Mazarin asked for the account, and revised it carefully.

"Yes, but," said Bernouin, "thirty-nine millions two hundred and sixty
thousand livres make a good round sum."

"Ah, Bernouin; I wish the king had it."

"Your eminence told me that this money was his majesty's."

"Doubtless, as clear, as transparent as possible. These thirty-nine
millions are bespoken, and much more."

Bernouin smiled after his own fashion - that is, like a man who believes
no more than he is willing to believe - whilst preparing the cardinal's
night draught, and putting his pillow to rights.

"Oh!" said Mazarin, when the valet had gone out; "not yet forty
millions! I must, however, attain that sum, which I had set down for
myself. But who knows whether I shall have time? I sink, I am going, I
shall never reach it! And yet, who knows that I may not find two or
three millions in the pockets of my good friends the Spaniards? They
discovered Peru, those people did, and - what the devil! they must have
something left."

As he was speaking thus, entirely occupied with his ciphers, and thinking
no more of his gout, repelled by a preoccupation which, with the
cardinal, was the most powerful of all preoccupations, Bernouin rushed
into the chamber, quite in a fright.

"Well!" asked the cardinal, "what is the matter now?"