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The False Gems
Guy de Maupassant
Monsieur Lantin had met the young girl at a reception at the house of the
second head of his department, and had fallen head over heels in love with her.
She was the daughter of a provincial tax collector, who had been dead several years. She
and her mother came to live in Paris, where the latter, who made the acquaintance of some
of the families in her neighborhood, hoped to find a husband for her daughter.
They had very moderate means, and were honorable, gentle, and quiet.
The young girl was a perfect type of the virtuous woman in whose hands every sensible
young man dreams of one day intrusting his happiness. Her simple beauty had the charm of
angelic modesty, and the imperceptible smile which constantly hovered about the lips
seemed to be the reflection of a pure and lovely soul. Her praises resounded on every side.
People never tired of repeating: "Happy the man who wins her love! He could not find a
better wife."
Monsieur Lantin, then chief clerk in the Department of the Interior, enjoyed a snug little
salary of three thousand five hundred francs, and he proposed to this model young girl, and
was accepted.
He was unspeakably happy with her. She governed his household with such clever economy
that they seemed to live in luxury. She lavished the most delicate attentions on her husband,
coaxed and fondled him; and so great was her charm that six years after their marriage,
Monsieur Lantin discovered that he loved his wife even more than during the first days of
their honeymoon.
He found fault with only two of her tastes: Her love for the theatre, and her taste for
imitation jewelry. Her friends (the wives of some petty officials) frequently procured for her
a box at the theatre, often for the first representations of the new plays; and her husband
was obliged to accompany her, whether he wished it or not, to these entertainments which
bored him excessively after his day's work at the office.
After a time, Monsieur Lantin begged his wife to request some lady of her acquaintance to
accompany her, and to bring her home after the theatre. She opposed this arrangement, at
first; but, after much persuasion, finally consented, to the infinite delight of her husband.
Now, with her love for the theatre, came also the desire for ornaments. Her costumes
remained as before, simple, in good taste, and always modest; but she soon began to adorn
her ears with huge rhinestones, which glittered and sparkled like real diamonds. Around her
neck she wore strings of false pearls, on her arms bracelets of imitation gold, and combs set
with glass jewels.
Her husband frequently remonstrated with her, saying:
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"My dear, as you cannot afford to buy real jewelry, you ought to appear adorned with your
beauty and modesty alone, which are the rarest ornaments of your sex."
But she would smile sweetly, and say:
"What can I do? I am so fond of jewelry. It is my only weakness. We cannot change our
nature."
Then she would wind the pearl necklace round her fingers, make the facets of the crystal
gems sparkle, and say:
"Look! are they not lovely? One would swear they were real."
Monsieur Lantin would then answer, smilingly:
"You have bohemian tastes, my dear."
Sometimes, of an evening, when they were enjoying a tete-a-tote by the fireside, she would
place on the tea table the morocco leather box containing the "trash," as Monsieur Lantin
called it. She would examine the false gems with a passionate attention, as though they
imparted some deep and secret joy; and she often persisted in passing a necklace around her
husband's neck, and, laughing heartily, would exclaim: "How droll you look!" Then she
would throw herself into his arms, and kiss him affectionately.
One evening, in winter, she had been to the opera, and returned home chilled through and
through. The next morning she coughed, and eight days later she died of inflammation of
the lungs.
Monsieur Lantin's despair was so great that his hair became white in one month. He wept
unceasingly; his heart was broken as he remembered her smile, her voice, every charm of
his dead wife.
Time did not assuage his grief. Often, during office hours, while his colleagues were
discussing the topics of the day, his eyes would suddenly fill with tears, and he would give
vent to his grief in heartrending sobs. Everything in his wife's room remained as it was
during her lifetime; all her furniture, even her clothing, being left as it was on the day of her
death. Here he was wont to seclude himself daily and think of her who had been his
treasure-the joy of his existence.
But life soon became a struggle. His income, which, in the hands of his wife, covered all
household expenses, was now no longer sufficient for his own immediate wants; and he
wondered how she could have managed to buy such excellent wine and the rare delicacies
which he could no longer procure with his modest resources.
He incurred some debts, and was soon reduced to absolute poverty. One morning, finding
himself without a cent in his pocket, he resolved to sell something, and immediately the
thought occurred to him of disposing of his wife's paste jewels, for he cherished in his heart
a sort of rancor against these "deceptions," which had always irritated him in the past. The
very sight of them spoiled, somewhat, the memory of his lost darling.
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To the last days of her life she had continued to make purchases, bringing home new gems
almost every evening, and he turned them over some time before finally deciding to sell the
heavy necklace, which she seemed to prefer, and which, he thought, ought to be worth
about six or seven francs; for it was of very fine workmanship, though only imitation.
He put it in his pocket, and started out in search of what seemed a reliable jeweler's shop.
At length he found one, and went in, feeling a little ashamed to expose his misery, and also
to offer such a worthless article for sale.
"Sir," said he to the merchant, "I would like to know what this is worth."
The man took the necklace, examined it, called his clerk, and made some remarks in an
undertone; he then put the ornament back on the counter, and looked at it from a distance to
judge of the effect.
Monsieur Lantin, annoyed at all these ceremonies, was on the point of saying: "Oh! I know
well 'enough it is not worth anything," when the jeweler said: "Sir, that necklace is worth
from twelve to fifteen thousand francs; but I could not buy it, unless you can tell me exactly
where it came from."
The widower opened his eyes wide and remained gaping, not comprehending the
merchant's meaning. Finally he stammered: "You say--are you sure?' The other replied,
drily: "You can try elsewhere and see if any one will offer you more. I consider it worth
fifteen thousand at the most. Come back; here, if you cannot do better."
