The Blue Diamond by Joan Smith Page B

why not? You are lonesome—you see hardly anyone. Only Lord Moncrief, and he, my dear, is up to no good. He does not plan to marry you. He is another Herr Kruger in that regard,” she added.
    “No, his visits have nothing to do with lovemaking,” the girl answered, blushing softly.
    “No, of course they have not,” Maria said, observing the blush. “They have to do with politics I suppose, or do you two discuss philosophy and art? Monsieur Chabon is more romantical. A Frenchman too, you two would have a good deal in common.
    “I have nothing in common with Monsieur Chabon,” the girl said—quickly, angrily.
    “Oh dear, I have put my foot in it, have I not? He is a royalist of course. Never has a fair word to say of your beloved Napoleon. It is only that he is not—well, not so high in society, you know, that he would think to play fast and loose with you. He would make a husband is what I had in mind.”
    “I would sooner marry a dog. About the dinner at Poronovitch’s . . . I have a parcel for the Countess.”
    “How on earth did you meet her?” Maria asked.
    “I have not made her acquaintance. It is a matter of business—something I am selling her. Some jewelry. It was the jeweler, Eynard, who arranged the transaction. He showed her a pair of diamond earrings which she wishes to purchase. I was to take them to her this afternoon, but could not find a drive for love or money. If you would be kind enough to take them—you need not even bring back the cash. She can send it tomorrow, after she has had a chance to examine the wares.”
    “I don’t like to carry someone else’s valuables about, especially at this time, when the streets are full of so many foreigners.”
    “But who will know? And you will be safely guarded. You go with your father as well as Chabon, do you not? Why, I daresay you will be wearing your own diamond necklace, which is worth more than the earrings. The money is needed rather desperately,” she added, with a beseeching look.
    “How can you possibly need money? You just got five thousand for your ruby.”
    “The earrings do not belong to me. I do this for a friend. We—we French antiroyalists I mean—are all living hand to mouth these days. I have lent the most of that five thousand to my fellowmen, Miss Kruger. I am to be repaid with the money from the sale of the earrings.”
    “Oh Cécile! How unwise of you. You meant to live on that money. Really you are too foolishly generous. You make me ashamed of myself. Give me the earrings. I’ll take them for you.”
    “The jeweler still has them. He should be arriving any minute.”
    They chatted on till Eynard arrived. He was well known to Miss Kruger, having served her family over long years. He was a short, portly man with a hairline receding well past the middle of his head, despite which he still wore a jaunty appearance. His brows rose to see Fräulein Kruger so much at home in this shabby apartment. He cast a disapproving glance on her, wishing to inquire whether her father knew she was here, but not liking to do so before her hostess.
    He gave a small parcel to Miss Feydeau, which she unwrapped, holding the earrings up for examination. “The Countess Poronovitch has agreed to pay seven thousand pounds,” he explained. “She has not seen them, but buys them as an investment, upon my recommendation. It is a fair price. I have seldom seen finer white diamonds. Not a shade of yellow in them, even when they are breathed on and held to the light to examine the back facets. You know that old trick I daresay, Miss Kruger. Your Papa is well versed in all the tricks of the trade. He never buys a stone till he has examined it unmounted on a cloudless day, with a northern light. He will often hold a white paper behind it as well, to give him a better view. I have performed all these operations on your earrings, Mademoiselle. I am happy to certify them diamonds of the first water. If the Countess wishes them remounted, I have some