For me, he had nothing but praise and gratitude for what I had done for him.

He begged me to forgive him, and his remorse for such a small thing, comparatively--wrung my heart.
We searched the garden and the whole street, then came back to search the little drawing-room for the second time, in vain.

It did seem that there was witchcraft in it, as I said to Raoul; but at last I persuaded him to go away, and follow his own track wherever he had been since I gave him the bag with the diamonds.

It was just possible, as it was so late, and his way had led him through quiet streets, that even after all this time the little brocade bag might be lying where he had left it--or that some honest policeman on his beat might have picked it up.

Besides, there was the cab in which he had come part of the distance to my house.
The bag might have fallen on the floor while he drove: and there were many honest cabmen in Paris, I reminded him, trying to be as cheerful as I could.
So he left me.