Five thousand dollars, five thousand dollars. Oh,
why couldn't it have come to me?" he cried, his voice choking, the
tears starting to his eyes; "why couldn't it have come to me? To come so
close, so close, and yet to miss me--me who have worked for it, fought
for it, starved for it, am dying for it every day. Think of it, Maria,
five thousand dollars, all bright, heavy pieces----"
"Bright as a sunset," interrupted Maria, her chin propped on her hands.
"Such a glory, and heavy. Yes, every piece was heavy, and it was all
you could do to lift the punch-bowl. Why, that punch-bowl was worth a
fortune alone----"
"And it rang when you hit it with your knuckles, didn't it?" prompted
Zerkow, eagerly, his lips trembling, his fingers hooking themselves into
claws.
"Sweeter'n any church bell," continued Maria.
"Go on, go on, go on," cried Zerkow, drawing his chair closer, and
shutting his eyes in ecstasy.
"There were more than a hundred pieces, and every one of them gold----"
"Ah, every one of them gold."
"You should have seen the sight when the leather trunk was opened.
There wa'n't a piece that was so much as scratched; every one was like
a mirror, smooth and bright, polished so that it looked black--you know
how I mean.
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