advanced towards the artisan, who was
looking at him with as much surprise as indignation.

Through the door, left a little ajar, might be seen the villainous,
watchful, and cunning face of the young scamp Tortillard, who, having
followed these strangers unknown to them, was sneaking after, spying,
and listening to them.

"What do you want?" inquired the lapidary, abruptly, disgusted at the
coarseness of these fellows.

"Jerome Morel?" said Bourdin.

"I am he!"

"Working lapidary?"

"Yes."

"You are quite sure?"

"Quite sure. But you are troublesome, so tell me at once your business,
or leave the room."

"Really, your politeness is remarkable! Much obliged! I say, Malicorne,"
said the man, turning to his comrade, "there's not so much fat to cut at
here as there was at that 'ere Viscount de Saint-Remy's."

"I believe you; but when there is fat, why the door's kept shut in your
face, as we found in the Rue de Chaillot. The bird had hopped the twig,
and precious quick, too, whilst such vermin as these hold on to their
cribs like a snail to his shell."

"I believe you; well, the stone jug just suits such individuals."

"The sufferer (creditor) must be a good fellow, for it will cost him
more than it's worth; but that's his lookout."

"If," said Morel, angrily, "you were not drunk, as you seem to be, I
should be angry with you. Leave this apartment instantly!"

"Ha! ha! He's a fine fellow with his elegant curve," said Bourdin,
making an insulting allusion to the contorted figure of the poor
lapidary. "I say, Malicorne, he has cheek enough to call this an
apartment,--a hole in which I would not put my dog."

"Oh, dear! oh, dear!" exclaimed Madeleine, who had been so frightened
that she could not say a word before. "Call for assistance; perhaps they
are rogues. Take care of your diamonds!"

And, seeing these two ill-looking strangers come closer to his
working-bench, on which his precious stones were still lying, Morel,
fearful of some evil intentions, ran towards the table, and covered the
jewels with his two hands.

Tortillard, still on the watch, caught at Madeleine's words, observed
the movement of the artisan, and said to himself:

"Ha! ha! ha! So they said he was a lapidary of sham stones; if they were
mock he would not be afraid of being robbed; this is a good thing to
know. So Mother Mathieu, who comes here so often, is a matcher of _real_
stones, after all, and has real diamonds in her basket;