"Oh!" replied Coyctier, with a coarse, diabolical laugh, "somnambulists have no recollection of their acts and deeds when they awake."
"Leave us!" said the King.
When Louis XI. was alone with his gossip, he looked at him with a cold chuckle.
"Worshipful Master Hoogworst," said he, bowing low, "all treasure-trove in France belongs to the King."
"Yes, my liege, it is all yours; and our lives and fortunes are in your hands; but hitherto you have been so merciful as to take no more than you found necessary."
"Listen to me, gossip. If I help you to recover this treasure, you may, in all confidence and without fear, divide it with me."
"No, Sire, I will not divide it. It shall be all yours, when I am dead. But what scheme have you for finding it?"
"I have only to watch you, myself, while you are taking your nocturnal walks. Any one but myself would be a danger."
"Ah, Sire," replied Cornélius, falling at the King's feet, "you are the only man in the kingdom whom I would trust with that office, and I shall find means to prove my gratitude for your kindness to your humble servant by doing my utmost to promote the marriage of the Heiress of Bourgogne to Monseigneur the Dauphin. There indeed is a treasure, not, to be sure, in crown-pieces, but in land, which will nobly round out your dominions!"
"Pshaw, Fleming, you are deceiving me!" said the King, knitting his brows, "or you have played me false."