that he had never been robbed at all,--that these melancholy
executions were the result of cool calculations, and that their real
object was to relieve him of all fear for his treasure.

The first effect of these rumors was to isolate Maitre Cornelius. The
Touraineans treated him like a leper, called him the "tortionnaire,"
and named his house Malemaison. If the Fleming had found strangers to
the town bold enough to enter it, the inhabitants would have warned
them against doing so. The most favorable opinion of Maitre Cornelius
was that of persons who thought him merely baneful. Some he inspired
with instinctive terror; others he impressed with the deep respect
that most men feel for limitless power and money, while to a few he
certainly possessed the attraction of mystery. His way of life, his
countenance, and the favor of the king, justified all the tales of
which he had now become the subject.

Cornelius travelled much in foreign lands after the death of his
persecutor, the Duke of Burgundy; and during his absence the king
caused his premises to be guarded by a detachment of his own Scottish
guard. Such royal solicitude made the courtiers believe that the old
miser had bequeathed his property to Louis XI. When at home, the
torconnier went out but little; but the lords of the court paid him
frequent visits. He lent them money rather liberally, though
capricious in his manner of doing so. On certain days he refused to
give them a penny; the next day he would offer them large
sums,--always at high interest and on good security. A good Catholic,
he went regularly to the services, always attending the earliest mass
at Saint-Martin; and as he had purchased there, as elsewhere, a chapel
in perpetuity, he was separated even in church from other Christians.
A popular proverb of that day, long remembered in Tours, was the