“Dear cousin,” murmured Eugénie, letting the sheet fall, and, seizing one of the lighted candles, she hastened on tiptoe to her own room.
Once there, it was not without a keen feeling of pleasure that she opened one of the drawers in an old oak chest—a most beautiful specimen of the skill of the craftsmen of the Renaissance, you could still make out the half-effaced royal salamander upon it. From this drawer she took a large red velvet moneybag, with gold tassels, and the remains of a golden fringe about it, a bit of faded splendor that had belonged to her grandmother. In the pride of her heart she felt its weight, and joyously set to work to reckon up the value of her little hoard, sorting out the different coins. Imprimis, twenty Portuguese moidores as new and fresh as when they were struck in 1725, in the reign of John V; each was nominally worth five lisbonines, or a hundred and sixty-five francs, but actually they were worth a hundred and eighty francs (so her father used to tell her), a fancy value on account of the rarity and beauty of the aforesaid coins, which shone like the sun. Item, five genovines, rare Genoese coins of a hundred livres each, their current value was perhaps about eighty francs, but collectors would give a hundred for them. These had come to her from old M. de la Bertellière. Item, three Spanish quadruples of the time of Philip V, bearing the date 1729. Mme. Gentillet had given them to her, one by one, always with the same little speech: “There’s a little yellow bird, there’s a buttercup for you, worth ninety-eight livres! Take great care of it, darling; it will be the flower of your flock.” Item (and those were the coins that her father thought most of, for the gold was a fraction over the twenty-three carats), a hundred Dutch ducats, struck at the Hague in 1756, and each worth about thirteen francs. Item, a great curiosity! … a few coins dear to a miser’s heart, three rupees bearing the sign of the Balance, and five with the sign of the Virgin stamped upon them, all pure gold of twenty-four carats—the magnificent coins of the Great Mogul. The weight of metal in them alone was worth thirty-seven francs forty centimes, but amateurs who love to finger gold would give fifty francs for such coins as those. Item, the double napoleon that had been given to her the day before, and which she had carelessly slipped into the red velvet bag.
There were new gold pieces fresh from the mint among her treasures, real works of art, which old Grandet liked to look at from time to time, so that he might count them over and tell his daughter of their intrinsic value, expatiating also upon the beauty of the bordering, the sparkling field, the ornate lettering with its sharp, clean, flawless outlines. But now she gave not a thought to their beauty and rarity; her father’s mania, and the risks she ran by despoiling herself of a hoard so precious in his eyes, were all forgotten. She thought of nothing but her cousin, and managed at last to discover, after many mistakes in calculation, that she was the owner of eighteen hundred francs all told, or of nearly two thousand francs if the coins were sold for their actual value as curiosities.
She clapped her hands in exultation at the sight of her riches, like a child who is compelled to find some outlet for his overflowing glee and dances for joy. Father and daughter had both counted their wealth that night; he in order to sell his gold; she that she might cast it abroad on the waters of love. She put the money back into the old purse, took it up, and went upstairs with it without a moment’s hesitation. Her cousin’s distress was the one thought in her mind; she did not even remember that it was night, conventionalities were utterly forgotten; her conscience did not reproach her, she was strong in her happiness and her love.
As she stood upon the threshold with the candle in one hand and the velvet bag in the other, Charles awoke, saw his cousin, and was struck dumb with astonishment. Eugénie came forward, set the light on the table, and said with an unsteady voice—
“Cousin Charles, I have to ask your forgiveness for something I have done; it was very wrong, but if you will overlook it, God will forgive me.”
“What can it be?” asked Charles, rubbing his eyes.
“I have been reading those two letters.”
Charles reddened.
“Do you ask how I came to do it?” she went on, “and why I came up here? Indeed, I do not know now; and I am almost tempted to feel glad that I read the letters, for through reading them I have come to know your heart, your soul, and …”
“And what?” asked Charles.
“And your plans—the difficulty that you are in for want of money—”
“My dear cousin—”
“Hush! hush! do not speak so loud, do not let us wake anybody. Here are the savings of a poor girl who has no wants,” she went on, opening the purse. “You must take them,
