Hecountedouttoherthepriceofallherjunk，grudgingeachpieceofmoneyasifithadbeenthebloodofhisveins。Theaffairwasconcluded。
ButZerkowstillhadsomethingtosay。AsMariafoldedupthepillow-caseandrosetogo，theoldJewsaid：
“Well，seehereaminute，we’ll——you’llhaveadrinkbeforeyougo，won’tyou？Justtoshowthatit’sallrightbetweenus。“Mariasatdownagain。
“Yes，IguessI’llhaveadrink，“sheanswered。
Zerkowtookdownawhiskeybottleandaredglasstumblerwithabrokenbasefromacupboardonthewall。Thetwodranktogether，Zerkowfromthebottle，Mariafromthebrokentumbler。Theywipedtheirlipsslowly，drawingbreathagain。Therewasamoment’ssilence。
“Say，“saidZerkowatlast，“howaboutthosegolddishesyoutoldmeaboutthelasttimeyouwerehere？“
“Whatgolddishes？“inquiredMaria，puzzled。
“Ah，youknow，“returnedtheother。“TheplateyourfatherownedinCentralAmericaalongtimeago。Don’tyouknow，itranglikesomanybells？Redgold，youknow，likeoranges？“
“Ah，“saidMaria，puttingherchinintheairasifsheknewalongstoryaboutthatifshehadamindtotellit。“Ah，yes，thatgoldservice。“
“Tellusaboutitagain，“saidZerkow，hisbloodlesslowerlipmovingagainsttheupper，hisclaw-likefingersfeelingabouthismouthandchin。“Tellusaboutit；goon。“
Hewasbreathingshort，hislimbstrembledalittle。Itwasasifsomehungrybeastofpreyhadscentedaquarry。Mariastillrefused，puttingupherhead，insistingthatshehadtobegoing。
“Let’shaveit，“insistedtheJew。“Takeanotherdrink。“Mariatookanotherswallowofthewhiskey。“Now，goon，“repeatedZerkow；“let’shavethestory。“Mariasquaredherelbowsonthedealtable，lookingstraightinfrontofherwitheyesthatsawnothing。
“Well，itwasthisway，“shebegan。“ItwaswhenIwaslittle。Myfolksmusthavebeenrich，oh，richintothemillions——coffee，Iguess——andtherewasalargehouse，butIcanonlyremembertheplate。Oh，thatserviceofplate！
Itwaswonderful。Thereweremorethanahundredpieces，andeveryoneofthemgold。Youshouldhaveseenthesightwhentheleathertrunkwasopened。Itfairdazzledyoureyes。Itwasayellowblazelikeafire，likeasunset；
suchaglory，allpileduptogether，onepieceovertheother。Why，iftheroomwasdarkyou’dthinkyoucouldseejustthesamewithallthatglitterthere。Therewa’n’tapiecethatwassomuchasscratched；everyonewaslikeamirror，smoothandbright，justlikealittlepoolwhenthesunshinesintoit。Therewasdinnerdishesandsouptureensandpitchers；andgreat，bigplattersaslongasthatandwidetoo；andcream-jugsandbowlswithcarvedhandles，allvinesandthings；anddrinkingmugs，everyoneadifferentshape；anddishesforgravyandsauces；andthenagreat，bigpunch-bowlwithaladle，andthebowlwasallcarvedoutwithfiguresandbunchesofgrapes。Why，justonlythatpunch-bowlwasworthafortune，Iguess。Whenallthatplatewassetoutonatable，itwasasightforakingtolookat。Suchaserviceasthatwas！Eachpiecewasheavy，oh，soheavy！andthick，youknow；thick，fatgold，nothingbutgold——red，shining，puregold，orangered——andwhenyoustruckitwithyourknuckle，ah，youshouldhaveheard！Nochurchbelleverrangsweeterorclearer。Itwassoftgold，too；youcouldbiteintoit，andleavethedentofyourteeth。Oh，thatgoldplate！Icanseeitjustasplain——solid，solid，heavy，rich，puregold；nothingbutgold，gold，heapsandheapsofit。Whataservicethatwas！“
Mariapaused，shakingherhead，thinkingoverthevanishedsplendor。Illiterateenough，unimaginativeenoughonallothersubjects，herdistortedwitscalledupthispicturewithmarvellousdistinctness。Itwasplainshesawtheplateclearly。Herdescriptionwasaccurate，wasalmosteloquent。
Didthatwonderfulserviceofgoldplateeverexistoutsideofherdiseasedimagination？WasMariaactuallyrememberingsomerealityofachildhoodofbarbaricluxury？WereherparentsatonetimepossessedofanincalculablefortunederivedfromsomeCentralAmericancoffeeplantation，afortunelongsinceconfiscatedbyarmiesofinsurrectionists，orsquanderedinthesupportofrevolutionarygovernments？
Itwasnotimpossible。OfMariaMacapa’spastpriortothetimeofherappearanceatthe“flat“absolutelynothingcouldbelearned。Shesuddenlyappearedfromtheunknown，astrangewomanofamixedrace，saneonallsubjectsbutthatofthefamousserviceofgoldplate；butunusual，complex，mysterious，evenatherbest。
ButwhatmiseryZerkowenduredashelistenedtohertale！
