"Do you know that it is gold, sire?" said Chicot.
"Yes, my friend, I know."
"Peste! you are rich."
"Do you not see that each of these pieces serves for two? On the contrary, I am so poor that I am forced to cut my gold in two."
"It is true," said Chicot, with surprise: "they are half-pieces, with fantastic designs."
"Oh, I am like my brother Henri, who amuses himself in cutting out images: I amuse myself with clipping my ducats."
"Nevertheless, sire, it is an odd method of giving charity," said Chicot, who divined some hidden mystery.
"What would you do?"
"Instead of cutting the gold, I would give one piece between two."
"They would fight, and I should do harm instead of good."'