“I pardon you, monseigneur!” said Bonacieux, hesitating to take the purse, fearing, doubtless, that this pretended gift was but a pleasantry. “But you are able to have me arrested, you are able to have me tortured, you are able to have me hanged; you are the master, and I could not have the least word to say. Pardon you, monseigneur! You cannot mean that!”

“Ah, my dear M. Bonacieux, you are generous in this matter. I see it and I thank you for it. Thus, then, you will take this bag, and you will go away without being too malcontent.”

“I go away enchanted.”

“Farewell, then, or rather, au revoir, for I hope we shall meet again.”

“Whenever Monseigneur wishes, I am always at his Eminence’s orders.”