Monsieur Lantin, beside himself with astonishment, took up the necklace and left the store.
He wished time for reflection.
Once outside, he felt inclined to laugh, and said to himself: "The fool! Oh, the fool! Had I
only taken him at his word! That jeweler cannot distinguish real diamonds from the
imitation article."
A few minutes after, he entered another store, in the Rue de la Paix. As soon as the
proprietor glanced at the necklace, he cried out:
"Ah, parbleu! I know it well; it was bought here."
Monsieur Lantin, greatly disturbed, asked:
"How much is it worth?"
"Well, I sold it for twenty thousand francs. I am willing to take it back for eighteen
thousand, when you inform me, according to our legal formality, how it came to be in your
possession."
This time, Monsieur Lantin was dumfounded. He replied:
"But--but--examine it well. Until this moment I was under the impression that it was
imitation."
The jeweler asked:
"What is your name, sir?"
"Lantin--I am in the employ of the Minister of the Interior. I live at number sixteen Rue des
Martyrs."
The merchant looked through his books, found the entry, and said: "That necklace was sent
to Madame Lantin's address, sixteen Rue des Martyrs, July 20, 1876."
The two men looked into each other's eyes--the widower speechless with astonishment; the
jeweler scenting a thief. The latter broke the silence.
"Will you leave this necklace here for twenty-four hours?" said he; "I will give you a
receipt."
Monsieur Lantin answered hastily: "Yes, certainly." Then, putting the ticket in his pocket,
he left the store.
He wandered aimlessly through the streets, his mind in a state of dreadful confusion. He
tried to reason, to understand. His wife could not afford to purchase such a costly ornament.
Certainly not.
But, then, it must have been a present!--a present!--a present, from whom? Why was it
given her?
He stopped, and remained standing in the middle of the street. A horrible doubt entered his
mind--She? Then, all the other jewels must have been presents, too! The earth seemed to
tremble beneath him--the tree before him to be falling; he threw up his arms, and fell to the
ground, unconscious. He recovered his senses in a pharmacy, into which the passers-by had
borne him. He asked to be taken home, and, when he reached the house, he shut himself up
in his room, and wept until nightfall. Finally, overcome with fatigue, he went to bed and fell
into a heavy sleep.
The sun awoke him next morning, and he began to dress slowly to go to the office. It was
hard to work after such shocks. He sent a letter to his employer, requesting to be excused.
Then he remembered that he had to return to the jeweler's. He did not like the idea; but he
could not leave the necklace with that man. He dressed and went out.
It was a lovely day; a clear, blue sky smiled on the busy city below. Men of leisure were
strolling about with their hands in their pockets.
Monsieur Lantin, observing them, said to himself: "The rich, indeed, are happy. With
money it is possible to forget even the deepest sorrow. One can go where one pleases, and
in travel find that distraction which is the surest cure for grief. Oh if I were only rich!"
He perceived that he was hungry, but his pocket was empty. He again remembered the
necklace. Eighteen thousand francs! Eighteen thousand francs! What a sum!
He soon arrived in the Rue de la Paix, opposite the jeweler's. Eighteen thousand francs!
Twenty times he resolved to go in, but shame kept him back. He was hungry, however--
very hungry--and not a cent in his pocket. He decided quickly, ran across the street, in order
not to have time for reflection, and rushed into the store.
The proprietor immediately came forward, and politely offered him a chair; the clerks
glanced at him knowingly.
"I have made inquiries, Monsieur Lantin," said the jeweler, "and if you are still resolved to
dispose of the gems, I am ready to pay you the price I offered."
"Certainly, sir," stammered Monsieur Lantin.
Whereupon the proprietor took from a drawer eighteen large bills, counted, and handed
them to Monsieur Lantin, who signed a receipt; and, with trembling hand, put the money
into his pocket.
As he was about to leave the store, he turned toward the merchant, who still wore the same
knowing smile, and lowering his eyes, said:
"I have--I have other gems, which came from the same source. Will you buy them, also?"
The merchant bowed: "Certainly, sir."
Monsieur Lantin said gravely: "I will bring them to you." An hour later, he returned with
the gems.
The large diamond earrings were worth twenty thousand francs; the bracelets, thirty-five
thousand; the rings, sixteen thousand; a set of emeralds and sapphires, fourteen thousand; a
gold chain with solitaire pendant, forty thousand--making the sum of one hundred and
forty-three thousand francs.
The jeweler remarked, jokingly:
"There was a person who invested all her savings in precious stones."
Monsieur Lantin replied, seriously:
"It is only another way of investing one's money."
That day he lunched at Voisin's, and drank wine worth twenty francs a bottle. Then he hired
a carriage and made a tour of the Bois. He gazed at the various turnouts with a kind of
disdain, and could hardly refrain from crying out to the occupants:
"I, too, am rich!--I am worth two hundred thousand francs."
Suddenly he thought of his employer. He drove up to the bureau, and entered gaily, saying:
"Sir, I have come to resign my position. I have just inherited three hundred thousand
francs."
He shook hands with his former colleagues, and confided to them some of his projects for
the future; he then went off to dine at the Cafe Anglais.
He seated himself beside a gentleman of aristocratic bearing; and, during the meal,
informed the latter confidentially that he had just inherited a fortune of four hundred
thousand francs.
For the first time in his life, he was not bored at the theatre, and spent the remainder of the
night in a gay frolic.
Six months afterward, he married again. His second wife was a very virtuous woman; but
had a violent temper. She caused him much sorrow.
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