# Stories told to a child/Chapter 11

THE MOORISH GOLD.
A LONG while ago, says the legend, when the dominion of the Moors was beginning to decline in Spain, it was rumored on a certain day, in Toledo, that the Christians were coming down in great force to besiege the city, and had vowed that they would desecrate the Mosque, and despoil it of its gold and jewels—that they would fight their way over the bridge of the Tagus, and bear away the choicest of its treasures from the great Alcazar of Toledo.
But a few days before these tidings arrived, a marvellous stupor had come upon the Moorish masters of the city; some said it was the heat, but they had never cared for the heat before, since they came from a hotter region. They walked about, it is true, but it was slowly, and in the great shadows of their houses, and if any man crossed over the street, he held his hand to his forehead and sighed. A few were so faint that they lay down to rest on the steps of the Alcazar; they thought the scent of the pomegranate flowers oppressed them, though none had complained of this scent before. Others believed that it was a thin vapor which rose up in the heat from the glassy bosom of ​the Tagus, and spread out like steam above the highest roofs, making the sun look red and fiery.
In spite of this, says the legend, they set about defending themselves; and the danger being imminent, they shipped great store of costly merchandise, with jewels, and gold, and coined money, on board their vessels, which lay in the Tagus, and sent them off, to the number of five, with orders to drop down the river, double the Cape St. Vincent, and sail up the Guadalquivir, that their precious lading might be given over into the keeping of the Moorish King of Seville.
But alas, says the legend, of those five fair vessels, not one ever cast anchor before the walls of Seville, for a great wind took them, scattered and drove them northward as soon as they were clear of the Tagus, and it is supposed that four of the five foundered with their crews and their lading, for they never were heard of more.
It was supposed so, says the legend, but the Moorish masters of Toledo had little time to fret themselves for their sunken treasure, since that same week the plague appeared, and while the Christians were harassing them without, they lay in the still heat and perished in the streets by hundreds and by thousands within.
One vessel was left, and day after day, in the wind and the storm, she drove still farther northward, and that strange lethargy had crept on board with the sailors, though now there was neither any heat, nor scent of pomegranate flowers, to plead as a reason for it. And now the white cliffs of a great island were visible, and they said to themselves that they should ​never behold the sunny country of Spain any more, but be cast ashore at the end of the earth, in the kingdom of William the Norman.
Still the north wind raged, and the foaming billows broke—that was a long and fearful gale: some of the sailors died at the oar, but it was neither hunger nor toil that killed them; and when at last the wind dropped suddenly, and the vessel drifted on to a sandy shore, only three men sprang out from her. There were but three survivors, for the plague had come on board with them and their treasure.
These three men sprang ashore; they landed one coffer filled with gold, precious stones, and coined money. It was as much as their failing strength could do. The islanders fell back from them, for they had seen the dark faces of the dead Moors as they lay in the plague-stricken vessel. They did not molest the sailors, but let them sit alone on the shore bemoaning their fate till night came on, and their vessel at high tide drifted out again to sea, while these three desolate men took up the coffer and went inland, up and up, among the Cumberland hills.
It was as much as they could carry, but no man cared to help. They wandered about among the mountains, and the last time they were seen, it was apparent that they had hidden their treasure in some cavern, or sunk it in the earth, or heaved a stone upon it; for the coffer was gone. Soon after, the men disappeared also; but whether they perished among the rocks, or died of the plague, none could tell; but though many and many a cavern has been searched, and many a stone displaced, from that day to this, ​says the legend, no man has ever set eyes upon the glittering Moorish gold.
So much for legend; now for more authentic narrative.
An old gentleman sat in a boat on one of the loveliest of the English lakes, and looked up at the mountains with delight.
'Glorious!' he exclaimed; 'superb! it beats Switzerland out and out.'
Whether he was right is nothing to the purpose, but he said it. He was stout, had a red face, blue spectacles, and a straw hat tied to his button-hole with black ribbon.
Now, when he exclaimed, 'It beats Switzerland out and out!' his footman sitting opposite to him, and thinking the observation called for an answer, replied, with prompt respect, 'Certainly, sir, no doubt.'
Thereupon his master looked at his fat white face, which expressed no manner of enthusiasm, but rather showed an absorbing interest in the provision basket which he held on his knee.
