Then they went from jeweler to jeweler， searching fora necklace like the other， trying to recall it， both sick withchagrin and grief.
They found， in a shop at the Palais Royal， a string ofdiamonds that seemed to them exactly like the one they hadlost. It was worth forty thousand francs. They could have it forthirty-six.
So they begged the jeweler not to sell it for three days yet.
And they made a bargain that he should buy it back for thirty-four thousand francs， in case they should find the lost necklacebefore the end of February.
Loisel possessed eighteen thousand francs which his fatherhad left him. He would borrow the rest.
He did borrow， asking a thousand francs of one， five hundredof another， five louis here， three louis there. He gave notes，took up ruinous obligations， dealt with usurers and all therace of lenders. He compromised all the rest of his life， riskedsigning a note without even knowing whether he could meetit； and， frightened by the trouble yet to come， by the blackmisery that was about to fall upon him， by the prospect of allthe physical privations and moral tortures that he was to suffer，he went to get the new necklace， laying upon the jeweler’scounter thirty-six thousand francs.
When Madame Loisel took back the necklace MadameForestier said to her with a chilly manner：
“You should have returned it sooner； I might have neededit.”
She did not open the case， as her friend had so much feared.
If she had detected the substitution， what would she havethought， what would she have said？ Would she not have takenMadame Loisel for a thief？
Thereafter Madame Loisel knew the horrible existence of theneedy. She bore her part， however， with sudden heroism. Thatdreadful debt must be paid. She would pay it. They dismissedtheir servant； they changed their lodgings； they rented a garretunder the roof.
She came to know what heavy housework meant and theodious cares of the kitchen. She washed the dishes， using herdainty fingers and rosy nails on greasy pots and pans. Shewashed the soiled linen， the shirts and the dishcloths， whichshe dried upon a line； she carried the slops down to the streetevery morning and carried up the water， stopping for breathat every landing. And dressed like a woman of the people， shewent to the fruiterer， the grocer， the butcher， a basket on herarm， bargaining， meeting with impertinence， defending hermiserable money， sou by sou.
Every month they had to meet some notes， renew others，obtain more time.
Her husband worked evenings， making up a tradesman’saccounts， and late at night he often copied manu for fivesous a page.
This life lasted ten years.
At the end of ten years they had paid everything， everything，with the rates of usury and the accumulations of the compoundinterest.
Madame Loisel looked old now. She had become the womanof impoverished households—strong and hard and rough. Withfrowsy hair， skirts askew and red hands， she talked loud whilewashing the floor with great swishes of water. But sometimes，when her husband was at the office， she sat down near thewindow and she thought of that gay evening of long ago， ofthat ball where she had been so beautiful and so admired.
What would have happened if she had not lost that necklace？
Who knows？ who knows？ How strange and changeful is life！
How small a thing is needed to make or ruin us！
But one Sunday， having gone to take a walk in the ChampsElysees to refresh herself after the labors of the week， shesuddenly perceived a woman who was leading a child. It wasMadame Forestier， still young， still beautiful， still charming.
Madame Loisel felt moved. Should she speak to her？ Yes，certainly. And now that she had paid， she would tell her allabout it. Why not？
She went up.
“Good-day， Jeanne.”
The other， astonished to be familiarly addressed by this plaingood-wife， did not recognize her at all and stammered：
“But—madame！—I do not know—You must have
mistaken.”
“No. I am Mathilde Loisel.”
Her friend uttered a cry.
“Oh， my poor Mathilde！ How you are changed！”
“Yes， I have had a pretty hard life， since I saw you last， andgreat poverty—and that because of you！”
“Of me！ How so？”
“Do you remember that diamond necklace you lent me towear at the ministerial ball？”
“Yes. Well？”
“Well， I lost it.”
“What do you mean？ You brought it back.”
“I brought you back another exactly like it. And it has takenus ten years to pay for it. You can understand that it was noteasy for us， for us who had nothing. At last it is ended， and Iam very glad.”
Madame Forestier had stopped.
“You say that you bought a necklace of diamonds to replacemine？”
“Yes. You never noticed it， then！ They were very similar.”
And she smiled with a joy that was at once proud andingenuous.
Madame Forestier， deeply moved， took her hands.
“Oh， my poor Mathilde！ Why， my necklace was paste！ Itwas worth at most only five hundred francs！”
