And this life lasted for ten years.
At the end of ten years, they had restored all, all, with interest of the usurer, and accumulated interest besides.
Mrs. Loisel seemed old now. She had become a strong, hard woman, the crude woman of the poor household. Her hair badly dressed, her skirts awry, her hands red, she spoke in a loud tone, and washed the floors in large pails of water. But sometimes, when her husband was at the office, she would seat herself before the window and think of that evening party of former times, of that ball where she was so beautiful and so flattered.
How would it have been if she had not lost that necklace? Who knows? Who knows? How singular is life, and how full of changes! How small a thing will ruin or save one!
******
One Sunday, as she was taking a walk in the Champs-Elysées to rid herself of the cares of the week, she suddenly perceived a woman walking with a child. It was Mrs. Forestier, still young, still pretty, still attractive. Mrs. Loisel was affected. Should she speak to her? Yes, certainly. And now that she had paid, she would tell her all. Why not? She approached her. "Good morning, Jeanne."
Her friend did not recognize her and was astonished to be so familiarly addressed by this common personage. She stammered:
"But, Madame—I do not know—You must be mistaken—"
"No, I am Matilda Loisel."
Her friend uttered a cry of astonishment: "Oh! my poor Matilda! How you have changed—"
"Yes, I have had some hard days since I saw you; and some miserable ones—and all because of you—"
"Because of me? How is that?"
"You recall the diamond necklace that you loaned me to wear to the Commissioner's ball?"
"Yes, very well."
"Well, I lost it."
"How is that, since you returned it to me?"
"I returned another to you exactly like it. And it has taken us ten years to pay for it. You can understand that it was not easy for us who have nothing. But it is finished and I am decently content."
Madame Forestier stopped short. She said:
"You say that you bought a diamond necklace to replace mine?"
"Yes. You did not perceive it then? They were just alike."
And she smiled with a proud and simple joy. Madame Forestier was touched and took both her hands as she replied:
"Oh! my poor Matilda! Mine were false. They were not worth over five-hundred francs!"
