“We will explain all that to you,” said Aramis, sitting down, and making Fouquet sit down also. “Where shall I begin?”
“With this, first of all. Why does the King set me at liberty?”
“You ought rather to ask me what was his reason for having you arrested.”
“Since my arrest I have had time to think it over, and my idea is that it arises out of some slight feeling of jealousy. My fete put M. Colbert out of temper, and M. Colbert discovered some cause of complaint against me,- Belle-Isle, for instance.”
“No; there is no question at all just now of Belle-Isle.”
“What is it, then?”
“Do you remember those receipts for thirteen millions which M. de Mazarin contrived to get stolen from you?”
“Yes, of course.”
“Well, you are already pronounced to be a public robber.”
“Good heavens!”
“Oh, that is not all. Do you also remember that letter you wrote to La Valliere?”
“Alas! yes.”
“And that proclaims you a traitor and a suborner.”
“Why should he have pardoned me, then?”
“We have not yet arrived at that part of our argument. I wish you to be quite convinced of the fact itself. Observe this well: the King knows you to be guilty of an appropriation of public funds. Oh, of course I know that you have done nothing of the kind; but at all events the King has not seen the receipts, and he cannot do otherwise than believe you criminal.”
“I beg your pardon, I do not see-”
“You will see presently, though. The King, moreover, having read your love-letter to La Valliere, and the offers you there made her, cannot retain any doubt of your intention with regard to that young lady; you will admit that, I suppose?”
“Certainly; but conclude.”
“In a few words. The King is, therefore, a powerful, implacable, and eternal enemy for you.”
“Agreed. But am I, then, so powerful that he has not dared to sacrifice me, notwithstanding his hatred, with all the means which my weakness or my misfortunes may have given him as a hold upon me?”
“It is clear, beyond all doubt,” pursued Aramis, coldly, “that the King has quarrelled irreconcilably with you.”
“But since he absolves me-”
“Do you believe it?” asked the bishop, with a searching look.
“Without believing in his sincerity of heart, I believe in the truth of the fact.”
Aramis slightly shrugged his shoulders.
“But why, then, should Louis XIV have commissioned you to tell me what you have just stated?”
“The King charged me with nothing for you.”
“With nothing!” said the superintendent, stupefied. “But that order, then-”
“Oh, yes! you are quite right. There is an order, certainly”; and these words were pronounced by Aramis in so strange a tone that Fouquet could not suppress a movement of surprise.
“You are concealing something from me, I see.”
Aramis softly rubbed his white fingers over his chin, but said nothing.
“Does the King exile me?”
“Do not act as if you were playing at the game at which children play when they guess where a thing has been hidden, and are informed by a bell being rung when they are approaching near to it, or going away from it.”
“Speak, then.”
“Guess.”
“You alarm me.”
“Bah! that is because you have not guessed, then.”
“What did the King say to you? In the name of our friendship, do not deceive me!”
“The King has not said a word to me.”
“You are killing me with impatience, M. d’Herblay. Am I still superintendent?”
“As long as you like.”
“But what extraordinary empire have you so suddenly acquired over his Majesty’s mind?”
“Ah! that is it.”
“You make him do as you like.”
“I believe so.”
“It is hardly credible.”
“So any one would say.”
“D’Herblay, by our alliance, by our friendship, by everything you hold the dearest in the world, speak openly, I implore you. By what means have you succeeded in overcoming Louis XIV’s prejudices? He did not like you, I know.”
“The King will like me now,” said Aramis, laying a stress upon the last word.
“You and his Majesty have something particular, then, between you?”
“Yes.”
“A secret, perhaps?”