"Oh!" exclaimed Charles, "if Heaven permits kings to be thus ignorant of
the histories of each other, how can they render assistance to their
brothers who need it?"

"But tell me," continued Louis XIV., "how, after being so roughly
received in England, you can still hope for anything from that unhappy
country and that rebellious people?"

"Oh, sire! since the battle of Worcester, everything is changed there.
Cromwell is dead, after having signed a treaty with France, in which his
name is placed above yours. He died on the 3rd of September, 1658, a
fresh anniversary of the battles of Dunbar and Worcester."

"His son has succeeded him."

"But certain men have a family, sire, and no heir. The inheritance of
Oliver was too heavy for Richard. Richard was neither a republican nor a
royalist; Richard allowed his guards to eat his dinner, and his generals
to govern the republic; Richard abdicated the protectorate on the 22nd of
April, 1659, more than a year ago, sire.

"From that time England is nothing but a tennis-court, in which the
players throw dice for the crown of my father. The two most eager
players are Lambert and Monk. Well, sire, I, in my turn, wish to take
part in this game, where the stakes are thrown upon my royal mantle.
Sire, it only requires a million to corrupt one of these players and make
an ally of him, or two hundred of your gentlemen to drive them out of my
palace at Whitehall, as Christ drove the money-changers from the temple."

"You come, then," replied Louis XIV., to ask me - "