When I asked where he had learned
it, he told me that he came of Dutch blood on his mother's side, and so
got his name of Elzevir; and that he could once speak in Dutch as readily
as in English, only that his mother dying when he was yet a boy he lost
something of the facility.
As the days passed, the memory of that dreadful morning at Carisbrooke
became dimmer to me, and my mind more cheerful or composed. I got the
diamond back from Elzevir, and had it out many times, both by day and by
night, and every time it seemed more brilliant and wonderful than the
last. Often of nights, after all the house was gone to rest, I would
lock the door of the room, and sit with a candle burning on the table,
and turn the diamond over in my hands. It was, as I have said, as big as
a pigeon's egg or walnut, delicately cut and faceted all over, perfect
and flawless, without speck or stain, and yet, for all it was so clear
and colourless, there flew out from the depth of it such flashes and
sparkles of red, blue, and green, as made one wonder whence these tints
could come. Thus while I sat and watched it I would tell Elzevir stories
from the _Arabian Nights_, of wondrous jewels, though I believe there
never was a stone that the eagles brought up from the Valley of
Diamonds, no, nor any in the Caliph's crown itself, that could excel
this gem of ours.
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