“He is watching us, without doubt.”
“I do not like uncertainty,” said Fouquet; “let us go straight up to him.”
“Oh, Monseigneur, do not do that,- the lighter is full of armed men.”
“He would arrest me, then, Gourville? Why does he not come on?”
“Monseigneur, it is not consistent with your dignity to go to meet even your ruin.”
“But to allow them to watch me like a malefactor!”
“Nothing tells us that they are watching you, Monseigneur; be patient!”
“What is to be done, then?”
“Do not stop; you were only going so fast to appear to obey the King’s order with zeal. Redouble the speed. He who lives will see!”
“That’s just. Come!” cried Fouquet; “since they remain stock-still yonder, let us go on.”
The skipper gave the signal, and Fouquet’s rowers resumed their task with all the success that could be looked for from men who had rested. Scarcely had the lighter made a hundred fathoms, when the other- that with the twelve rowers- resumed its course as well. This position lasted all the day, without any increase or diminution of distance between the two vessels. Towards evening Fouquet wished to try the intentions of his persecutor. He ordered his rowers to pull towards the shore as if to effect a landing. Colbert’s lighter imitated this manoeuvre, and steered towards the shore in a slanting direction. By the greatest chance, at the spot where Fouquet pretended to wish to land, a stableman from the Chateau de Langeais was following the flowery banks leading three horses in halters. Without doubt the people of the twelve-oared lighter fancied that Fouquet was directing his course towards horses prepared for his flight, for four or five men, armed with muskets, jumped from the lighter on to the shore, and marched along the banks, as if to gain ground on the horses and horsemen. Fouquet, satisfied of having forced the enemy to a demonstration, was content, and put his boat in motion again. Colbert’s people returned likewise to theirs, and the course of the two vessels was resumed with fresh perseverance. Upon seeing this, Fouquet felt himself threatened closely, and, “Well, Gourville,” said he, in a low voice, “what did I say at our last repast at my house? Am I going, or not, to my ruin?”
“Oh, Monseigneur!”
“These two boats, which contend with so much emulation, as if we were disputing, M. Colbert and I, a prize for swiftness on the Loire, do they not aptly represent our two fortunes; and do you not believe, Gourville, that one of the two will be wrecked at Nantes?”
“At least,” objected Gourville, “there is still uncertainty. You are about to appear at the States; you are about to show what sort of man you are; your eloquence and your genius for business are the buckler and sword that will serve for defence, if not for victory. The Bretons do not know you; and when they shall know you your cause is won! Oh! let M. Colbert look to it well, for his lighter is as much exposed as yours to being upset. Both go quickly, his faster than yours, it is true; we shall see which will be wrecked first.”
Fouquet, taking Gourville’s hand, “My friend,” said he, “it is all planned; remember the proverb, ‘First come, first served!’ Well, Colbert takes care not to pass me. He is a prudent man!”
He was right; the two lighters held their course as far as Nantes, watching each other. When the superintendent landed, Gourville hoped he would be able to seek refuge at once and have relays prepared. But at the landing, the second lighter joined the first, and Colbert, approaching Fouquet, saluted him on the quay with marks of the profoundest respect,- marks so significant, so public, that their result was the bringing of the whole population upon La Fosse. Fouquet was completely self-possessed; he felt that in his last moments of greatness he had obligations towards himself. He wished to fall from such a height that his fall should crush some one of his enemies. Colbert was there,- so much the worse for Colbert. The superintendent, therefore, coming up to him, replied with that arrogant winking of the eyes peculiar to him “What! is that you, M. Colbert?”