"Pasques-Dieu! and such treasure!" cried the king.

"Where is it?" asked Cornelius, who, by a singular provision of
nature, heard the remarks of the king and his physician, while
continuing himself almost torpid with thought and the shock of this
singular misfortune.

"Ha!" cried Coyctier, bursting into a diabolical, coarse laugh,
"somnambulists never remember on their waking what they have done when
asleep."

"Leave us," said the king.

When Louis XI. was alone with his silversmith, he looked at him and
chuckled coldly.

"Messire Hoogworst," he said, with a nod, "all treasures buried in
France belong to the king."

"Yes, sire, all is yours; you are the absolute master of our lives and
fortunes; but, up to this moment, you have only taken what you need."

"Listen to me, old crony; if I help you to recover this treasure, you
can surely, and without fear, agree to divide it with me."

"No, sire, I will not divide it; I will give it all to you, at my
death. But what scheme have you for finding it?"

"I shall watch you myself when you are taking your nocturnal tramps.
You might fear any one but me."