"Your treasure is in that box?" says the marquis.
Oliver nodded. He was very pale.
The marquis arose, and not only locked the door, but even covered the key-hole from the drilling of inquisitive eyes.
"Now, my dear child," said he, turning to Oliver with a smile, "let us see what we have in our box;" and he drew his chair again to the table beside which Oliver was standing.
They were both of them agitated—the marquis from expectancy, and Oliver from the great cast of the die of his life, which he had determined that day to make. The hand with which he unlocked the box was as cold as ice.
The contents of the box was covered with a layer of cotton. Oliver removed it, and then by two straps lifted out a shallow wooden tray covered with purple velvet, and filled with a glittering mass of diamonds of the purest water, nearly all of them large and fine. The marquis's eyes gleamed as brightly as the stones themselves.
Below the tray was another layer of cotton. Oliver removed it and then another tray; then another layer of cotton and another tray, until there were eight of them spread upon the table—it could hold no more.
"There are two more trays in the box," said Oliver, "but it is not necessary that I should show you them; these are sufficient."
The marquis did not reply; he was overwhelmed by what he beheld; it seemed to him that he saw the treasures of Golconda. Oliver observed his silence, and, looking up, saw that his face had grown white with the intensity of his emotions. At last he drew a deep breath, and raised his eyes to Oliver's; then feeling in his pocket, he drew forth his handkerchief and wiped his face. His voice was husky when he spoke. "But this vast, this unbelievable treasure," said he, "what security shall I give you if you intrust it to me to manage for you?"
The opportunity for Oliver's coup had arrived. The marquis himself had given him the very chance which he sought, but now that he was face to face with it, he trembled, he hesitated, he feared to put his happiness to the test of speech. Yet he knew that now or never was the time to cast the die of his hopes upon the table of fate. He braced himself, gathered all the force of his will, and as the blinding rush of resolution overwhelmed him, he saw only the marquis's face and the marquis's eyes looking into his.
"Your security," said he, hoarsely—and his voice sounded in his ears as though it was not his own—"your security—let it—let it be—your daughter."
The words were spoken. There came a long pause of deep, intense silence, through which Oliver could hear the throbbing blood singing in his ears. The marquis never moved a hair, but sat looking into Oliver's eyes. Oliver felt a dry, hard lump gather in his throat; he tried to swallow it. The marquis pushed back his chair and arose. Oliver's eyes dumbly followed his motion. The marquis began walking up and down the room, but he did not say "No." After a while he stopped before one of the windows and there stood a while, with his hands clasped behind him, looking out upon the lawn and the river beyond. Minute after minute passed in a straining tensity of silence. Oliver began to feel as though he could bear it no longer. Suddenly the marquis spoke:
"My daughter?" said he, half aloud and half to himself. The words meant nothing, but they were not words of refusal. Oliver felt a great wave of blinding hope sweep over him. Suddenly the marquis turned and came back to the table. He motioned Oliver to a chair. "Let us talk this matter over," said he, seriously, and they both sat down. Oliver's heart thumped within him like a trip-hammer. "Do you know," said the marquis, "what a thing it is that you ask? Do you know that you ask an alliance with one of the noblest houses of France?" Oliver could not answer. "And you," continued the marquis, "who are you? I do not know you; nobody knows you. You may be what you represent yourself to be; you may be an adventurer."
Oliver's heart was sinking like a plummet of lead. "My diamonds are real," he croaked.
"'DO YOU KNOW,' SAID THE MARQUIS, 'WHAT A THING IT IS THAT YOU ASK?'"
The marquis smiled, and then a long space of silence fell. At last he spoke again, and his words shot through Oliver's heart like a dart. "What settlement, then, would you propose to make upon your wife?" said he.
"Wife!" Oliver's heart thrilled with the sudden keenness of that pang of sharp delight. His brain whirled in an eddy of dizzy light. At last, with a supreme effort, he found his tongue. "Anything," he cried—"anything that you choose!"
The marquis smiled again. "We are ardent," said he. "I see that if this matter is to be carried forward, I must act not only as a father, but as a friend. I confess to you, Oliver, that I am deeply in debt, that Flourens is mortgaged to the last inch. Would you be willing to release Flourens, and then settle the estate upon your wife?"
"Yes," said Oliver, eagerly.
The marquis's smile grew wider than ever. "That is good," said he. "But you must know that you are one of the richest men in France, Oliver. You should do even more than that for your wife."
"I will settle upon her everything that I have in the world," said Oliver.
The marquis laughed. "Ah!" said he, "we are certainly too ardent—far too ardent. Half of your fortune would be sufficient; or three-quarters of it, at the most."
"She shall have either, as you may choose," said Oliver.
"I suppose," said the marquis, "that it will be best that I should manage her fortune for her?"
"Yes," said Oliver. "And you shall manage mine also, if you choose."
The marquis saw that there was no limit to Oliver's complacency. "And you will subscribe to that?" said he.
"Yes," said Oliver. "I am willing to subscribe to anything."
The marquis rose from the chair, and opened his arms. "Embrace me, my son," said he.
Oliver could have cried with happiness. "And may I," said he, tremulously, when the marquis had released him from his arms—"may I then—" He hesitated; he could not believe that he had reached such a dizzy pinnacle of happiness.
The marquis laughed. "You will find mademoiselle in the garden," said he.