“What millions, father?”

“Why, those you possess, my lord.”

“Father, that money is mine, why should I speak to you about that?”

“Because, you see, our opinions differ. You say that money is yours, whilst I — I believe it is rather the property of others.”

Mazarin lifted his cold hand to his brow, which was beaded with perspiration. “How so?” stammered he.

“This way. Your excellency had gained much wealth — in the service of the king.”

“Hum! much — that is, not too much.”

“Whatever it may be, whence came that wealth?”