"Then the devil haunts me!" said the goldsmith, lamentably.
Under any other circumstances the King would have laughed at his treasurer's exclamation; but he stood thinking and gazing at Maître Cornélius with the scrutiny familiar to men of genius and authority, as if he could see into the man's brain. The Fleming, in fact, was terrified, thinking he had offended his formidable master.
"Angel or devil, I will have the malefactor!" the King suddenly exclaimed. "If you are robbed this night, I will know by whom to-morrow. Call up that old ape, your sister," he added.
Cornélius almost hesitated to leave the King alone in the room that contained his treasure; however, he went, coerced by the strength of the bitter smile that curled Louis' faded lips. And in spite of his confidence, he soon returned, followed by the old woman.
"Have you any flour?" asked the King.
"To be sure! we have laid in our store for the winter," said she.
"Well, then, bring it here," said the King.
"And what would you be doing with our flour, Sire?" cried she in alarm, and not in the least awed by the presence of majesty, like all persons possessed by a ruling passion.
"You old fool, will you do as our gracious liege bids you?" cried Cornélius. "Does the King want your flour?"
"This is what I buy fine flour for," muttered she, on the stairs. "Oh, my good flour!"