It was one thing to be proud of his money and to found himself upon it solidly in his office with some fellow or other who had risen to the control of the finance, and who might be called Desmarets. It was another to be in the presence of Louis XIV. He felt himself a little weak at the knees, and yet happy to be in a new heavenly world. He bowed awkwardly again at the wrong time, and once again he mumbled. “Why,” said the old king, with a false sprightliness and affected gaiety, “you _must_ see my gardens.... Come with me.... Desmarets,” he added, turning to that courtier with an assumed ease, “I will not deprive you long of Mr. Bernard’s company; I am sure you will be eager to have him back. I only want to show him the gardens.” Desmarets bowed again in a trained manner, Bernard awkwardly; and the king took Bernard off to see the gardens: a nice little way-mark in the social history of Europe! One companion the king kept with him as a sort of foil, for with Bernard alone he would have felt like a man alone with a monster. Louis dared not trust himself with Bernard alone, therefore did he keep that one companion as a foil. But the companion was to remain silent while Louis did the honours. “Are not they well chosen, these chestnuts? Not one has failed!... They are young yet, Mr. Bernard. _You_ will see them grow tall.... But I am an old man.... Their alignment is perfect.” Bernard said in a husky voice, forcing himself to speak, “All these hills are market-garden country. The soil is good. The best trees are nourished here....” Then he added, “Sire,” and gulped. The king approved his judgment. “You are right, Mr. Bernard,” he said, trying to be as little pompous as he could. “You are curiously right.... It is a most interesting view.” He then added (lying), “Few have remarked this. It is most interesting that you should have remarked it. We have here at Marly an excellent soil for the rapid growth of great trees. Now I see there a poplar: we have also poplars ... but their arrangement seems to me a little spoilt by the cross paths. There is something irregular about the genius of these trees. I should have had them set farther back, as with a hint of forestry.” Saying this, the king halted, leaned back, gazed at the unoffending poplars with severity, then turned, looked at Bernard, and smiled painfully. “Your Majesty is right,” said Bernard. “You are right ...” (correcting himself), “Sire.” The banker had not meant the phrase to be blunt, yet Louis restrained himself like a man who feels a sudden pain; then he continued rapidly, and as though to forget what had just passed,--