“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?”