"Sire, if your Majesty will so far indulge me, I pray you to order something different, and allow me to postpone the execution of that work." "Why so?" "Because I promised God to undertake it for no other sovereign than Him." "_À la bonne heure!_ Be it so! Benvenuto, I need twelve candlesticks for my table." "Ah! that is a different matter; and therein, Sire, you shall be obeyed." "It is my wish that they should take the form' of twelve silver statues." "The effect will be magnificent, Sire." "They must represent six gods and six goddesses, and be of my own height." "Why, your order is for a whole epic poem," said the Duchesse d'Etampes; "for a work of marvellous, surprising splendor, is it not, Monsieur Benvenuto?" "I am never surprised, madame." "I should be greatly surprised, my self," retorted the duchess, somewhat piqued, "if other sculptors than those of the olden time could carry such a task to completion." "I hope, nevertheless, to execute it as satisfactorily as they could have done," rejoined Benvenuto, coolly. "Oho! are you not inclined to boast a little, Monsieur Benvenuto?" "I never boast, madame." As he made this reply with perfect calmness, Cellini looked at Madame d'Etampes, and the haughty duchess lowered her eyes, in spite of herself, under that firm, assured glance, in which there was no trace of irritation. Her resentment was aroused by the consciousness of his superiority, to which she yielded even while resisting it, and without knowing in what it consisted. She had thought hitherto that beauty was the greatest power in the world; she had forgotten genius. "What treasure," said she, with a bitter sneer, "would suffice to recompense such talent as yours?" "None that I can command, i' faith," rejoined François I., "and apropos, Benvenuto, I remember that you have as yet received but five hundred crowns. Will you be content with the stipend which I allowed my painter, Leonardo da Vinci, seven hundred gold crowns yearly? I will pay over and above that for all works which you may execute for me." "Sire, your offer is worthy such a king as François I., and--I venture to say it--of such an artist as Cellini. And yet I shall make so bold as to prefer a request to your Majesty." "It is granted in advance, Benvenuto." "Sire, I am but ill and narrowly accommodated in this edifice. One of my pupils has discovered a location much more favorably situated than this for the execution of such great works as my king may choose to command. The property in question belongs to your Majesty; it is the Grand-Nesle. It is at the disposal of the Provost of Paris, but he does not dwell therein; he occupies only the Petit-Nesle, which I will gladly leave in his possession." "So be it, Benvenuto," said François; "take up your abode at the Grand-Nesle, and I shall have only to cross the river to talk with you and admire your masterpieces."