Then the priests mildly remonstrated because the coronation diadem had not been brought back to their store of treasures, but was still missing.
"So, in your treasure-house at Saint Denis you keep all the crowns of all the reigns?" asked the prince.
"Yes, Sire, and where could they be better guarded than with us? Who has most may have least."
"With all their rubies, diamonds, sapphires, and emeralds?"
"Yes, Sire; and hence the name treasure."
The King replied, "If this be the case, I will send you my coronation crown. At that time my brow was not so big; you will find the crown small, I tell you."
Then one of the monks, in the most serious manner, said, "It's not as small as it was; your Majesty has enlarged it a good deal."
Madame de Maintenon burst out laughing, and I was not slow to follow her example; we saw that the King could hardly maintain his gravity. He said to the priest, "My father, you turn a pretty compliment in a most praiseworthy manner; you ought to have belonged to the Jesuits, not to the Benedictines."
We burst out laughing anew, and this convent-deputation, the gloomiest-looking, most funereal one in the world, managed to cause us some diversion, after all.
To make amends for our apparent frivolity, his Majesty himself took them to see his splendid cabinet of medals and coins, and sent them back to their abbey in Court carriages.