"For the present," said Oliver, "yes. We have been very poor, my mother and I." He paused. The marquis's eyes were resting intently upon him, and he felt that the other waited for further explanation. He had already arranged a story, but now that the time had come to tell it, his courage almost failed. "My uncle," said he at last, "came back from America about a year ago, and found us very poor--my mother and me. He was rich." Again he paused for a moment, and then continued: "He came from Brazil, where he was the owner of a diamond mine."
"But this uncle of yours," said the marquis, "where is he now?"
"He is dead," said Oliver. "He is in heaven."
Oliver's mother heard what he said through all the buzzing of the thoughts in her head. "So, then," thought she to herself, "my brother-in-law is dead, is he?"
"I?" said Oliver. "I have inherited his fortune. It is all in diamonds."
Madame Munier pricked up her ears. She was growing interested. Her Oliver, then, had inherited a fortune.
"And your uncle's name--what was it?" said the marquis.
"His name?" said Oliver. "His name was Henri, the Chevalier de Monnière-Croix."
"The devil!" whispered Oliver's mother to herself. "I did not know that we were so well connected." She was past being surprised at anything now.
"De Monnière-Croix?" repeated the marquis. "De Monnière-Croix? The name is not familiar."
"Perhaps not," said Oliver. "My uncle was very young--a mere child--when he went to America, and for the twelve months past since his return to France he and I have been living quietly together in Paris, where he was engaged in settling his affairs."
The marquis was looking steadily at him. "Is your family of long descent?" said he.
"Not very; as I said, my father was very poor; you know, monseigneur, how sadly poor people of good family may be in the country--" He hesitated, and then stopped.
"But," said the marquis, presently, "you say your uncle is dead. Had he, then, no other heirs than you? Had he no children?"
"It is one of the greatest fortunes in France."
As the marquis rode back again to the château he sat in the corner of the coach, meditating deeply over all that he had seen and heard. "The Chevalier de Monnière-Croix," he muttered to himself--"the Chevalier de Monnière-Croix." Then he suddenly aroused himself from his meditations, thrust his thumb and finger into his waistcoat pocket, and drew out the diamond that Oliver had given him. He held it in a dozen different lights, examining it keenly and critically. Finally he thrust it back again into the pocket whence he had taken it. "At least," said he, "his diamonds are real. Why, then, should he not be of noble family if he chooses? A half a million livres' worth of diamonds, and that, as he tells me, only a small part of his wealth! Very well, then, his uncle was a chevalier and he is a prince--the Prince de Golconda, if he chooses."