'Pray, Richard,' said the old gentleman, 'do you take any pleasure in the beauties of Nature?' Richard pondered, and answered as before, respectfully, 'Not in particular, sir.'
'It's for want of knowing more about them,' said his master, good-humoredly; 'to-morrow I am going up a mountain to see such a view as everybody must delight in—you shall go too.'
Richard touched his hat.
The next morning the old gentleman, with two others, quite as enthusiastic, but by no means so fat, ​and with a guide, and two hampers containing patties, pigeon-pies, hard-boiled eggs, potted salmon, new bread and butter, and water-cresses, set off, his servant accompanying him, to see the beauties of Nature among the mountains.
How many times the gentlemen exclaimed, 'Glorious! hot day! fine view! lovely scenery!' it is impossible to say. How many times the footman wished himself at home, cleaning his plate, waiting at table, or doing anything in the world but climbing a mountain, it is also impossible to say. Happily for him the path got so steep, and the day got so hot, that all at once the gentlemen bethought themselves of luncheon, and decided that the very spot where they then stood was the right one to take it in.
So the guide, not by any means disinclined to rest, led them a little aside, and turning the angle of a steep rock, suddenly introduced them to a little quiet nook enclosed with high rocks. It was about the size, Richard thought, of the back parlor at home, only it was open to the sky, and its walls were hung with foxgloves, broom, tufts of heath in blossom, and a few trailing eglantines, instead of pictures and looking-glasses. How still the place was, and how blue the sky above!
'Well, Richard,' said his master, 'what did you think of the view?'
Richard replied as before, respectfully, 'That he had been wondering at it all the way up; everything below looked so small, in particular the hay-stacks; the round ones, he observed, had reminded him of queen-cakes, and the square ones of penny ​sponge-cakes or quartern loaves, just exactly that shape, and certainly no bigger.'
His master was disappointed to find that Richard's comparison was queer enough to make both the other gentlemen laugh—not, however, at the footman, but at his master, for expecting him to relish the scenery. They soon rose from their lunch. It was a sin, they said, to waste the sweet weather in that nook; they should go higher; but Richard might stay behind, if he liked, and pack the baskets; if he had not had enough to eat either, his master said he was to help himself.
'Thank you, sir, I'm sure,' said Richard, gratefully.
Accordingly, when they were gone, he did pack the baskets, regaling himself with many a tit-bit meanwhile. This pleasing duty fulfilled, he stretched himself under the steep sandstone walls of his roofless room, basked in the hot sun, looked up into the glowing sky, whistled, and fanned himself with some twigs of broom, which were covered thick with flowers like yellow butterflies.
A thicket of broom bushes grew against the side of the rock, and as he stretched out his hand to one of them to pull off another bough, the bush swung back to its place, and a bird flew out so close to him that she swept his forehead with her wings.
He peeped into the bush. Yes, it was, as he had thought, a nest—as pretty as moss and feathers could make it; and with four pink eggs in it, quite warm and half transparent; he parted the thick branches of the broom, and as he held them so, a sunbeam struck between them, and showed a little hole in the rock ​close to the ground; it looked, he thought, much as the arch of a bridge might look, if the river beneath was so high as to reach within a few inches of the key-stone. He pushed himself further into the broom, and with his hands idly swept down the soft sand, and let it slide down a little rise till it had buried to their heads some tall bluebells that grew there. Then he noticed that the arch, as more of it became disclosed, was very regular for a natural opening, and as the sand slipped away, it revealed the top of what seemed a worm-eaten wooden door, which fitted it with toleraable accuracy. Nearly a foot of this door was visible, when Richard, impatient to know what was behind it, took a stone, and striking the old wood with some force, drove in a small portion of it. He withdrew his head that the light might shine into it; there was a deep cavity, and a narrow sunbeam entering, glittered and trembled upon something which lay on the sand in a heap within, and was red and fiery.
His heart beat quick, his eyes became accustomed to the dim light within, he could see bags lying side by side; one of them had burst open, its contents were large coins—surely gold coins—the sunbeam was red upon their rims; yes, they were gold, they were unknown, they were unclaimed, they were his!
He withdrew his eyes. The broom boughs swung back again and concealed the opening; he sat down, propped his head upon his hands, and a whirling, wondering sense of possession, together with a suffocating fear that he should never be able to grasp all his treasure unshared, strove within him, and threw him into such a fever of excitement, that for a while he could ​scarcely move or breathe. At last he mastered these feelings, forced himself again into the thicket, and thought he should never be satisfied with staring in again and again at the glittering, gleaming gold.