Forhechosetobelieveit，forcedhimselftobelieveit，lashedandharassedbyapitilessgreedthatcheckedatnotaleoftreasure，howeverpreposterous。Thestoryravishedhimwithdelight。Hewasnearsomeonewhohadpossessedthiswealth。Hesawsomeonewhohadseenthispileofgold。
Heseemednearit；itwasthere，somewherecloseby，underhiseyes，underhisfingers；itwasred，gleaming，ponderous。Hegazedabouthimwildly；nothing，nothingbutthesordidjunkshopandtherust-corrodedtins。Whatexasperation，whatpositivemisery，tobesoneartoitandyettoknowthatitwasirrevocably，irretrievablylost！A
spasmofanguishpassedthroughhim。Hegnawedathisbloodlesslips，atthehopelessnessofit，therage，thefuryofit。
“Goon，goon，“hewhispered；“let’shaveitalloveragain。
Polishedlikeamirror，hey，andheavy？Yes，Iknow，I
know。Apunch-bowlworthafortune。Ah！andyousawit，youhaditall！“
Mariarosetogo。Zerkowaccompaniedhertothedoor，urginganotherdrinkuponher。
“Comeagain，comeagain，“hecroaked。“Don’twaittillyou’vegotjunk；comeanytimeyoufeellikeit，andtellmemoreabouttheplate。“
Hefollowedherastepdownthealley。
“Howmuchdoyouthinkitwasworth？“heinquired，anxiously。
“Oh，amilliondollars，“answeredMaria，vaguely。
WhenMariahadgone，Zerkowreturnedtothebackroomoftheshop，andstoodinfrontofthealcoholstove，lookingdownintohiscolddinner，preoccupied，thoughtful。
“Amilliondollars，“hemutteredinhisrasping，gutturalwhisper，hisfinger-tipswanderingoverhisthin，cat-likelips。“Agoldenserviceworthamilliondollars；apunch-
bowlworthafortune；redgoldplates，heapsandpiles。
God！“
CHAPTER4
Thedayspassed。McTeaguehadfinishedtheoperationonTrina’steeth。Shedidnotcomeanymoretothe“Parlors。“
Mattershadreadjustedthemselvesalittlebetweenthetwoduringthelastsittings。Trinayetstooduponherreserve，andMcTeaguestillfelthimselfshamblingandungainlyinherpresence；butthatconstraintandembarrassmentthathadfolloweduponMcTeague’sblunderingdeclarationbrokeuplittlebylittle。Inspiteofthemselvestheyweregraduallyresumingthesamerelativepositionstheyhadoccupiedwhentheyhadfirstmet。
ButMcTeaguesufferedmiserablyforallthat。HeneverwouldhaveTrina，hesawthatclearly。Shewastoogoodforhim；toodelicate，toorefined，tooprettilymadeforhim，whowassocoarse，soenormous，sostupid。Shewasforsomeoneelse——Marcus，nodoubt——oratleastforsomefiner-
grainedman。Sheshouldhavegonetosomeotherdentist；
theyoungfellowonthecorner，forinstance，theposer，theriderofbicycles，thecourserofgrey-hounds。McTeaguebegantoloatheandtoenvythisfellow。Hespieduponhimgoinginandoutofhisoffice，andnotedhissalmon-pinknecktiesandhisastonishingwaistcoats。
OneSunday，afewdaysafterTrina’slastsitting，McTeaguemetMarcusSchoulerathistableinthecarconductors’
coffee-joint，nexttotheharnessshop。
“Whatyougottodothisafternoon，Mac？“inquiredtheother，astheyatetheirsuetpudding。
“Nothing，nothing，“repliedMcTeague，shakinghishead。Hismouthwasfullofpudding。Itmadehimwarmtoeat，andlittlebeadsofperspirationstoodacrossthebridgeofhisnose。Helookedforwardtoanafternoonpassedinhisoperatingchairasusual。Onleavinghis“Parlors“hehadputtencentsintohispitcherandhadleftitatFrenna’stobefilled。
“Whatdoyousaywetakeawalk，huh？“saidMarcus。“Ah，that’sthething——awalk，alongwalk，bydamn！It’llbeoutasight。Igottotakethreeorfourofthedogsoutforexercise，anyhow。OldGrannisthinkstheyneedut。We’llwalkouttothePresidio。“
Oflateithadbecomethecustomofthetwofriendstotakelongwalksfromtimetotime。OnholidaysandonthoseSundayafternoonswhenMarcuswasnotabsentwiththeSieppestheywentouttogether，sometimestothepark，sometimestothePresidio，sometimesevenacrossthebay。
Theytookagreatpleasureineachother’scompany，butsilentlyandwithreservation，havingthemasculinehorrorofanydemonstrationoffriendship。
Theywalkedforupwardsoffivehoursthatafternoon，outthelengthofCaliforniaStreet，andacrossthePresidioReservationtotheGoldenGate。Thentheyturned，and，followingthelineoftheshore，broughtupattheCliffHouse。Heretheyhaltedforbeer，Marcusswearingthathismouthwasasdryasahay-bin。Beforestartingontheirwalktheyhadgonearoundtothelittledoghospital，andMarcushadletoutfouroftheconvalescents，crazedwithjoyattherelease。