"Good morning, Jeanne."

The other did not recognize her, and was surprised at being thus familiarly addressed by a poor woman.

"But...Madame..." she stammered. "I don‘t know...you must be making a mistake."

"No...I am Mathilde Loisel."

Her friend uttered a cry.

"Oh!...my poor Mathilde, how you have changed!..."

"Yes, I’ve had some hard times since I saw you last, and many sorrows . . . and all on your account."

"On my account! ...How was that?"

"You remember the diamond necklace you lent me for the ball at the Ministry?"

"Yes. Well?"

"Well, I lost it."

"How could you? Why, you brought it back."

"I brought you another one just like it. And for the last ten years we have been paying for it. You realize it wasn‘t easy for us; we had no money... Well, it‘s paid for at last, and I’m mighty glad."

Madame Forestier had halted.

"You say you bought a diamond necklace to replace mine?"

"Yes. You hadn‘t noticed it? They were very much alike."

And she smiled in proud and innocent happiness.

Madame Forestier, deeply moved, took her two hands.

"Oh my poor Mathilde! But mine was imitation. It was worth at the very most only five hundred francs!..."