Don Luis ceased speaking for a moment and leant over Essarès. Had the wretched man heard? Was he even alive? He looked as if he were in a faint, deprived of consciousness.
Don Luis shook him by the shoulder.
"The gold," moaned Essarès, "the bags of gold . . ."
"Oh, you're thinking of that, you old scoundrel, are you? You're still interested? The bags of gold are in my pocket . . . if a pocket can contain eighteen hundred bags of gold."
"The hiding–place?"
"Your hiding–place? It doesn't exist, so far as I'm concerned. I needn't prove it to you, need I, since Coralie's here? As Coralie was buried among the bags of gold, you can draw your own conclusion. So you're nicely done. The woman you wanted is free and, what is worse still, free by the side of the man whom she adores and whom she
