Take the diamond, then, and sell it; it is worth fifty thousand francs, and I repeat my wish that this sum may suffice to release you from your wretchedness." "Oh, sir," said Caderousse, putting out one hand timidly, and with the other wiping away the perspiration which bedewed his brow,--"Oh, sir, do not make a jest of the happiness or despair of a man." "I know what happiness and what despair are, and I never make a jest of such feelings.

Take it, then, but in exchange--" Caderousse, who touched the diamond, withdrew his hand.

The abbe smiled.
"In exchange," he continued, "give me the red silk purse that M.Morrel left on old Dantes' chimney-piece, and which you tell me is still in your hands." Caderousse, more and more astonished, went toward a large oaken cupboard, opened it, and gave the abbe a long purse of faded red silk, round which were two copper runners that had once been gilt.

The abbe took it, and in return gave Caderousse the diamond.
"Oh, you are a man of God, sir," cried Caderousse; "for no one knew that Edmond had given you this diamond, and you might have kept it." "Which," said the abbe to himself, "you would have done." The abbe rose, took his hat and gloves.

"Well," he said, "all you have told me is perfectly true, then, and I may believe it in every particular." "See, sir," replied Caderousse, "in this corner is a crucifix in holy wood--here on this shelf is my wife's testament; open this book, and I will swear upon it with my hand on the crucifix.