Maitre Cornelius Part 8

"I!" exclaimed Cornelius; after that one word, he remained silent, and stood stock-still like a man who has lost the use of his limbs.

"Go away, all of you," said the king, addressing the archers, "and tell Messieurs Conyngham, Coyctier, Bridore, and also Tristan, to leave their rooms and come here to mine.--You have incurred the penalty of death,"

he said to Cornelius, who, happily, did not hear him. "You have ten murders on your conscience!"

Thereupon Louis XI. gave a silent laugh, and made a pause. Presently, remarking the strange pallor on the Fleming's face, he added:--

"You need not be uneasy; you are more valuable to bleed than to kill.

You can get out of the claws of _my_ justice by payment of a good round sum to my treasury, but if you don't build at least one chapel in honor of the Virgin, you are likely to find things hot for you throughout eternity."

"Twelve hundred and thirty, and eighty-seven thousand crowns, make thirteen hundred and seventeen thousand crowns," replied Cornelius mechanically, absorbed in his calculations. "Thirteen hundred and seventeen thousand crowns hidden somewhere!"

"He must have buried them in some hiding-place," muttered the king, beginning to think the sum royally magnificent. "That was the magnet that invariably brought him back to Tours. He felt his treasure."

Coyctier entered at this moment. Noticing the att.i.tude of Maitre Cornelius, he watched him narrowly while the king related the adventure.

"Sire," replied the physician, "there is nothing supernatural in that.

Your silversmith has the faculty of walking in his sleep. This is the third case I have seen of that singular malady. If you would give yourself the amus.e.m.e.nt of watching him at such times, you would see that old man stepping without danger at the very edge of the roof. I noticed in the two other cases I have already observed, a curious connection between the actions of that nocturnal existence and the interests and occupations of their daily life."

"Ah! Maitre Coyctier, you are a wise man."

"I am your physician," replied the other, insolently.

At this answer, Louis XI. made the gesture which was customary with him when a good idea was presented to his mind; he shoved up his cap with a hasty motion.

"At such times," continued Coyctier, "persons attend to their business while asleep. As this man is fond of h.o.a.rding, he has simply pursued his dearest habit. No doubt each of these attacks have come on after a day in which he has felt some fears about the safety of his treasure."

"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, coa.r.s.e 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."

"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 grat.i.tude for your goodness, by doing my utmost to promote the marriage of the Burgundian heiress with Monseigneur. She will bring you a n.o.ble 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.

"Ah! Jeanne, my dearest soul, a h.o.a.rd is hidden in this house; I have put thirteen hundred thousand crowns and all the jewels somewhere. I, I, I am the robber!"

Jeanne Hoogworst rose from her stool and stood erect as if the seat she quitted were of red-hot iron. This shock was so violent for an old maid accustomed for years to reduce herself by voluntary fasts, that she trembled in every limb, and horrible pains were in her back. She turned pale by degrees, and her face,--the changes in which were difficult to decipher among its wrinkles,--became distorted while her brother explained to her the malady of which he was the victim, and the extraordinary situation in which he found himself.

"Louis XI. and I," he said in conclusion, "have just been lying to each other like two peddlers of coconuts. You understand, my girl, that if he follows me, he will get the secret of the hiding-place. The king alone can watch my wanderings at night. I don't feel sure that his conscience, near as he is to death, can resist thirteen hundred thousand crowns. We MUST be beforehand with him; we must find the hidden treasure and send it to Ghent, and you alone--"

Cornelius stopped suddenly, and seemed to be weighing the heart of the sovereign who had had thoughts of parricide at twenty-two years of age.

When his judgment of Louis XI. was concluded, he rose abruptly like a man in haste to escape a pressing danger. At this instant, his sister, too feeble or too strong for such a crisis, fell stark; she was dead.

Maitre Cornelius seized her, and shook her violently, crying out:

"You cannot die now. There is time enough later--Oh! it is all over. The old hag never could do anything at the right time."

He closed her eyes and laid her on the floor. Then the good and n.o.ble feelings which lay at the bottom of his soul came back to him, and, half forgetting his hidden treasure, he cried out mournfully:--

"Oh! my poor companion, have I lost you?--you who understood me so well!

Oh! you were my real treasure. There it lies, my treasure! With you, my peace of mind, my affections, all, are gone. If you had only known what good it would have done me to live two nights longer, you would have lived, solely to please me, my poor sister! Ah, Jeanne! thirteen hundred thousand crowns! Won't that wake you?--No, she is dead!"

Thereupon, he sat down, and said no more; but two great tears issued from his eyes and rolled down his hollow cheeks; then, with strange exclamations of grief, he locked up the room and returned to the king.

Louis XI. was struck with the expression of sorrow on the moistened features of his old friend.

"What is the matter?" he asked.

"Ah! sire, misfortunes never come singly. My sister is dead. She precedes me there below," he said, pointing to the floor with a dreadful gesture.

"Enough!" cried Louis XI., who did not like to hear of death.

"I make you my heir. I care for nothing now. Here are my keys. Hang me, if that's your good pleasure. Take all, ransack the house; it is 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, pus.h.i.+ng up his cap.

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