cabinet; the king raised his head proudly. “Your pardon,
Monsieur d’Artagnan,” said he; “it is M. Colbert, who comes
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to make me a report. Come in M. Colbert.”
D’Artagnan drew back. Colbert entered with papers in his
hand, and went up to the king. There can be little doubt
that the Gascon did not lose the opportunity of applying his
keen, quick glance to the new figure which presented itself.
“Is the inquiry made?”
“Yes, sire.”
“And the opinion of the inquisitors?”
“Is that the accused merit confiscation and death.”
“Ah! ah!” said the king, without changing countenance, and
casting an oblique look at D’Artagnan. “And your own
opinion, M. Colbert?” said he.
Colbert looked at D’Artagnan in his turn. That imposing
countenance checked the words upon his lips. Louis perceived
this. “Do not disturb yourself,” said he; “it is M.
d’Artagnan, — do you not know M. d’Artagnan again?”
These two men looked at each other — D’Artagnan, with eyes
open and bright as the day — Colbert, with his half closed,
and dim. The frank intrepidity of the one annoyed the other;
the circumspection of the financier disgusted the soldier.
“Ah! ah! this is the gentleman who made that brilliant
stroke in England,” said Colbert. And he bowed slightly to
D’Artagnan.
“Ah! ah!” said the Gascon, “this is the gentleman who
clipped off the lace from the uniform of the Swiss! A
praiseworthy piece of economy.”
The financier thought to pierce the musketeer; but the
musketeer ran the financier through.
“Monsieur d’Artagnan,” resumed the king, who had not
remarked all the shades of which Mazarin would have missed
not one, “this concerns the farmers of the revenue who have
robbed me, whom I am hanging, and whose death-warrants I am
about to sign.”
“Oh! oh!” said D’Artagnan, starting.
“What did you say?”
“Oh! nothing, sire. This is no business of mine.”
The king had already taken up the pen, and was applying it
to the paper. “Sire,” said Colbert in a subdued voice, “I
beg to warn your majesty, that if an example be necessary,
there will be difficulty in the execution of your orders.”
“What do you say?” said Louis.
“You must not conceal from yourself,” continued Colbert
quietly, “that attacking the farmers-general is attacking
the superintendence. The two unfortunate guilty men in
question are the particular friends of a powerful personage,
and the punishment, which otherwise might be comfortably
confined to the Chatelet will doubtless be a signal for
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disturbances!”
Louis colored and turned towards D’Artagnan, who took a
slight bite at his mustache, not without a smile of pity for
the financier, and for the king who had to listen to him so
long. But Louis seized the pen, and with a movement so
rapid, that his hand shook, he affixed his signature at the
bottom of the two papers presented by Colbert, — then
looking the latter in the face, — “Monsieur Colbert'” said
he, “when you speak to me on business, exclude more
frequently the word difficulty from your reasonings and
opinions; as to the word impossibility, never pronounce it.”
Colbert bowed, much humiliated at having to undergo such a
lesson before the musketeer; he was about to go out, but,
jealous to repair his check: “I forgot to announce to your
majesty,” said he, “that the confiscations amount to the sum
of five millions of livres.”
“That’s pretty well!” thought D’Artagnan.
“Which makes in my coffers?” said the king.
“Eighteen millions of livres, sire,” replied Colbert,
bowing.
“Mordioux!” growled D’Artagnan, “that’s glorious!”
“Monsieur Colbert,” added the king, “you will, if you
please, go through the gallery where M. Lyonne is waiting,
and will tell him to bring hither what he has drawn up — by
my order.”
“Directly, sire; if your majesty wants me no more this
evening?”
“No, monsieur: good-night!” And Colbert went out.
“Now, let us return to our affair, M. d’Artagnan,” said the
king, as if nothing had happened. “You see that, with
respect to money, there is already a notable change.”
“Something to the tune of from zero to eighteen millions,”
replied the musketeer, gayly. “Ah! that was what your