Incalculable riches, and all to be his own!
Yes, all; he had heard of such people as Lords of the Manor, his master was one down in the south, but Richard did not mean to consider the law; they should all be his own. He would secure them, buy a fine house, and eat, drink, and dress of the very best. He exulted, as in that quiet nook alone he capered and laughed aloud; then he sat down and began to arrange his thoughts.
Let us see, should he open his heart and share them with his brother? Share them! nonsense; no. What had his brother done for him? Why, only this—when Richard was out of place this brother gave him two sovereigns out of his own wages, and afterwards he spared with difficulty five shillings more. Now his brother never expected to see it again. Well, Richard decided to exceed his expectations; he would return it, every farthing: possibly he might give him another sovereign besides. Then there were his two sisters. As to the elder, she certainly had been very good to him; she had many children, and worked hard, yet when Richard was taken ill she had nursed him, and sheltered him, and sat up with him at night; she had been a true and tried friend to him. Well, he would reward her; he would send her all his clothes; for of course he should in future dress like a gentleman. He would also send her five pounds. No; what would be the use of that? Her drunken husband would only ​squander it all away; perhaps, instead of that, he would adopt one of her boys—that would be so good, so generous, it would surely be full payment. Or, perhaps it would be better to pay his schooling, and let him live at home; if he were brought into a fine house he might grow presumptuous; yes, it would be better to pay for his schooling, and now and then to send him some cast-off clothes. Then there was his other sister. Why, she had never done anything particular for him, so there was no reason why he should for her.
And his parents? It certainly would be his duty to allow them something, and he should do it. His father, as he heard from home, was getting very feeble, and could hardly earn five shillings a week by the chance work he did for the farmers, for he was past regular day-labor. His mother had been used to go out washing, but lately she had often been laid up with the rheumatism. A regular allowance should it be? Why, look what a sum horses and carriages cost; perhaps a present each quarter would be better; tea for his mother, and tobacco for his father. Yes, that would be better; his mother could make a little go a long way, and he would send a blanket also. No pledging himself to allowances; he might find that money would not go so far as he expected. Why, Squire Thorndike was always deep in debt, and he had four thousand a year. Sir Thomas Ludlow was known to be in difficulties, poor gentleman! He said free trade had made his means so small. Ah! free trade was a very hard thing; he should find it hard himself, when he had land, as of course he meant to ​have. He would send his parents something sometimes—not regularly—lest it should be supposed that he bound himself to continue it, which he might not be able to do. For of course he should have shares like other people in these railways—he might lose a great deal of money by them, as his master had done; he might by such means become quite poor again; and then how cruel it would seem to the old people to stop their money! He would send them something or other as soon as he knew himself what he was worth. Well, he was happy to say he had a generous mind, and did his duty to everybody that belonged to him.
Thus he sat and reflected till he had decided all this and more; he then peered through once more at his treasures, and having feasted his eyes sufficiently, contrived by means of a long stick to pull up two of the gold pieces. They were as large as silver crowns. He handled them, and turned them over. The whole, now he had part in his power, seemed doubly his own, but he knew that gold was heavy; he could count upwards of twenty of these bags; each, for aught he knew, might contain hundreds of gold pieces; and besides that, jewels glittered here and there, which he shrewdly suspected to be diamonds.
He heard voices at a distance, and hastened to emerge from his thicket of broom, first carefully putting the coins and a jewel in his waistcoat pocket. Covetousness grew stronger in his soul, and his breath came quick, and all his pulses throbbed with anxiety, lest he should not be able to secure and conceal the whole of the treasure for himself. The tourists ​returned, and Richard, as he followed them down the mountain, was so absorbed, that he was constantly treading on their heels. Afterwards, when he waited at table, his master thought the air must have intoxicated him, for he handed him powdered sugar to eat with his fish, salad with his gooseberry tart, and set a pat of butter on table with the dessert. Right glad was Richard when the work of the day was over, and he could retire to think upon his good fortune, and examine his spoils. They had been a very cumbersome possession to him, and had inspired him with an almost irresistible desire to be always feeling in his pocket to ascertain if they were safe, and a constant fear lest they should chink together and be heard.
