subjects; for kings ought never to yield to any one in
anything.”
The king looked up.
“And yet,” interrupted Anne of Austria, “you are not a king,
that I know of, M. Fouquet.”
“Truly not, madame; therefore the horses only await the
orders of his majesty to enter the royal stables; and if I
allowed myself to try them, it was only for fear of offering
to the king anything that was not positively wonderful.”
The king became quite red.
“You know, Monsieur Fouquet,” said the queen, “that at the
court of France it is not the custom for a subject to offer
anything to his king.”
Louis started.
“I hoped, madame,” said Fouquet, much agitated, “that my
love for his majesty, my incessant desire to please him,
would serve to compensate the want of etiquette. It was not
so much a present that I permitted myself to offer, as the
tribute I paid.”
“Thank you, Monsieur Fouquet,” said the king politely, “and
I am gratified by your intention, for I love good horses;
but you know I am not very rich; you, who are my
superintendent of finances, know it better than any one
else. I am not able, then, however willing I may be, to
purchase such a valuable set of horses.”
Fouquet darted a haughty glance at the queen-mother, who
appeared to triumph at the false position in which the
minister had placed himself, and replied: —
“Luxury is the virtue of kings, sire: it is luxury which
makes them resemble God: it is by luxury they are more than
other men. With luxury a king nourishes his subjects, and
honors them. Under the mild heat of this luxury of kings
springs the luxury of individuals, a source of riches for
the people. His majesty, by accepting the gift of these six
incomparable horses, would stimulate the pride of his own
breeders, of Limousin, Perche, and Normandy, and this
emulation would have been beneficial to all. But the king is
silent, and consequently I am condemned.”
During this speech, Louis was, unconsciously, folding and
unfolding Mazarin’s paper, upon which he had not cast his
eyes. At length he glanced upon it, and uttered a faint cry
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Dumas, Alexandre – Ten Years Later
at reading the first line.
“What is the matter, my son?” asked the queen, anxiously,
and going towards the king.
“From the cardinal,” replied the king, continuing to read;
“yes, yes, it is really from him.”
“Is he worse, then?”
“Read!” said the king, passing the parchment to his mother,
as if he thought that nothing less than reading would
convince Anne of Austria of a thing so astonishing as was
conveyed in that paper.
Anne of Austria read in turn, and as she read, her eyes
sparkled with a joy all the greater from her useless
endeavor to hide it, which attracted the attention of
Fouquet.
“Oh! a regularly drawn up deed of gift,” said she.
“A gift?” repeated Fouquet.
“Yes,” said the king, replying pointedly to the
superintendent of finances, “yes, at the point of death,
monsieur le cardinal makes me a donation of all his wealth.”
“Forty millions,” cried the queen. “Oh, my son! this is very
noble on the part of his eminence, and will silence all
malicious rumors; forty millions scraped together slowly,
coming back all in one heap to the treasury! It is the act
of a faithful subject and a good Christian.” And having once
more cast her eyes over the act, she restored it to Louis
XIV., whom the announcement of the sum greatly agitated.
Fouquet had taken some steps backwards and remained silent.
The king looked at him, and held the paper out to him, in
turn. The superintendent only bestowed a haughty look of a
second upon it; then bowing, — “Yes, sire,” said he, “a
donation, I see.”
“You must reply to it, my son,” said Anne of Austria; “you
must reply to it, and immediately.”
“But how, madame?”
“By a visit to the cardinal.”
“Why, it is but an hour since I left his eminence,” said the
king.
“Write, then, sire.”
“Write!” said the young king, with evident repugnance.
“Well!” replied Anne of Austria, “it seems to me, my son,