“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?”
“Your eminence commanded me to cast up an account.”