"Ah, sire!" cried Cornelius, flinging himself at the king's feet, "you
are the only man in the kingdom whom I would trust for such a service;
and I will try to prove my gratitude for your goodness, by doing my
utmost to promote the marriage of the Burgundian heiress with
Monseigneur. She will bring you a noble treasure, not of money, but of
lands, which will round out the glory of your crown."

"There, there, Dutchman, you are trying to hoodwink me," said the
king, with frowning brows, "or else you have already done so."

"Sire! can you doubt my devotion? you, who are the only man I love!"

"All that is talk," returned the king, looking the other in the eyes.
"You need not have waited till this moment to do me that service. You
are selling me your influence--Pasques-Dieu! to me, Louis XI.! Are you
the master, and am I your servant?"

"Ah, sire," said the old man, "I was waiting to surprise you agreeably
with news of the arrangements I had made for you in Ghent; I was
awaiting confirmation from Oosterlinck through that apprentice. What
has become of that young man?"

"Enough!" said the king; "this is only one more blunder you have
committed. I do not like persons to meddle in my affairs without my
knowledge. Enough! leave me; I wish to reflect upon all this."

Maitre Cornelius found the agility of youth to run downstairs to the
lower rooms where he was certain to find his sister.