erales_, seven millions; properties, nine millions. Have
you written that, Bernouin?"

"Yes, monseigneur."

"_Bourse_, six hundred thousand livres; various property, two millions.
Ah! I forgot--the furniture of the different chateaux--"

"Must I put of the crown?" asked Bernouin.

"No, no; it is of no use doing that--that is understood. Have you
written that, Bernouin?"

"Yes, monseigneur."

"And the ciphers?"

"Stand straight under one another."

"Cast them up, Bernouin."

"Thirty-nine millions two hundred and sixty thousand livres,
monseigneur."

"Ah!" cried the cardinal, in a tone of vexation; "there are not yet
forty millions!"

Bernouin recommenced the addition.

"No, monseigneur; there want seven hundred and forty thousand livres."

Mazarin asked for the account, and revised it carefully.

"Yes, but," said Bernouin, "thirty-nine millions two hundred and sixty
thousand livres make a good round sum."

"Ah, Bernouin; I wish the king had it."

"Your eminence told me that this money was his majesty's."

"Doubtless, as clear, as transparent as possible. These thirty-nine
millions are bespoken, and much more."

Bernouin smiled after his own fashion--that is, like a man who believes
no more than he is willing to believe--whilst preparing the cardinal's
night draught, and putting his pillow to rights.

"Oh!" said Mazarin, when the valet had gone out; "not yet forty
millions! I must, however, attain that sum, which I had set down for
myself. But who knows whether I shall have time? I sink, I am going,
I shall never reach it! And yet, who knows that I may not find two or
three millions in the pockets of my good friends the Spaniards? They
discovered Peru, those people did, and--what the devil! they must have
something left."

As he was speaking thus, entirely occupied with his ciphers, and
thinking no more of his gout, repelled by a preoccupation which, with
the cardinal, was the most powerful of all preoccupations, Bernouin
rushed into the chamber, quite in a fright.

"Well!" asked the cardinal, "what is the matter now?"

"The king, monseigneur,--the king!"

"How?--the king!" said Mazarin, quickly concealing his paper. "The king
here! the king at this hour! I thought he was in bed long ago. What is
the matter, then?"

The king could hear these last words, and see the terrified gesture of
the cardinal rising up in his bed, for he entered the chamber at that
moment.

"It is nothing, monsieur