Little Saint Elizabeth and Other Stories | Page 8

the thought had not been given to her.
But just as she laid her head upon her pillow it came. The ornaments given to her by her Aunt Clotilde somebody would buy them. They were her own--it would be right to sell them--to what better use could they be put? Was it not what Aunt Clotilde would have desired? Had she not told her stories of the good and charitable who had sold the clothes from their bodies that the miserable might be helped? Yes, it was right. These things must be done. All else was vain and useless and of the world. But it would require courage--great courage. To go out alone to find a place where the people would buy the jewels--perhaps there might be some who would not want them. And then when they were sold to find this poor and unhappy quarter of which her uncle's guest had spoken, and to give to those who needed--all by herself. Ah! what courage it would require. And then Uncle Bertrand, some day he would ask about the ornaments, and discover all, and his anger might be terrible. No one had ever been angry with her; how could she bear it. But had not the Saints and Martyrs borne everything? had they not gone to the stake and the rack with smiles? She thought of Saint Elizabeth and the cruel Landgrave. It could not be even so bad as that--but whatever the result was it must be borne.
So at last she slept, and there was upon her gentle little face so sweetly sad a look that when her maid came to waken her in the morning she stood by the bedside for some moments looking down upon her pityingly.
The day seemed very long and sorrowful to the poor child. It was full of anxious thoughts and plannings. She was so innocent and inexperienced, so ignorant of all practical things. She had decided that it would be best to wait until evening before going out, and then to take the jewels and try to sell them to some jeweller. She did not understand the difficulties that would lie in her way, but she felt very timid.
Her maid had asked permission to go out for the evening and Monsieur de Rochemont was to dine out, so that she found it possible to leave the house without attracting attention.
As soon as the streets were lighted she took the case of ornaments, and going downstairs very quietly, let herself out. The servants were dining, and she was seen by none of them.
When she found herself in the snowy street she felt strangely bewildered. She had never been out unattended before, and she knew nothing of the great busy city. When she turned into the more crowded thoroughfares, she saw several times that the passers-by glanced at her curiously. Her timid look, her foreign air and richly furred dress, and the fact that she was a child and alone at such an hour, could not fail to attract attention; but though she felt confused and troubled she went bravely on. It was some time before she found a jeweller's shop, and when she entered it the men behind the counter looked at her in amazement. But she went to the one nearest to her and laid the case of jewels on the counter before him.
"I wish," she said, in her soft low voice, and with the pretty accent, "I wish that you should buy these."
The man stared at her, and at the ornaments, and then at her again.
"I beg pardon, miss," he said.
Elizabeth repeated her request.
"I will speak to Mr. Moetyler," he said, after a moment of hesitation.
He went to the other end of the shop to an elderly man who sat behind a desk. After he had spoken a few words, the elderly man looked up as if surprised; then he glanced at Elizabeth; then, after speaking a few more words, he came forward.
"You wish to sell these?" he said, looking at the case of jewels with a puzzled expression.
"Yes," Elizabeth answered.
He bent over the case and took up one ornament after the other and examined them closely. After he had done this he looked at the little girl's innocent, trustful face, seeming more puzzled than before.
"Are they your own?" he inquired.
"Yes, they are mine," she replied, timidly.
"Do you know how much they are worth?"
"I know that they are worth much money," said Elizabeth. "I have heard it said so."
"Do your friends know that you are going to sell them?"
"No," Elizabeth said, a faint color rising in her delicate face. "But it is right that I should do it."
The man spent a few moments in examining them again and, having done so, spoke hesitatingly.
"I am afraid we cannot buy them," he said. "It would