ility.

"Oh! oh!" he murmured at length, "this is serious indeed."

"Is it not?" said the king, uneasily.

"_Pulsus creber, anhelans, crepitans, irregularis_," continued the
leech.

"_Pasque-Dieu_!"

"This may carry off its man in less than three days."

"Our Lady!" exclaimed the king. "And the remedy, gossip?"

"I am meditating upon that, sire."

He made Louis XI. put out his tongue, shook his head, made a grimace,
and in the very midst of these affectations,--

"Pardieu, sire," he suddenly said, "I must tell you that there is
a receivership of the royal prerogatives vacant, and that I have a
nephew."

"I give the receivership to your nephew, Gossip Jacques," replied the
king; "but draw this fire from my breast."

"Since your majesty is so clement," replied the leech, "you will
not refuse to aid me a little in building my house, Rue
Saint-Andre-des-Arcs."

"Heugh!" said the king.

"I am at the end of my finances," pursued the doctor; "and it would
really be a pity that the house should not have a roof; not on account
of the house, which is simple and thoroughly bourgeois, but because of
the paintings of Jehan Fourbault, which adorn its wainscoating. There is
a Diana flying in the air, but so excellent, so tender, so delicate,
of so ingenuous an action, her hair so well coiffed and adorned with a
crescent, her flesh so white, that she leads into temptation those who
regard her too curiously. There is also a Ceres. She is another very
fair divinity. She is seated on sheaves of wheat and crowned with a
gallant garland of wheat ears interlaced with salsify and other flowers.
Never were seen more amorous eyes, more rounded limbs, a nobler air,
or a more gracefully flowing skirt. She is one of the most innocent and
most perfect beauties whom the brush has ever produced."

"Executioner!" grumbled Louis XI., "what are you driving at?"

"I must have a roof for these paintings, sire, and, although 'tis but a
small matter, I have no more money."

"How much doth your roof cost?"

"Why a roof of copper, embellished and gilt, two thousand livres at the
most."

"Ah, assassin!" cried the king, "He never draws out one of my teeth
which is not a diamond."

"Am I to have my roof?" said Coictier.

"Yes; and go to the devil, but cure me."

Jacques Coictier bowed low and said,--

"Sire, it is a repellent which will save you. We will apply to your
loins the great defensive composed of cerate, Armenian bole, whit