“To offer you my respects, Monseigneur,” said the latter.
“Were you in that lighter?” pointing to the one with twelve rowers.
“Yes, Monseigneur.”
“Of twelve rowers?” said Fouquet; “what luxury, M. Colbert! For a moment I thought it was the Queen-Mother or the King.”
“Monseigneur!” said Colbert, blushing.
“This is a voyage that will cost those who have to pay for it dear, Monsieur the Intendant!” said Fouquet. “But you have, happily, arrived! You see, however,” added he, a moment after, “that I, who had but eight rowers, arrived before you.” And he turned his back towards him, leaving him uncertain whether all the tergiversations of the second lighter had escaped the notice of the first. At least he did not give him the satisfaction of showing that he had been frightened.
Colbert, so annoyingly attacked, did not give way.
“I have not been quick, Monseigneur,” he replied, “because I followed your example whenever you stopped.”
“And why did you do that, M. Colbert?” cried Fouquet, irritated by this base audacity; “as you had a superior crew to mine, why did you not either join me or pass me?”
“Out of respect,” said the intendant, bowing to the ground.
Fouquet got into a carriage which the city sent to him, we know not why or how, and he repaired to the Maison de Nantes, escorted by a vast crowd of people, who for several days had been boiling with the expectation of a convocation of the States. Scarcely was he installed when Gourville went out to order horses upon the route to Poitiers and Vannes, and a boat at Paimboeuf. He performed these various operations with so much mystery, activity, and generosity that never was Fouquet, then laboring under an access of fever, more near being saved, except for the co-operation of that immense disturber of human projects,- chance.
A report was spread during the night that the King was coming in great haste upon post-horses, and that he would arrive within ten or twelve hours at latest. The people, while waiting for the King, were greatly rejoiced to see the Musketeers, just arrived with M. d’Artagnan, their captain, and quartered in the castle, of which they occupied all the posts, in quality of guard of honor. M. d’Artagnan, who was very polite, presented himself about ten o’clock at the lodgings of the superintendent, to pay his respectful compliments to him; and although the minister suffered from fever, although he was in such pain as to be bathed in sweat, he would receive M. d’Artagnan, who was delighted with that honor as will be apparent in the conversation they had together.
Chapter LXVI: Friendly Advice
FOUQUET had gone to bed, like a man who clings to life, and who economizes as much as possible that slender tissue of existence of which the shocks and angles of this world so quickly wear out the irreparable tenuity. D’Artagnan appeared at the door of the chamber, and was saluted by the superintendent with a very affable “Good-day.”
“Good-day, Monseigneur,” replied the musketeer; “how did you get through the journey?”
“Tolerably well, thank you.”
“And the fever?”
“But sadly. I drink as you see. I am scarcely arrived, and I have already levied a contribution of tisane upon Nantes.”
“You should sleep first, Monseigneur.”
“Eh, corbleu! my dear M. d’Artagnan, I should be very glad to sleep.”
“Who hinders you?”
“Why, you, in the first place.”
“I? Ah, Monseigneur!”
“No doubt you do. Is it at Nantes as it was at Paris; do you not come in the King’s name?”
“For Heaven’s sake, Monseigneur,” replied the captain, “leave the King alone! The day on which I shall come on the part of the King for the purpose you mean, take my word for it, I will not leave you long in doubt. You will see me place my hand on my sword, according to the ordonnance, and you will hear me say at once in my ceremonial voice, ‘Monseigneur, in the name of the King, I arrest you!'”
Fouquet trembled in spite of himself, the tone of the lively Gascon had been so natural and so vigorous. The representation of the fact was almost as frightful as the fact itself would be.