, "to your thanks--and your
experience, much more extensive than my wisdom, my prudence, or my
generosity, does not furnish you with a single piece of friendly advice
to guide my future." Mazarin reflected for a moment. "You have just done
much for me, sire," said he, "that is, for my family."

"Say no more about that," said the king.

"Well!" continued Mazarin, "I shall give you something in exchange for
these forty millions you have refused so royally."

Louis XIV. indicated by a movement that these flatteries were
displeasing to him. "I shall give you a piece of advice," continued
Mazarin; "yes, a piece of advice--advice more precious than the forty
millions."

"My lord cardinal!" interrupted Louis.

"Sire, listen to this advice."

"I am listening."

"Come nearer, sire, for I am weak!--nearer, sire, nearer!"

The king bent over the dying man. "Sire," said Mazarin, in so low a tone
that the breath of his words arrived only like a recommendation from
the tomb in the attentive ears of the king--"Sire, never have a prime
minister."

Louis drew back astonished. The advice was a confession--a treasure, in
fact, was that sincere confession of Mazarin. The legacy of the cardinal
to the young king was composed of six words only, but those six words,
as Mazarin had said, were worth forty millions. Louis remained for
an instant bewildered. As for Mazarin, he appeared only to have said
something quite natural. A little scratching was heard along the
curtains of the alcove. Mazarin understood: "Yes, yes!" cried he,
warmly, "yes, sire, I recommend to you a wise man, an honest man, and a
clever man."

"Tell me his name, my lord."

"His name is yet almost unknown, sire; it is M. Colbert, my attendant.
Oh! try him," added Mazarin, in an earnest voice; "all that he has
predicted has come to pass; he has a safe glance, he is never mistaken
either in things or in men--which is more surprising still. Sire, I owe
you much, but I think I acquit myself of all towards you in giving you
M. Colbert."

"So be it," said Louis, faintly, for, as Mazarin had said, the name of
Colbert was quite unknown to him, and he thought the enthusiasm of the
cardinal partook of the delirium of a dying man. The cardinal sank back
on his pillows.

"For the present, adieu, sire! adieu," murmured Mazarin. "I am tired,
and I have yet a rough journey to take before I present myself to my new
Master. Adieu, sire!"

The young king felt the tears ris