"Twelve hundred and thirty and eighty-eight thousand crowns make thirteen hundred and seventeen thousand crowns," replied Cornélius, mechanically, absorbed in calculations. "Thirteen hundred and seventeen thousand crowns misappropriated!"
"He must have buried them in some hidden spot," said the King, who was beginning to think the sum a royal prize. "This is the lodestone that has always attracted him hither—he smelt his gold."
Hereupon Coyctier came in. Noticing the treasurer's attitude, he watched him keenly while the King was relating the adventure.
"My lord," replied the physician, "there is nothing supernatural in the business. Our friend here has the peculiarity of walking in his sleep. This is the third case I have met with of this singular malady. If you should be pleased to witness its effects, you might see this old man walking without danger on the parapet of the roof any night when he should be seized by it. In the two men I have already studied, I discovered a curious connection between the instincts of this nocturnal vitality and their business or occupations by day."
"Ah, Maître Coyctier, you are indeed most learned!"
"Am I not your physician?" retorted the leech, insolently.
On this reply Louis XI. made a little movement which was a familiar trick with him when he had hit on a good idea—a gesture of hastily pushing his cap up.
"In such cases," Coyctier went on, "men transact their business in their sleep. As our friend here is not averse to hoarding, he has quietly yielded to his favorite habit. Indeed, he probably has an attack whenever, during the day, he has been in alarm for his treasure."
"Pasques Dieu! and what a treasure!" cried the King.
"Where is it?" asked Cornélius, who, by a singular peculiarity of our nature, heard all that the King and his leech were saying, though almost stunned by his reflections and his misfortune.