"Is not that it, sire?" cried the minister, with a triumphant accent.
"And then he added some fine words: he said, 'I have friends on the other
side of the channel, and these friends only want a leader and a banner.
When they see me, when they behold the banner of France, they will rally
around me, for they will comprehend that I have your support. The colors
of the French uniform will be worth as much to me as the million M. de
Mazarin refuses us,' - for he was pretty well assured I should refuse him
that million. - 'I shall conquer with these five hundred gentlemen, sire,
and all the honor will be yours.' Now, that is what he said, or to that
purpose, was it not? - turning those plain words into brilliant metaphors
and pompous images, for they are fine talkers in that family! The father
talked even on the scaffold."

The perspiration of shame stood on the brow of Louis. He felt that it
was inconsistent with his dignity to hear his brother thus insulted, but
he did not yet know how to act with him to whom every one yielded, even
his mother. At last he made an effort.

"But," said he, "my lord cardinal, it is not five hundred men, it is only
two hundred."

"Well, but you see I guessed what he wanted."

"I never denied that you had a penetrating eye, and that was why I
thought you would not refuse my brother Charles a thing so simple and so
easy to grant him as what I ask of you in his name, my lord cardinal, or
rather in my own."

"Sire," said Mazarin, "I have studied policy thirty years; first, under