allowance of coffee and a copious ration of rum. It was about eleven in the evening. There was not a sound to be heard. Having finished her rum and tea, the old receiver of stolen goods went to the entrance of the passage:

“Cranajour!... Cranajour!” yelled the old hag.

There was no answer.

“He can’t possibly be in his canteen,” said Mother Toulouche to herself. “If he was he’d have answered, fool though he is, and would have come down!... Surely he’s gone to drag his old carcass somewhere – but where?... Oh, well, we can manage to do without him!”