Her husband, already half-undressed, demanded:
“What is the matter with you?”
She turned madly towards him:
“I have—I have—I’ve lost Mme. Forestier’s necklace.”
He stood up, distracted.
“What!—how?—Impossible!”
And they looked in the folds of her dress, in the folds of her cloak, in her pockets, everywhere.
They did not find it. He asked:
“You’re sure you had it on when you left the ball?”
“Yes, I felt it in the vestibule of the palace.”
“But if you had lost it in the street we should have heard it fall. It must be in the cab.”
“Yes. Probably. Did you take his number?”
“No. And you, didn’t you notice it?”
“No.”
They looked, thunderstruck, at one another. At last Loisel put on his clothes.
“I shall go back on foot,” said he, “over the whole route which we have taken, to see if I can’t
find it.”