"François I. and Cellini were in fact conversing at that moment with the familiarity to which the great ones of earth had accustomed the chosen artist of Heaven.
"Well, Benvenuto," the king was saying, "how do we come on with our Jupiter?"
"I am preparing to cast it, Sire."
"And when will that great work be performed?"
"Immediately upon my return to Paris, Sire."
"Take our best foundrymen, Cellini, and omit nothing to make the operation successful. If you need money, you know that I am ready."
"I know that you are the greatest, the noblest, and the most generous king on earth, Sire," replied Benvenuto; "but thanks to the salary which your Majesty orders paid to me, I am rich. As to the operation concerning which you are somewhat anxious, Sire, I will, with your gracious permission, rely upon my own resources to prepare and execute it. I distrust all your French foundrymen, not that they are unskilful, but because I am afraid that their national pride will make them disinclined to place their skill at the service of an artist from beyond the Alps. And I confess, Sire, that I attach too much importance to the success of my Jupiter to allow any other than myself to lay hand to it."
"Bravo, Cellini, bravo!" cried the king; "spoken like a true artist."
"Moreover," added Benvenuto, "I wish to be entitled to remind your Majesty of the promise you made me."
"That is right, my trusty friend. If we are content with it, we are to grant you a boon. We have not forgotten. Indeed, if we should forget, we bound ourselves in the presence of witnesses. Is it not so, Montmorency? and Poyet? Our constable and our chancellor will remind us of our plighted word."