The King, without rising, nodded to him, and with interest, “Well, how are you, M. Fouquet?” said he.
“I am in a high fever,” replied the superintendent; “but I am at the King’s service.”
“That is well; the States assemble tomorrow. Have you a speech ready?”
Fouquet looked at the King with astonishment. “I have not, Sire,” replied he; “but I will improvise one. I am too well acquainted with affairs to feel any embarrassment. I have only one question if your Majesty will permit me?”
“Certainly; ask it.”
“Why has your Majesty not done his first minister the honor to give him notice of this in Paris?”
“You were ill; I was not willing to fatigue you.”
“Never did a labor, never did an explanation, fatigue me, Sire; and since the moment is come for me to demand an explanation of my King-”
“Oh, M. Fouquet, an explanation upon what?”
“Upon your Majesty’s intentions with respect to myself.”
The King blushed. “I have been calumniated,” continued Fouquet, warmly; “and I feel called upon to incite the justice of the King to make inquiries.”
“You say this to me very uselessly, M. Fouquet; I know what I know.”
“Your Majesty can only know things as they have been told to you; and I, on my part, have said nothing to you, while others have spoken many and many times-”
“What do you wish to say?” said the King, impatient to put an end to this embarrassing conversation.
“I will go straight to the fact, Sire; and I accuse a man of having injured me in your Majesty’s opinion.”
“Nobody has injured you, M. Fouquet.”
“That reply proves to me, Sire, that I am right.”
“M. Fouquet, I do not like that one should accuse.”
“Not when one is accused?”
“We have already spoken too much about this affair.”
“Your Majesty will not allow me to justify myself?”
“I repeat that I do not accuse you.”
Fouquet, with a half-bow, made a step backwards. “It is certain,” thought he, “that he has made up his mind; he alone who cannot go back can show such obstinacy. Not to see the danger now would be to be blind indeed; not to shun it would be stupid.” He resumed aloud, “Did your Majesty send for me for any business?”
“No, M. Fouquet, but for some advice I have to give you.”
“I respectfully await it, Sire.”
“Rest yourself, M. Fouquet; do not throw away your strength. The session of the States will be short; and when my secretaries shall have closed it, I do not wish business to be talked of in France for a fortnight.”
“Has the King nothing to say to me on the subject of this assembly of the States?”
“No, M. Fouquet.”
“Not to me, the Superintendent of the Finances?”
“Rest yourself, I beg you; that is all I have to say to you.”
Fouquet bit his lips and hung down his head. He was evidently busy with some uneasy thought. This uneasiness struck the King. “Are you troubled at having to rest yourself, M. Fouquet?” said he.
“Yes, Sire; I am not accustomed to take rest.”
“But you are ill; you must take care of yourself.”
“Your Majesty spoke just now of a speech to be pronounced to-morrow.”
His Majesty made no reply; this unexpected stroke embarrassed him. Fouquet felt the weight of this hesitation. He thought he could read a danger in the eyes of the young King which his fear would precipitate. “If I appear frightened, I am lost,” thought he.
The King, on his part, was only uneasy at the alarm of Fouquet. “Has he a suspicion of anything?” murmured he.
“If his first word is severe,” again thought Fouquet,- “if he becomes angry, or feigns to be angry, for the sake of a pretext,- how shall I extricate myself? Let us smooth the declivity a little. Gourville was right.”
“Sire,” said he, suddenly, “since the goodness of the King watches over my health to the point of dispensing with my labor, may I not be allowed to be absent from the council of to-morrow? I could pass the day in bed, and will entreat the King to grant me his physician, that we may endeavor to find a remedy against this cursed fever.”