“I see that you are a fool!” cried Voltaire, angrily.  “If you were not a fool, you would know that Voltaire, the chamberlain of the king, would not undertake a business transaction which would stain his reputation or cast a shadow on his name.  When Voltaire makes this investment, you can understand that he is authorized to do so.”

“That being the case,” said Hirsch, humbly, “I am entirely satisfied, and will gladly serve your excellency.”

“If you fill this commission handsomely and promptly, you may feel assured of a reward.  Are you ambitious?  Would you not like a title?”

“Certainly I am ambitious.  I should be truly happy if I could obtain the title of ‘royal court agent.’”

“Well, buy these bonds for me in Dresden cheap, and you shall have this coveted title,” said the noble author of the “Henriade,” and other world-renowned works.

“I will buy them at thirty-five thalers.”

“And you will invest eighteen thousand thalers at this rate.  Our contract is made; now we will count the gold.  I have not the ready money—­I will give you drafts—­come into my study.—­There are three drafts,” said he, “one on Paris, one on your father, and one on the Jew Ephraim.  Get them cashed, good Hirsch, and bring me my Saxon bonds.”

“In eight days, your excellency, I will return with them, and you will have a clear profit of eleven thousand thalers.”

Voltaire’s eyes sparkled with joy.  “Eleven thousand thalers!” said he; “for a poor poet, who lives by his wits and his pen, that is a considerable sum.”

“You will realize that sum,” said Hirsch, with the solemn earnestness of a Jew when he has made a good trade.

Hirsch was about to withdraw, but Voltaire hastened after him, and seizing his arm, he cried out threateningly:  “You are not going without giving me your note?  You do not think that I am such a fool as to give you eighteen thousand thalers, and have nothing to prove it?”

“You excellency has my word of honor,” said the Jew, earnestly.

Voltaire laughed aloud.  “Your word! the honorable word of a man for eighteen thousand thalers!  My dear friend, we do not live in paradise, but in a so-called Christian city—­your worthy forefathers obtained for us this privilege.  Do you believe that I will trust one of their descendants?  Who will go my security that you will not, nail my innocence and my confiding heart upon the cross, and slay them if I should be unsuspicious enough to trust my money with you in this simple way?”

“I will give you ample security,” said Hirsch, taking a morocco case from his pocket.  “I did not know why your excellency sent for me.  I thought perhaps you wished to buy diamonds, and brought some along with me.  Look, sir! here are diamonds worth twenty-two thousand thalers!  I will leave them with you—­I, the poor Jew, do not fear that the great poet Voltaire will deceive and betray me.”