until the shabby felt came. And where are the millions which this
excellent economist saves from his personal expenses? The dragon War
devours them all. True, he has vanquished foes enough, but the demon of
melancholy, that makes even Dr. Mathys anxious, is far worse than the
infidels before whom you were compelled to retreat in Algiers--far more
terrible than the Turks and heretics combined. Yet what are you and the
wise treasurer doing? The idea of lessening the salaries of the
physician-in-ordinary and his colleagues has never entered the heads of
the estimable gentlemen who call themselves his Majesty's faithful
servants. Very well! Then put the musicians' travelling expenses upon
the apothecary's bill. They have as much right to be there as the senna
leaves. But, if the penny pinchers in the council of finance refuse to
advance the necessary funds, why--charge this medicine to my account.
I'll pay for it, in spite of the numerous leeches that suck my
substance."

"It certainly will not come to that, your Majesty," replied Quijada
soothingly. "Our sovereign lord knows, too, that it beseems him to be
less rigid in saving. Only yesterday he dipped into his purse deeply
enough for another remedy."

"What was that?" asked the Queen in surprise.

"He paid the debts of my colleague Malfalconnet, not less than ten
thousand ducats."

"There it is!" exclaimed the regent, striking her hands sharply
together. "The baron dispels the Emperor's melancholy by his ready wit,
which often hits the nail on the head, and his nimble tongue, but my
medicine must provide the fitting mood for Malfalconnet's dearly bought