which Zaleski had been detailing to me.

'I can see by your face that I was not altogether at fault,' he said,
with one of his musical laughs; 'but there still remains for us to
discover whence Ul-Jabal obtained his two substitutes, his motive for
exchanging one for the other, and for stealing the valueless gem; but,
above all, we must find where the real stone was all the time that
these two men so sedulously sought it, and where it now is. Now, let us
turn our attention to this stone, and ask, first, what light does the
inscription on the cup throw on its nature? The inscription assures us
that if "this stone be stolen," or if it "chaunges dre," the House of
Saul and its head "anoon" (i.e. anon, at once) shall die. "Dre," I may
remind you, is an old English word, used, I think, by Burns, identical
with the Saxon "_dreogan_," meaning to "suffer." So that the writer at
least contemplated that the stone might "suffer changes." But what kind
of changes--external or internal? External change--change of
environment--is already provided for when he says, "shulde this Ston
stalen bee"; "chaunges," therefore, in _his_ mind, meant internal
changes. But is such a thing possible for any precious stone, and for
this one in particular? As to that, we might answer when we know the
name of this one. It nowhere appears in the manuscript, and yet it is
immediately discoverable. For it was a "sky-blue" stone; a sky-blue,
sacred stone; a sky-blue, sacred, Persian stone. That at once gives us
its name--it was a _turquoise_. But can the turquoise, to the certain
knowledge of a mediaeval writer, "chaunges dre"? Let us turn for light
to old Anselm de Boot: that is he in pig-skin on the shelf behind the
bronze Hera.'

I handed the volume to Zaleski. He pointed to a passage which read as
follows: