“Yes, sire, and even as a beginning, I bring your majesty a
note of funds which M. le Cardinal Mazarin was not willing
to set down in his testament, neither in any act whatever,
but which he confided to me.”
“To you?”
“Yes, sire, with an injunction to remit it to your majesty.”
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“What! besides the forty millions of the testament?”
“Yes, sire.”
“M. de Mazarin had still other funds?”
Colbert bowed.
“Why, that man was a gulf!” murmured the king. “M. de
Mazarin on one side, M. Fouquet on the other, — more than a
hundred millions perhaps between them! No wonder my coffers
should be empty!” Colbert waited without stirring.
“And is the sum you bring me worth the trouble?” asked the
king.
“Yes, sire, it is a round sum.”
“Amounting to how much?”
“To thirteen millions of livres, sire.”
“Thirteen millions!” cried Louis, trembling with joy: “do
you say thirteen millions, Monsieur Colbert?”
“I said thirteen millions, yes, your majesty.”
“Of which everybody is ignorant?”
“Of which everybody is ignorant.”
“Which are in your hands?”
“In my hands, yes, sire.”
“And which I can have?”
“Within two hours, sire.”
“But where are they, then?”
“In the cellar of a house which the cardinal possessed in
the city, and which he was so kind as to leave me by a
particular clause of his will.”
“You are acquainted with the cardinal’s will, then?”
“I have a duplicate of it, signed by his hand.”
“A duplicate?”
“Yes, sire, and here it is.” Colbert drew the deed quietly
from his pocket and showed it to the king. The king read the
article relative to the donation of the house.
“But,” said he, “there is no question here but of the house;
there is nothing said of the money.”
“Your pardon, sire, it is in my conscience.”
“And Monsieur Mazarin has intrusted it to you?”
“Why not, sire?”
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“He! a man mistrustful of everybody?”
“He was not so of me, sire, as your majesty may perceive.”
Louis fixed his eyes with admiration upon that vulgar but
expressive face. “You are an honest man, M. Colbert,” said
the king.
“That is not a virtue, it is a duty,” replied Colbert,
coolly.
“But,” added Louis, “does not the money belong to the
family?”
“If this money belonged to the family it would be disposed
of in the testament, as the rest of his fortune is. If this
money belonged to the family, I, who drew up the deed of
donation in favor of your majesty, should have added the sum
of thirteen millions to that of forty millions which was
offered to you.”
“How!” exclaimed Louis XIV., “was it you who drew up the
deed of donation?”
“Yes, sire.”
“And yet the cardinal was attached to you?” added the king
ingenuously.
“I had assured his eminence you would by no means accept the
gift,” said Colbert in that same quiet manner we have
described, and which, even in the common habits of life, had
something solemn in it.
Louis passed his hand over his brow. “Oh! how young I am,”
murmured he, “to have the command of men.”
Colbert waited the end of this monologue. He saw Louis raise
his head. “At what hour shall I send the money to your
majesty?” asked he.
“To-night, at eleven o’clock; I desire that no one may know
that I possess this money.”
Colbert made no more reply than if the thing had not been
said to him.
“Is the amount in ingots, or coined gold?”
“In coined gold, sire.”
“That is well.”
“Where shall I send it?”
“To the Louvre. Thank you, M. Colbert.”
Colbert bowed and retired. “Thirteen millions!” exclaimed
Louis, as soon as he was alone. “This must be a dream!” Then
he allowed his head to sink between his hands, as if he were
really asleep. But at the end of a moment he arose, and
opening the window violently he bathed his burning brow in
the keen morning air, which brought to his senses the scent
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of the trees, and the perfume of flowers. A splendid dawn