A day in this store is worth its weight in gold for anyone observing French society. The great discrepancy in wealth, but also shared fears, family generosity and the worst kinds of hatred and the need, so very strong, to be listened to, reassured, cajoled. All this is revealed at the Comptoir National de l'Or ("National Gold Counter"), adjacent to the Place du Capitole in Toulouse.

In the shop window with its golden sign, the price of gold fluctuates in real time on a giant screen: €73,417 for a 1-kilo ingot on this day in mid-September. At least seven times more than 25 years ago. Twice as much as in 2019. "The media are talking about it; people are discussing it at home. They have gold in their drawers, and one day they make up their minds and have it appraised. They're pleasantly surprised, and pow! They sell!" said Sandra Sanchez, the happy manager of the busy store. Her brown hair, dress and weeks are long – she is open six days a week, including during lunchtime. Because in her office, with the door closed, the customers who come and go don't hurry, unpacking much more than their little treasure.

From the outset, the better-off justify themselves ("I'm not in need") and the less well-off apologize ("I don't bring anything extraordinary"), before extracting a cloth bag from a plastic one at the bottom of a purse. Then they lay the imposing gold bracelet, the collection of napoleons or the modest interlacing of chains, fine rings and orphaned earrings in front of Sanchez, commenting on it all. Behind each piece of jewelry, the smallest coin, the smallest gold tooth, lies "a story, a moment in life," the 30-something has come to understand, with steadfast patience.

The suspense imposes silence, the time for weighing and appraisal – acid, deposited on the object being scratched, produces a telling chemical reaction. Plated or solid gold? How many carats? Before good news often revive the customer's story. For Isabelle, €345, which – she immediately converted out loud – meant "a student pass for Paris transport." Wearing a green sweater and a touch of red costume jewelry in her ears, this social worker was visibly fighting the battle against gloom. She poured her little treasures onto the precision scales: chains, rings and even her baby's christening medals and chain bracelet. "I'm not religious, and my mother isn't anymore, so she doesn't mind," she said with a smile.

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