Now, he thought, what must he do? Should he leave his master's service at once, buy some boxes, and, going up the mountain every day by himself, bring down by degrees the contents of that little cavern till all was secured? No, that would be a suspicious mode of proceeding; people would think the footman was mad, or, if he paid for what he wanted in ancient gold coins, they would suspect, watch, discover, and either betray him or insist upon sharing the spoils. He never doubted that there was a Lord of the Manor in those parts, and if so, he must be very secret, as of course these riches belonged of right to him.
No, it would not do to leave his master at once; far better to go south with him as far as the busy city of B———, where he was going to stay with a very learned old gentleman, a friend of his, who had a large collection of curiosities and dusty stones, shells, stuffed ​animals, and other such gear. He should have a great deal of leisure there, and would be a likely place to dispose of his coins in, for his master would be busy with his friend tapping stones in the country with tiny hammers, magnifying sand, and bottling tadpoles in proof spirits.
Not to trouble my reader with accounts of how Richard visited his treasures again by night, and in coming down was very nearly discovered; how he went again, and was very nearly falling over a precipice; how he forgot his duties, was disrespectful, and recklessly whistled as he followed his master; how he entertained the project of shortly changing his name, and conned 'The Peerage and Baronetage of England' to find a grand and uncommon one; how conveniently he thought this plan would hide him from all those who had a claim upon him; how he had compunctions on this head, and overcame them with the thought of how much his poor relations would expect of him if they knew about his riches; how the landlady declared him to be the 'braggingest' young man she had ever met with; how he carelessly neglected his master's luggage at B———, by reason whereof it went down the line to London, and thence to Dover; and how he spent the first two days of the visit in staring out of the hall window, I pass on to say that never was there an old gentleman so fond of old wood carving, old stained glass, old china, old marbles, old mail, old books, old prints, old pictures, and old coins, as this very old gentleman, this friend of Richard's master.
On the third day Richard slipped out, and going ​into a back street soon found a shop that he thought suited to his purpose. Here, after a little beating about the bush, he produced his coins and his diamond, and after a little hesitation on the part of the shopman, received eighteen guineas for the stone and one coin—far less than they were worth; but the man would not give more.
On returning, he was told that his master had been ringing for him; he ran upstairs in some trepidation, and found the two old gentlemen examining a large cabinet full of coins. 'Richard,' said his master, 'I want you to hold this tray.' Richard did so, and looked down on its contents. 'Those,' said the host to his friend, 'are early English.' He lifted up another light tray, and Richard held it on the top of the first. 'Now then, old fellow,' he exclaimed, 'this is something to be proud of indeed; Spanish coins date of the Moors—all rare—this one, unique; I gave forty pounds for it.'
'Not a penny too much,' said Richard's master; 'and these two coins set apart—are they Spanish too?'
'Moorish, and all but unique; they've been in my family for generations.'
Richard looked down, and his heart beat so loud that he wondered they did not hear it; then he drew a long breath, and gazed intently, as well he might, for, reposing on cotton wool, side by side, were the very counterparts—the exact fac-similes—of the great gold pieces he got out of the cavern.
'What's the matter, Richard?' said his master; for Richard's hands shook, and he stared as if fascinated.
​'Nothing's the matter, sir,' replied Richard, with a face of terror.
'I'll tell you what,' said the friend, when Richard had been dismissed, 'there's something queer about that lad; what does he mean by turning red and pale, and breathing as hard as if my coins had knocked the breath out of his body?'
His master also thought it queer when that same evening Richard gave him warning, and added that he wished to leave that night, for his brother's wife had written to say that her husband vas dangerously ill, and wished to see him.
His master was vexed; but being an easy man, he paid Richard his wages, and let him go, with many kind wishes for his brother's recovery.
'And now,' said Richard, 'I'll be a gentleman. I've left my old clothes, and when I'm missed my family can claim them. Honest industry is the best thing after all. Let them do for themselves; they ought to be above troubling me; my name shall be Mr. Davenport St. Gilbert; I shall keep myself to myself, for I want nothing of them, and that alone will be a good thing for them, and more than they ever had reason to expect.'
He then went to a number of shops, and soon supplied himself with everything that he thought necessary to constitute him a gentleman—a handsome suit of clothes, studs, a new hat, a cane, and lastly a pair of gloves, which he had been very near forgetting; then he went to a hotel, ordered supper and a bed, and by seven o'clock the next morning was on his way to the Cumberland mountains. The image of that ​mountain was always present to his imagination, and the thought of the treasure lying there, with nothing but a little bird to watch it, filled him with a secret, sordid joy; it should be all his own—no other living man should touch one penny of it: poor Richard!
He went to an inn, ordered a good dinner and a bottle of wine. Alas! he was not used to port wine, and he thought as he paid for all, he would drink all. He did so, and the next day a racking headache made him glad to lie in bed till noon. He staid at that place another night, and, unhappily for him, repeated the folly of the previous one. It was not till the fourth day from his leaving B——— that he reached the end of his journey, and stepping out of a post-chaise found himself at the foot of the well-remembered Cumberland mountains.
He sauntered to the shore of the lake, and began to hurrah! with irrepressible exultation. He thought himself alone, but a dry cough behind him, and a finger laid on his shoulder, undeceived him. He turned round hastily, and beheld two policemen.
'What's your business, fellows?' he exclaimed, half angry, half afraid.
'You're our business,' was the reply. 'There's been a theft; you must come back with us to B———.'
'It's a lie, a base lie; it's a cruel lie,' cried Richard, frantically; 'there was no theft in the matter, the coin was my own.'
'Indeed! Well, young man, you needn't criminate yourself; how do you know we came after you about a coin?—it's no use stamping, nor crying either, you must come.'
​The mountains and the lake swam before Richard's eye, as the two policemen took him between them, and walked him off to the railway station; he was frightened, but bewildered, and throughout the long journey he preserved a dogged silence, till at last the train arrived at B———, and there stood his master and the old gentleman waiting for him.
'This is the young fellow, sir, is'nt it?' inquired the policemen confidently.
'Yes,' said his master, in a tone of deep regret; 'I grieve to say it is.'
The next morning he was examined before a magistrate, but alas! during the night he had reflected that no one could prove his having stolen the coins (for on their account he never doubted that he had been arrested); he had also reflected that to tell the honest truth about them was most certainly to lose all; moreover, he had made up his mind that nothing worse than a month's imprisonment was at all likely to befall him, even if a case could be made out against him. He therefore resolved to run all risks, and declare that he had found the coins and the jewels in his father's potato-garden; he had turned them up with a hoe. How the time passed with Richard until his trial, I do not know, but his kind old master visited him frequently, and told him it would be his duty to give evidence against him.
Richard, however, persisted in his tale, though he became quieter and more fearful as the assizes drew near.
At length the eventful day of trial came on; his turn came; he felt guilty, though not of the crime ​imputed to him; and his anxiety increased as he listened to the evidence brought against him. The counsel for the prosecution stated the case against him thus:—
The prisoner, on the 22d of August, arrived with his master at the house of the prosecutor; he had often been there before, and was known to have acquaintances there. On the 24th he was present while certain valuable coins were displayed by the prosecutor; he was observed to regard them with particular attention; that same evening he gave warning to his master, giving as a reason that his brother's wife had written to him, declaring that her husband was at death's door. He requested to be paid his wages at once, alleging that he had but five shillings in his pocket. He took his leave; and in the evening of the following day, his brother, whose employer was travelling that way, called in to see him in perfect health; and on being told of the letter supposed to have been received from his wife, replied that his wife, being a Frenchwoman, lady's-maid in the family where he lived, could neither read nor write English, and that Richard knew that quite well.
The day after this, the prosecutor happened to observe a certain scratched appearance about the keyholes of two of his cabinets; he opened them hastily, and found every tray gone, with all their contents; in short, the whole case gutted. Inquiries were instantly set on foot, and plate to a considerable amount was also found to be missing; thereupon, the servants being examined, Richard's name was mentioned by all with suspicion. The cook deposed that during ​dinner, the day he left, Richard had inquired concerning the word 'unique.' 'Unique,' said the servants, 'means that no one has got such a coin except master;' to which he replied, 'If that's unique, they are no more unique than I am, and that I could prove to the present company if I chose.' The servants further deposed, that looking upon this as an idle boast, they had laughed at him, and dared him to produce one, and at last he had said that perhaps he might before he took his leave of them.
