Story Fragment No. 2: The Beggar's Ring

The artisan finished his ring before sunset. Prodesse thought the pearl perfect, but wondered at its setting. “Truly,” he said to himself, “it deserves to be set in better metal than this copper band.” As he was thinking this, a very ragged child approached the house and knocked. The old man opened it.
“Welcome, son,” said the artisan. “Have you come for your ring?” He laid it in the boy’s palm.
“I came for bread,” the beggar replied, much amazed.
“This is better than bread,” said the artisan, with lifted eyebrows, “and it is bread, and will get you bread besides.”
“But how can I pay for it—I have nothing.”
“Nevertheless,” the artisan replied, “I made it for you.”
“Oh, sir!” said the boy. He was silent a moment, then cried again, “Oh, sir!”
“Why not, my son? You see the band is only copper; you need not be afraid to take it any more than you fear a copper coin. It will fit your second finger. See? It is yours.”
The child put it on. His mouth worked as though he wanted very much not to cry, but his eyes were shining. The artisan put his hand a moment on the boy’s head and sent him away, whereupon the beggar went forth dazed, and Prodesse stared at the artisan.
“What have you done, Grandfather? That jewel was worth a king's palace!”
“It was worth more than that, my son. Shall we have some dinner?”
Prodesse was not to be diverted. “But why did you give away your pearl?”
The artisan smiled. “Have I given it away?”
“I saw you put it on the hand of a beggar.”
“It is a very old saying, my son,” the artisan said, dryly, “that things are not always as they seem. See here.” And, stooping, he drew the pearl again from the fountain.
“I did not think there were two such pearls on earth!” cried Prodesse, taking it into his hand.
“There is only one such pearl,” the old artisan replied, a little severely.
“Then, how have you got it again from the beggar’s ring? Is it magic?”
“No,” said the artisan, “but it is a very mysterious pearl.”
“That is true!”
“I must make a new setting for it,” murmured the artisan.
“So the boy got only a copper after all,” Prodesse mused. “No better than he deserved, but still it is a hard thing.” He was thinking of the look in the beggar’s eyes when the artisan had said, “It is yours.” The old artisan did not reply at first, but stood gazing at him with a look that struck Prodesse to his soul. There was sadness in it, and hurt, and a kind of pity.
“The child still has his pearl.”
Prodesse grew more and more astonished. “But how is this possible?”
A corner of the artisan’s mouth twitched. “You must learn to attend more closely, my son. Did I not say that it is a very mysterious pearl? When you are older, you shall have a ring also. Now, please set the table for supper.”
The artisan returned to his settings, and Prodesse went to get their dinner.