“Then, you would have me throw all my money into the coffers of the king!” cried Mazarin, ironically; and from whom, at the same time, the gout forced painful moans. “Surely the king would reproach me with nothing, but he would laugh at me, while squandering my millions, and with good reason.” “Your eminence has misunderstood me. I did not, the least in the world, pretend that his majesty ought to spend your money.” “You said so clearly, it seems to me, when you advised me to give it to him.” “Ah,” replied Colbert, “that is because your eminence, absorbed as you are by your disease, entirely loses sight of the character of Louis XIV.” “How so?” “That character, if I may venture to express myself thus, resembles that which my lord confessed just now to the Theatin.” “Go on—that is?” “Pride! Pardon me, my lord, haughtiness, nobleness; kings have no pride, that is a human passion.” “Pride,—yes, you are right. Next?” “Well, my lord, if I have divined rightly, your eminence has but to give all your money to the king, and that immediately.” “But for what?” said Mazarin, quite bewildered. “Because the king will not accept of the whole.” “What, and he a young man, and devoured by ambition?” “Just so.” “A young man who is anxious for my death——” “My lord!” “To inherit, yes, Colbert, yes; he is anxious for my death in order to inherit. Triple fool that I am! I would prevent him!” “Exactly: if the donation were made in a certain form he would refuse it.” “Well, but how?” “That is plain enough. A young man who has yet done nothing—who burns to distinguish himself—who burns to reign alone, will never take anything ready built, he will construct for himself. This prince, monseigneur, will never be content with the Palais Royal, which M. de Richelieu left him, nor with the Palais Mazarin, which you have had so superbly constructed, nor with the Louvre, which his ancestors inhabited; nor with St. Germain, where he was born. All that does not proceed from himself, I predict, he will disdain.” “And you will guarantee, that if I give my forty millions to the king——” “Saying certain things to him at the same time, I guarantee he will refuse them.” “But those things—what are they?” “I will write them, if my lord will have the goodness to dictate them.” “Well, but, after all, what advantage will that be to me?” “An enormous one. Nobody will afterwards be able to accuse your eminence of that unjust avarice with which pamphleteers have reproached the most brilliant mind of the present age.” “You are right, Colbert, you are right; go, and seek the king, on my part, and take him my will.” “Your donation, my lord.” “But, if he should accept it; if he should even think of accepting it!” “Then there would remain thirteen millions for your family, and that is a good round sum.” “But then you would be either a fool or a traitor.”