'For making a great wooden cage of heavy beams，joists，and rafters，measuring nine feet in length and eight in breadth，and seven feet high between roof and floor，mortised and bolted with great iron bolts；which has been placed in a certain chamber situated in one of the towers of the Bastille Saint-Antoine；in the which said cage is put and kept by command of our lord the King a prisoner，who before inhabited an old，decayed，and unserviceable cage.Used in the building of the said new cage，ninety-six horizontal beams and fifty-two perpendicular，ten joists，each three toises long.Employed in squaring，planing，and fitting the same wood-work in the yard of the Bastille，nineteen carpenters for twenty days—'
'Fine solid timber，that！'remarked the King，rapping his knuckles on the wood.
'Used in this cage，'continued the other，'two hundred and twenty great iron bolts nine feet and eight feet long，the rest of medium length，together with the plates and nuts for fastening the said bolts；the said iron weighing in all three thousand seven hundred and thirty-five pounds；besides eight heavy iron clamps for fixing the said cage in its place，altogether two hundred and eighteen pounds；without reckoning the iron of the grating to the windows of the chamber and other items—'
'Here's a deal of iron to restrain the levity of a spirit！'
'—The whole amounts to three hundred and seventeen livres，five sols，seven deniers.'
'Pasque-Dieu！'exclaimed the King.This oath，which was the favourite one of Louis XI，apparently aroused some one inside the cage：there was sound of clanking chains being dragged across its floor，and a feeble voice that seemed to issue from the tomb，wailed：'Sire！Sire，mercy！'The speaker was not visible.
'Three hundred and seventeen livres，five sols，seven deniers！'repeated Louis XI.
The voice of lamentation which had issued from the cage chilled the blood of all present，even M re Oliver.The King alone gave no evidence of having heard it.At his command Olivier resumed his reading，and his Majesty coolly continued his inspection of the cage.
'Besides the above，there has been paid to a mason，for making the holes to fix the window-grating and the flooring of the chamber containing the cage，forasmuch as the floor would not otherwise have supported the said cage by reason of its weight—twenty-seven livres，fourteen sols parisis—'
The voice began its wailing again.'Mercy，Sire！I swear to you it was Monsieur the Cardinal of Angers who committed the treason—not I！'
'The mason's charge is exorbitant！'said the King.'Go on，Olivier.'
Olivier went on：'To a joiner for window-frames，bed-stead，closet-stool，and other things—twenty livres，two sols parisis—'
The voice also went on：'Woe is me，Sire！will you not hear me？I protest that it was not I who wrote that to the Duke of Guyenne，but Monsieur the Cardinal Balue！'
'The joiner is dear，'observed 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！'cried the voice again.'Is it not enough that all my possessions have been given to my judges—my table service to M.de Torcy，my library to M re Pierre Doriolle，my tapestries to the Governor of Roussillon？I am innocent.Lo，these fourteen years have I shivered in an iron cage.Have mercy，Sire！and you shall find it in heaven！'
'M re Olivier，'said the King，'the total？'
'Three hundred and sixty-seven livres，eight sols，three deniers parisis—'
'Notre-Dame！'cried the King.''Tis an outrageous cage！'
He snatched the paper from Olivier's hand，and began to reckon it up himself on his fingers，examining the schedule and the cage by turns—while the prisoner was heard sobbing within it.It was a dismal scene in the darkness，and the bystanders paled as they looked at one another.
'Fourteen years，Sire！It is fourteen years—since April，1469.I conjure you in the name of the Holy Mother of God，listen to me，Sire！During all those years you have enjoyed the warmth of the sun；shall I，feeble wretch that I am，never see the light of day again？Mercy，Sire！Show mercy！Clemency is a noble virtue in a King，and turns aside the current of the wrath to come.Think you，your Majesty，that at the hour of death it will be a great satisfaction to a King to know that he has never let an offence go unpunished？Moreover，I never betrayed your Majesty—it was Monsieur of Angers.And I have a very heavy chain on my foot with a huge iron ball attached to it—far heavier than there is any need for.Oh，Sire，have pity on me！'
'Olivier，'said the King，shaking his head，'I observe that they charge me the bushel of plaster at twenty sols，though it is only worth twelve.You will draw up this memorandum afresh.'
He turned his back on the cage，and began to move towards the door of the chamber.The wretched prisoner judged by the withdrawal of the torchlight and by the sounds that the King was preparing to depart.
'Sire！Sire！'he cried in anguish.
The door closed.He saw nothing more，and heard nothing but the raucous voice of the turnkey singing close by：
'M re Jean Balue Has lost from view His bishoprics all.
Monsieur de Verdun Has now not got one；
They're gone，one and all.'
The King returned in silence to his closet，followed by his train，all horror-struck at the last bitter cry of the prisoner.Suddenly his Majesty turned to the Governor of the Bastille.
'By-the-bye，'said he，'was there not some one in that cage？'
'Pardieu！yes，Sire！'answered the governor，dumfounded by the question.
'And who？'
'Monsieur the Bishop of Verdun.'
The King knew that better than any one，but it was a way he had.
'Ah，'said he blandly，with the air of remembering it for the first time，'Guillaume de Harancourt，the friend of Monsieur the Cardinal Balue.A good fellow of a bishop！'
