this species of
prostitution of the King, so niggard of his words, to a man of Bernard's
degree. I was not long in learning the cause of it, and I admired to see
how low the greatest kings sometimes find themselves reduced.

Our finances just then were exhausted. Desmarets no longer knew of what
wood to make a crutch. He had been to Paris knocking at every door. But
the most exact engagements had been so often broken that he found nothing
but excuses and closed doors. Bernard, like the rest, would advance
nothing. Much was due to him. In vain Desmarets represented to him the
pressing necessity for money, and the enormous gains he had made out of
the King. Bernard remained unshakeable. The King and the minister were
cruelly embarrassed. Desmarets said to the King that, after all was said
and done, only Samuel Bernard could draw them out of the mess, because it
was not doubtful that he had plenty of money everywhere; that the only
thing needed was to vanquish his determination and the obstinacy--even
insolence--he had shown; that he was a man crazy with vanity, and capable
of opening his purse if the King deigned to flatter him.

It was agreed, therefore, that Desmarets should invite Bernard to dinner
--should walk with him--and that the King should come and disturb them as
I have related. Bernard was the dupe of this scheme; he returned from
his walk with the King enchanted to such an extent that he said he would
prefer ruining himself rather than leave in embarrassment a Prince who
had just treated him so graciously, and whose eulogiums he uttered with
enthusiasm! Desmarets profited by this trick immediately, and drew much
more from it than he had proposed to himself..

The Prince de Leon had an adventure just about this time, which made much
noise. He was a great, ugly, idle, mischievous fellow, son of the Duc de
Rohan, who had given him the title I have just named. He had served in
one campaign very indolently, and then quitted the army, under pretence
of ill-health, to serve no more. Glib in speech, and with the manners of
the great world, he was full of caprices and fancies; although a great
gambler and spendthrift, he was miserly, and cared only for himself. He
had been enamoured of Florence, an actress, whom M. d'Orleans had for a
long time kept, and by whom he had children, one of whom is now
Archbishop of Cambrai. M. de Leon also had several children by this
creature, and spent large sums upon her. When he went