“Charles II.?” exclaimed Mazarin, with a hoarse voice and a disdainful movement of his lips.  “You have received a visit from Charles II.?”

“From King Charles II.,” replied Louis, according in a marked manner to the grandson of Henry IV. the title which Mazarin had forgotten to give him.  “Yes, monsieur le cardinal, that unhappy prince has touched my heart with the relation of his misfortunes.  His distress is great, monsieur le cardinal, and it has appeared painful to me, who have seen my own throne disputed, who have been forced in times of commotion to quit my capital, — to me, in short, who am acquainted with misfortune, — to leave a deposed and fugitive brother without assistance.”

“Eh!” said the cardinal, sharply; “why had he not, as you have, a Jules Mazarin by his side?  His crown would then have remained intact.”

“I know all that my house owes to your eminence,” replied the king, haughtily, “and you may well believe that I, on my part, shall never forget it.  It is precisely because my brother, the king of England has not about him the powerful genius who has saved me, it is for that, I say, that I wish to conciliate the aid of that same genius, and beg you to extend your arm over his head, well assured, monsieur le cardinal, that your hand, by touching him only, would know how to replace upon his brow the crown which fell at the foot of his father’s scaffold.”

“Sire,” replied Mazarin, “I thank you for your good opinion with regard to myself, but we have nothing to do yonder:  they are a set of madmen who deny God, and cut off the heads of their kings.  They are dangerous, observe, sire, and filthy to the touch after having wallowed in royal blood and covenantal murder.  That policy has never suited me, — I scorn it and reject it.”

“Therefore you ought to assist in establishing a better.”

“What is that?”

“The restoration of Charles II., for example.”

“Good heavens!” cried Mazarin, “does the poor prince flatter himself with that chimera?”

“Yes, he does,” replied the young king, terrified at the difficulties opposed to this project, which he fancied he could perceive in the infallible eye of his minister; “he only asks for a million to carry out his purpose.”

“Is that all — a little million, if you please!” said the cardinal, ironically, with an effort to conquer his Italian accent.  “A little million, if you please, brother!  Bah! a family of mendicants!”

“Cardinal,” said Louis, raising his head, “that family of mendicants is a branch of my family.”

“Are you rich enough to give millions to other people, sire?  Have you millions to throw away?”

“Oh!” replied Louis XIV., with great pain, which he, however, by a strong effort, prevented from appearing on his countenance; — “oh! yes, monsieur le cardinal, I am well aware I am poor, and yet the crown of France is worth a million, and to perform a good action I would pledge my crown if it were necessary.  I could find Jews who would be willing to lend me a million.”