"Ocielo! it is nothing.
But Bettina is at home without bread, poor little one! Will you
not give three dollar?"
"Not a cent more."
"I will take it."
"There's your money and ticket."
And with these the poor Italian departed, giving one last
lingering glance at his precious violin, as Eliakim took it
roughly and deposited it upon a shelf behind him. But he thought
of his little daughter at home, and the means of relief which he
held in his hand, and a smile of joy lightened his melancholy
features. The future might be dark and unpromising, but for
three days, at any rate, she should not want bread.
Paul's turn came next.
"What have you got?" asked the pawnbroker.
Paul showed the ring.
Eliakim took it, and his small, beadlike eyes sparkled
avariciously as he recognized the diamond, for his experience was
such that he could form a tolerably correct estimate of its
value. But he quickly suppressed all outward manifestations of
interest, and said, indifferently, "What do you want for it?"
"I want twenty dollars," said Paul, boldly.
"Twenty dollars!" returned the pawnbroker. "That's a joke."
"No, it isn't," said Paul. "I want twenty dollars, and you can't
have the ring for less.
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