"You have the abbey of Ciuny, which is rich?"
"I have."
"That of St. Midaré, at Soisson, with a revenua of on3 hundred thousand livres?"
"I cannot deny it."
"That of St. Victor, at Marseilles, one of the best in the south?"
"Yes, father."
"A good million a year. With the emoluments of the cardinalship and the ministry, I say too little when I say two millions a year."
"Eh?"
"In ten years that is twenty millions, and twenty millions placed out at fifty per cent, give, by progression, twenty- three millions in ten years."
"How well you reckon for a Theatin."
"Since your eminence placed our order in the convent we occupy, near St. Germain des Pres, in 1641, I have kept the accounts of the society."
"And mine likewise, apparently, father."
"One ought to know a little of everything, monseigneur."
"Very well. Conclude, at present "
"I conclude that your baggage is too heavy to allow you to pass through the gates of Paradise."
"Shall I be damned?"
"If you do not make restitution, yes."
Mazarin uttered a piteous cry. "Restitution! but to whom, good God?"
"To the owner of that money, to the king."
"But the king did not give it me all."
"A moment: does not the king sign the ordinances?"
Mazarin passed from sighs to groans. "Absolution! absoution!" cried he.
"Impossible, monseigneur. Restitution! restitution!" replied the Theatin.
"But you absolve me from all other sins, why not from that?"
"Because," replied the father, "to absolve you for that motive would be a sin from which the king would never absolve me, monseigneur."
Thereupon the confessor quitted his penitent with an air full of compunction. He then went out in the same manner as he had entered.
"Oh, good God!" groaned the cardinal. "Come here, Colbert; I am very, very ill indeed, my friend."
