ber where the cage is, because that floor could not support
this cage by reason of its weight, twenty-seven livres fourteen sols
parisis."

The voice began to moan again.

"Mercy, sire! I swear to you that 'twas Monsieur the Cardinal d'Angers
and not I, who was guilty of treason."

"The mason is bold!" said the king. "Continue, Olivier." Olivier
continued,--

"To a joiner for window frames, bedstead, hollow stool, and other
things, twenty livres, two sols parisis."

The voice also continued.

"Alas, sire! will you not listen to me? I protest to you that 'twas
not I who wrote the matter to Monseigneur do Guyenne, but Monsieur le
Cardinal Balue."

"The joiner is dear," quoth the king. "Is that all?"

"No, sire. To a glazier, for the windows of the said chamber, forty-six
sols, eight deniers parisis."

"Have mercy, sire! Is it not enough to have given all my goods to my
judges, my plate to Monsieur de Torcy, my library to Master Pierre
Doriolle, my tapestry to the governor of the Roussillon? I am innocent.
I have been shivering in an iron cage for fourteen years. Have mercy,
sire! You will find your reward in heaven."

"Master Olivier," said the king, "the total?"

"Three hundred sixty-seven livres, eight sols, three deniers parisis.

"Notre-Dame!" cried the king. "This is an outrageous cage!"

He tore the book from Master Olivier's hands, and set to reckoning it
himself upon his fingers, examining the paper and the cage alternately.
Meanwhile, the prisoner could be heard sobbing. This was lugubrious in
the darkness, and their faces turned pale as they looked at each other.

"Fourteen years, sire! Fourteen years now! since the month of April,
1469. In the name of the Holy Mother of God, sire, listen to me! During
all this time you have enjoyed the heat of the sun. Shall I, frail
creature, never more behold the day? Mercy, sire! Be pitiful! Clemency
is a fine, royal virtue, which turns aside the currents of wrath. Does
your majesty believe that in the hour of death it will be a great
cause of content for a king never to have left any offence unpunished?
Besides, sire, I did not betray your majesty, 'twas Monsieur d'Angers;
and I have on my foot a very heavy chain, and a great ball of iron at
the end, much heavier than it should be in reason. Eh! sire! Have pity
on me!"

"Olivier," cried the king, throwing back his head, "I observe that they
charge me twenty sols a hogshead for plaster, while it is worth b