“Sire,” replied Mazarin, “I thank you for your good opinion with regard to myself, but we have nothing to do yonder: they are a set of madmen who deny God, and cut off the heads of their kings. They are dangerous, observe, sire, and filthy to the touch after having wallowed in royal blood and covenantal murder. That policy has never suited me,—I scorn it and reject it.” “Therefore you ought to assist in establishing a better.” “What is that?” “The restoration of Charles II., for example.” “Good heavens!” cried Mazarin, “does the poor prince flatter himself with that chimera?” “Yes, he does,” replied the young king, terrified at the difficulties opposed to this project, which he fancied he could perceive in the infallible eye of his minister; “he only asks for a million to carry out his purpose.” “Is that all—a little million, if you please!” said the cardinal, ironically, with an effort to conquer his Italian accent. “A little million, if you please, brother! Bah! a family of mendicants!” “Cardinal,” said Louis, raising his head, “that family of mendicants is a branch of my family.” “Are you rich enough to give millions to other people, sire? Have you millions to throw away?” “Oh!” replied Louis XIV., with great pain, which he, however, by a strong effort, prevented from appearing on his countenance;—“oh! yes, monsieur le cardinal, I am well aware I am poor, and yet the crown of France is worth a million, and to perform a good action I would pledge my crown if it were necessary. I could find Jews who would be willing to lend me a million.” “So, sire, you say you want a million?” said Mazarin. “Yes, monsieur, I say so.” “You are mistaken, greatly mistaken, sire; you want much more than that,—Bernouin!—you shall see, sire, how much you really want.” “What, cardinal!” said the king, “are you going to consult a lackey about my affairs?” “Bernouin!” cried the cardinal again, without appearing to remark the humiliation of the young prince. “Come here, Bernouin, and tell me the figures I gave you just now.” “Cardinal, cardinal! did you not hear me?” said Louis, turning pale with anger. “Do not be angry, sire; I deal openly with the affairs of your majesty. Every one in France knows that; my books are as open as day. What did I tell you to do just now, Bernouin?” “Your eminence commanded me to cast up an account.” “You did it, did you not?” “Yes, my lord.” “To verify the amount of which his majesty, at this moment, stands in need. Did I not tell you so? Be frank, my friend.” “Your eminence said so.” “Well, what sum did I say I wanted?” “Forty-five millions, I think.” “And what sum could we find, after collecting all our resources?” “Thirty-nine millions two hundred and sixty thousand.” “That is correct, Bernouin; that is all I wanted to know. Leave us now,” said the cardinal, fixing his brilliant eye upon the young king, who sat mute with stupefaction. “However—” stammered the king.