Pellisson looked with a surprised air at Fouquet, whose thoughts were from that moment fixed upon a fresh object.
“Well!” inquired La Fontaine, “what about my negotiation?”
“Admirable, my dear poet!”
“Yes,” said Gourville; “but there are some persons who are anxious to have the steed who have not money enough to pay for the bridle.”
“And Vanel would draw back from his offer if he were to be taken at his word,” continued the Abbe Fouquet.
“I do not believe it,” said La Fontaine.
“What do you know about it?”
“Why, you have not yet heard the denouement of my story.”
“If there is a denouement, why do you beat about the bush so much?”
“Semper ad adventum. Is that correct?” said Fouquet, with the air of a nobleman who condescends to barbarisms. The Latinists clapped their hands.
“My denouement,” cried La Fontaine, “is that Vanel, that determined black bird, knowing that I was coming to St. Mande, implored me to bring him with me, and, if possible, to present him to M. Fouquet.”
“So that-”
“So that he is here; I left him in that part of the grounds called Bel-Air. Well, M. Fouquet, what is your reply?”
“Well, it is not fitting that the husband of Madame Vanel should catch cold on my grounds. Send for him, La Fontaine, since you know where he is.”
“I will go myself.”
“And I will accompany you,” said the Abbe Fouquet; “I can carry the money-bags.”
“No jesting,” said Fouquet, seriously; “let the business be a serious one if it is to be one at all. But, first of all, let us be hospitable. Make my apologies, La Fontaine, to that gentleman, and tell him that I am distressed to have kept him waiting, but that I was not aware he was there.”
La Fontaine set off at once, fortunately accompanied by Gourville; for absorbed in his own calculations, the poet would have mistaken the route, and was hurrying as fast as he could towards the village of St. Maur.
Within a quarter of an hour afterwards M. Vanel was introduced into the superintendent’s cabinet, the description and details of which have already been given at the beginning of this history. When Fouquet saw him enter, he called Pellisson, and whispered a few words in his ear: “Do not lose a word of what I am going to say. Let all the silver and gold plate, together with the jewels of every description, be packed up in the carriage. You will take the black horses; the jeweller will accompany you; and you will postpone the supper until Madame de Belliere’s arrival.”
“Will it be necessary to notify Madame de Belliere?” said Pellisson.
“No, that will be useless; I will do that.”
“Very well.”
“Go my friend!”
Pellisson set off, not quite clear as to his friend’s meaning or intention, but confident, like every true friend, in the judgment of the man he was blindly obeying. It is that which constitutes the strength of such men; distrust is awakened only by inferior natures.
Vanel bowed low to the superintendent, and was about to begin a speech.
“Be seated, Monsieur!” said Fouquet, politely. “I am told that you wish to purchase a post I hold. How much can you give me for it?”
“It is for you, Monseigneur, to fix the price. I know that offers of purchase have already been made to you for it.”
“Madame Vanel, I have been told, values it at fourteen hundred thousand livres.”
“That is all we have.”
“Can you give me the money immediately?”
“I have not the money with me,” said Vanel, frightened almost by the unpretending simplicity, amounting to greatness, of the man; for he had expected disputes and difficulties, and opposition of every kind.
“When will you be able to have it?”
“Whenever you please, Monseigneur”; and he began to be afraid that Fouquet was trifling with him.
“If it were not for the trouble you would have in returning to Paris, I would say at once; but we will arrange that the payment and the signature shall take place at six o’clock to-morrow morning.”
“Very good,” said Vanel, as cold as ice, and feeling quite bewildered.