This evidence being important, the police had been set to work, and had discovered a fac-simile of the coin, of which only two specimens were supposed to be extant, exposed for sale in a shop window; they had also discovered that he had entered several shops, and spent money to an amount greatly exceeding his wages. The recovered coin being shown to the prosecutor, he challenged it, and produced a written description, wherein it was set forth that these ancient Spanish coins were supposed to be fresh from the Mint, and never to have passed into circulation.
The prisoner, on being arrested, had instantly mentioned these coins, and declared he came by them honestly. When examined before a magistrate, he declared that he had dug them up in his father's potato-garden. Search being made, another coin was found in his waistcoat pocket. On being told that the sharp outline of the coins proved that they had not been exposed to friction or damp, he added that he found them sealed up in an earthen pot.
On being asked how long it was since he had found them, he replied that it was while he lived in his late ​master's service. On being reminded by that gentleman that he had only visited his parents twice during that period, and that the first time they were paupers in the Union, and had no potato-garden, he replied that it was the second time; on being further reminded that during his second visit the ground was covered with a deep fall of snow, he refused to give any answer.
And now witnesses were called, and then followed the feeble defence of his own counsel. Richard was bewildered, but he perceived that the circumstantial evidence was so strong against him that nothing but the truth could save him, and the truth no man knew. He was brought in guilty, and sentenced to seven years' transportation.
Alas! what a casting down of his dream of riches! what a bitter disappointment for his covetous soul! He was sent back to prison, and there, when he had duly reflected on his position, he determined to purchase freedom by discovering the whole truth, and thus giving up his monopoly of the Moorish gold.
He sent for his master; he looked miserable, and as he sat on the bench in his prison-dress, with his face propped on his hands, he felt plainly that his master pitied him.
The old gentleman heard him to the end and made no comment, but he remained so long silent when the tale was finished, that Richard looked up surprised. 'Sir!' he exclaimed, 'surely you believe me now?'
'Alas, my poor fellow!' said his master, 'you have ​told so many falsehoods, that it is no longer in my power to believe on the testimony of your lips, but only of my own senses; and this last story, Richard, seems to me the wildest of all. It will not serve you, nor delay your sentence one hour.'
'Yes, it will—indeed it will. O sir, sir, try me this once, and go and look behind those broom bushes.'
'Richard, you have a good father and mother, and good sisters, who are very, very poor,—if you had really found such a treasure, you would have contrived to send something to them.'
'I—I forgot them, sir,' faltered Richard.
'No, Richard,' said his master, with a sigh, 'you are a bad fellow, I'm afraid; but you're not so bad as that comes to. You have deceived me so often, that I'm not to be taken in any more.'
Richard protested, but his master would not believe his tale, and was about to take leave of him, when a bustle was heard outside the door, and his master's old friend appeared in a state of great excitement. He opened both hands, and in the palm of each was seen a coin, the very coins that had been missing. The real thieves had been detected, and, with very little delay, Richard was set at liberty.
'And now, sir, said he, 'come with me to the mountain, and see whether I spoke the truth.'
His master wondered greatly, but he went. They were within ten miles of the mountain, when a tremendous storm came on; the floods of rain and peals of thunder drove them into an inn for shelter, and ​there they staid during a long night of storm and tempest.
It was not till high noon that that terrible storm subsided; then as soon as it was safe to go abroad, Richard and his master set off on their mission. They vent toiling up the same path that they had pursued before; the way was very rugged, for stones and earth had been dislodged by the storm.
'Richard,' said his master, 'we are nearly at the top of the mountain; surely we must have passed the place.'
They came down again, and the agitated Richard looked from right to left; all was so changed, so torn and disfigured, that he could not tell where he was. The tiny streams were tumbling torrents; the road was blocked with stones and rocks.
'Richard,' his master said again, 'we are nearly at the foot of the mountain; surely we have passed the place.'
His master went down to the inn. Richard continued to search: for three weary days he wandered up, and down, and about. Whether the force of the storm had driven rocks down, and filled up that little roofless room, or whether a torrent had defaced the place and concealed it, he could not tell; but certain it is he never found it; and from that day to this, no man's eyes have ever been gladdened with the sight of the Moorish gold.
He came to his master 'Sir,' said he, 'the gold is not to be found, but I have had a great deal of time to consider, and I have come to think that my own greed ​has brought all this misery on me. Here's the two coins that I got of the treasure; let them go to my relations, for I'll have none of them, but try to win back my good character, for the loss of that has been worse than the loss of this gold.'