"For having made a great cage of wood of solid beams， timbers and wall-plates， measuring nine feet in length by eight in breadth， and of the height of seven feet between the partitions， smoothed and clamped with great bolts of iron， which has been placed in a chamber situated in one of the towers of the Bastille Saint-Antoine， in which cage is placed and detained， by command of the king our lord， a prisoner who formerly inhabited an old， decrepit， and ruined cage.
There have been employed in making the said new cage， ninety-six horizontal beams， and fifty-two upright joists， ten wall plates three toises long； there have been occupied nineteen carpenters to hew， work， and fit all the said wood in the courtyard of the Bastille during twenty days.""Very fine heart of oak，" said the king， striking the woodwork with his fist.
"There have been used in this cage，" continued the other， "two hundred and twenty great bolts of iron， of nine feet， and of eight， the rest of medium length， with the rowels， caps and counterbands appertaining to the said bolts；weighing， the said iron in all， three thousand， seven hundred and thirty-five pounds； beside eight great squares of iron， serving to attach the said cage in place with clamps and nails weighing in all two hundred and eighteen pounds， not reckoning the iron of the trellises for the windows of the chamber wherein the cage hath been placed， the bars of iron for the door of the cage and other things.""'Tis a great deal of iron，" said the king， "to contain the light of a spirit.""The whole amounts to three hundred and seventeen livres， five sols， seven deniers.""~Pasque-Dieu~！" exclaimed the king.
At this oath， which was the favorite of Louis XI.， some one seemed to awaken in the interior of the cage； the sound of chains was heard， grating on the floor， and a feeble voice， which seemed to issue from the tomb was uplifted. "Sire！ sire！ mercy！" The one who spoke thus could not be seen.
"Three hundred and seventeen livres， five sols， seven deniers，"repeated Louis XI.
The lamentable voice which had proceeded from the cage had frozen all present， even Master Olivier himself. The king alone wore the air of not having heard. At his order， Master Olivier resumed his reading， and his majesty coldly continued his inspection of the cage.
"In addition to this there hath been paid to a mason who hath made the holes wherein to place the gratings of the windows， and the floor of the chamber 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 but twelve. You will refer back this account."He turned his back on the cage， and set out to leave the room. The miserable prisoner divined from the removal of the torches and the noise， that the king was taking his departure.
"Sire！ sire！" be cried in despair.
The door closed again. He no longer saw anything， and heard only the hoarse voice of the turnkey， singing in his ears this ditty，--"~Ma？tre Jean Balue， A perdu la vue De ses évêchés.
Monsieur de Verdun.
N'en a plus pas un；
Tous sont dépêchés~."*
* Master Jean Balue has lost sight of his bishoprics.
Monsieur of Verdun has no longer one； all have been killed off.
The king reascended in silence to his retreat， and his suite followed him， terrified by the last groans of the condemned man. All at once his majesty turned to the Governor of the Bastille，--"By the way，" said he， "was there not some one in that cage？""Pardieu， yes sire！" replied the governor， astounded by the question.
"And who was it？"
"Monsieur the Bishop of Verdun."
The king knew this better than any one else. But it was a mania of his.
