“The King is master everywhere, Sire; your Majesty will draw up your own list and give your own orders. All those you may deign to invite will be my guests,- my honored guests indeed.”
“I thank you!” returned the King, touched by the noble thought expressed in so noble a tone.
Fouquet therefore took leave of Louis XIV, after a few words had been added with regard to the details of certain matters of business. He felt that Colbert would remain behind with the King, that they would both converse about him, and that neither of them would spare him in the least degree. The satisfaction of being able to give a last and terrible blow to his enemy seemed to him almost like a compensation for everything to which they were about to subject him. He turned back again immediately, when he had already reached the door, and addressing the King, “Pardon, Sire,” said he,- “pardon!”
“Pardon for what?” said the King, graciously.
“For a serious fault which I committed unawares.”
“A fault! You! Ah, M. Fouquet, I shall be unable to do otherwise than forgive you. In what way or against whom have you been found wanting?”
“Against all propriety, Sire. I forgot to inform your Majesty of a circumstance of considerable importance.”
“What is it?”
Colbert trembled; he expected a denunciation. His conduct had been unmasked. A single syllable from Fouquet, a single proof formally advanced, and before the youthful loyalty of Louis XIV Colbert’s favor would disappear at once. The latter trembled, therefore, lest so daring a blow might not overthrow his whole scaffold. In point of fact, the opportunity was so admirably suited to be taken advantage of, that a skilful player like Aramis would not have let it slip. “Sire,” said Fouquet, with an easy air, “since you have had the kindness to forgive me, I am indifferent about my confession: this morning I sold one of the official appointments I hold.”
“One of your appointments?” said the King; “which?”
Colbert turned livid. “That which conferred upon me, Sire, a grand gown and an air of gravity,- the appointment of procureur-general.”
The King involuntarily uttered a loud exclamation and looked at Colbert, who with his face bedewed with perspiration felt almost on the point of fainting. “To whom have you sold this appointment, M. Fouquet?” inquired the King.
Colbert was obliged to lean against the side of the fire-place.
“To a councillor belonging to the parliament, Sire, whose name is Vanel.”
“Vanel?”
“A friend of the intendant Colbert,” added Fouquet, letting every word fall from his lips with inimitable nonchalance, and with an admirably assumed expression of forgetfulness and ignorance which neither painter, actor, nor poet could reproduce with brush, gesture, or pen. Then having finished, having overwhelmed Colbert beneath the weight of this superiority, the superintendent again saluted the King and quitted the room, partially revenged by the stupefaction of the King and the humiliation of the favorite.
“Is it really possible,” said the King, as soon as Fouquet had disappeared, “that he has sold that office?”
“Yes, Sire,” said Colbert, meaningly.
“He must be mad,” the King added.
Colbert this time did not reply; he had penetrated the King’s thought. That thought promised him revenge. His hatred was augmented by jealousy; and a threat of disgrace was now added to the plan he had arranged for his ruin. Colbert felt assured that for the future, as between Louis XIV and himself, his hostile ideas would meet with no obstacles, and that at the first fault committed by Fouquet which could be laid hold of as a pretext, the chastisement impending over him would be precipitated. Fouquet had thrown aside his weapons of defence; Hate and Jealousy had picked them up.
Colbert was invited by the King to the fete at Vaux; he bowed like a man confident in himself, and accepted the invitation with the air of one who confers a favor. The King was about writing down De Saint-Aignan’s name on his list of invitations, when the usher announced the Comte de Saint-Aignan. As soon as the royal “Mercury” entered, Colbert discreetly withdrew.
Chapter XVIII: Rival Lovers
DE SAINT-AIGNAN had quitted Louis XIV hardly two hours before; but in the first effervescence of his affection, whenever Louis XIV did not see La Valliere he was obliged to talk of her. Now, the only person with whom he could speak about her at his ease was De Saint-Aignan, and that person had therefore become indispensable to him.