Monsieur le Cure's cassock seemed a cabinet of oddities.

First he pulled from this ingenious hiding-place a crucifix, which he replaced; then a knot of white ribbon, which he also restored; and, finally, a tiny pocket or bag of what had been cream-coloured satin, embroidered with small bunches of heartsease, and which was aromatic with otto of roses.

Awkwardly, and somewhat slowly, he drew out of this a small locket, in the centre of which was some unreadable legend in cabalistic-looking character, and which blazed with the finest diamonds.

Heaven alone knows the secret of that gem, or the struggle with which the priest yielded it.

He put it into Antoine's hand, talking as he did so partly to himself and partly to the gaoler.
"We brought nothing into this world, and it is certain we can carry nothing out.