It was her particular fad to get as many of these together as she
could and to know the story of each. The less creditable the story,
the more highly she valued the medal. People might think it was not a
pretty hobby for a young girl, but they could not help smiling at the
stories and at the scorn with which she told them.
"These," she would say, "are crosses of the Legion of Honor; they are
of the lowest degree, that of chevalier. I keep them in this cigar box
to show how cheaply I got them and how cheaply I hold them. I think
you can get them here in New York for ten dollars; they cost more than
that--about a hundred francs--in Paris. At second-hand, of course. The
French government can imprison you, you know, for ten years, if you
wear one without the right to do so, but they have no punishment for
those who choose to part with them for a mess of pottage.
"All these," she would run on, "are English war medals. See, on this
one is 'Alma,' 'Balaclava,' and 'Sebastopol.' He was quite a veteran,
was he not? Well, he sold this to a dealer on Wardour Street, London,
for five and six. You can get any number of them on the Bowery for
their weight in silver. I tried very hard to get a Victoria Cross when
I was in England, and I only succeeded in getting this one after a
great deal of trouble.
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