full of gold. I give up all to you--"

"Come, come, crony," replied Louis XI., who was partly touched by the
sight of this strange suffering, "we shall find your treasure some
fine night, and the sight of such riches will give you heart to live.
I will come back in the course of this week--"

"As you please, sire."

At that answer the king, who had made a few steps toward the door of
the chamber, turned round abruptly. The two men looked at each other
with an expression that neither pen nor pencil can reproduce.

"Adieu, my crony," said Louis XI. at last in a curt voice, pushing up
his cap.

"May God and the Virgin keep you in their good graces!" replied the
silversmith humbly, conducting the king to the door of the house.

After so long a friendship, the two men found a barrier raised between
them by suspicion and gold; though they had always been like one man
on the two points of gold and suspicion. But they knew each other so
well, they had so completely the habit, one may say, of each other,
that the king could divine, from the tone in which Cornelius uttered
the words, "As you please, sire," the repugnance that his visits would
henceforth cause to the silversmith, just as the latter recognized a
declaration of war in the "Adieu, my crony," of the king.

Thus Louis XI. and his torconnier parted much in doubt as to the
conduct they ought in future to hold to each other. The monarch