“Eh! monseigneur; whether it be spent or put away is of very little consequence to me, since none of these millions are mine.”
“These millions are the king’s; it is the king’s money I am reckoning. Well, what were we saying? You always interrupt me!”
“Seven millions upon Bordeaux.”
“Ah! yes; that’s right. Upon Madrid four millions. I give you to understand plainly to whom this money belongs, Bernouin, seeing that everybody has the stupidity to believe me rich in millions. I repel the silly idea. A minister, besides, has nothing of his own. Come, go on. Rentrees generales, 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?”