"Oh, yes," said Donald, too full of his errand to be conscious that he was not speaking French, as he carefully took a little red velvet case from an inside pocket, "I wished to show you this necklace--to ask if you--"
The old man listened with rather an aggrieved air. "Ah! Eh! I sall re-paire it, you say?" then adding wistfully, "You no speak ze French?"
"Oui, oui, Monsieur,--pardonnez," said Donald, thus reminded. From that moment he and the now radiant Monsieur Bajeau got on finely together, for Donald's French was much better than Monsieur's English; and, in truth, the young man was very willing to practise speaking it in the retirement of this quaint little shop. Their conversation shall be translated here, however.
"Have you ever seen this before, sir?" asked Donald, taking the precious necklace from the box and handing it to him over the little counter.
"No," answered the shop-keeper, shaking his head as he took the trinket. "Ah! that is very pretty. No, not a very old chain. It is modern, but very odd--very fine--unique, we say. Here are letters," as he turned the clasp and examined its under side. "What are they? They are so small. Your young eyes are sharp. Eh?" Here Monsieur bent his head and looked inquiringly at Donald from over his spectacles.
"Ah, yes! D. R.; now I see," as he turned them to the light. "D. R.,--that is strange! Now, I think I have seen those same engraved letters before. Why, my young friend, as I look at this little chain, something carries the years away and I am a younger man. It brings very much to mind--Hold!--No, it is all gone now. I must have made a mistake."
"No, no, never. I never made a chain like it--but I have seen that chain before. The clasp is very--very--You know how it opens?"
"It is rusty inside," explained Donald, leaning forward anxiously, lest it should be injured. "We need not open it." Then controlling his excitement, he asked as calmly as he could:
"The key that opens the clasp," returned the Frenchman, with sudden impatience. This American boy began to appear rather stupid in Monsieur's eyes. Donald looked at him in amazement.
"Does it lock?" echoed Monsieur. "Why, see here;" and with these words he tried to press the upper part of the clasp aside. It stuck at first, but finally yielded, sliding around from the main part on an invisible little pivot, and disclosing a very small key-hole.