haughtiest disdain, “simply to count the money: a million
can only be drawn and weighed in a day.”
“Four days then,” said Colbert.
“My clerks,” replied Fouquet, addressing himself to the
king, “will perform wonders on his majesty’s service, and
the sum shall be ready in three days.”
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Dumas, Alexandre – Ten Years Later
It was for Colbert now to turn pale. Louis looked at him
astonished. Fouquet withdrew without any parade or weakness,
smiling at his numerous friends, in whose countenances alone
he read the sincerity of their friendship — an interest
partaking of compassion. Fouquet, however, should not be
judged by his smile, for, in reality he felt as if he had
been stricken by death. Drops of blood beneath his coat
stained the fine linen that clothed his chest. His dress
concealed the blood, and his smile the rage which devoured
him. His domestics perceived, by the manner in which he
approached his carriage, that their master was not in the
best of humors: the result of their discernment was, that
his orders were executed with that exactitude of maneuver
which is found on board a man-of-war, commanded during a
storm by an ill-tempered captain. The carriage, therefore,
did not simply roll along — it flew. Fouquet had hardly
time to recover himself during the drive; on his arrival he
went at once to Aramis, who had not yet retired for the
night. As for Porthos, he had supped very agreeably off a
roast leg of mutton, two pheasants, and a perfect heap of
cray-fish; he then directed his body to be anointed with
perfumed oils, in the manner of the wrestlers of old; and
when this anointment was completed, he had himself wrapped
in flannels and placed in a warm bed. Aramis, as we have
already said, had not retired. Seated at his ease in a
velvet dressing-gown, he wrote letter after letter in that
fine and hurried handwriting, a page of which contained a
quarter of a volume. The door was thrown hurriedly open, and
the superintendent appeared, pale, agitated, anxious. Aramis
looked up: “Good-evening,” said he, and his searching look
detected his host’s sadness and disordered state of mind.
“Was your play as good as his majesty’s?” asked Aramis, by
way of beginning the conversation.
Fouquet threw himself upon a couch, and then pointed to the
door to the servant who had followed him; when the servant
had left he said, “Excellent.”
Aramis, who had followed every movement with his eyes,
noticed that he stretched himself upon the cushions with a
sort of feverish impatience. “You have lost as usual?”
inquired Aramis, his pen still in his hand.
“Even more than usual,” replied Fouquet.
“You know how to support losses?”
“Sometimes.”
“What, Monsieur Fouquet a bad player!”
“There is play and play, Monsieur d’Herblay.”
“How much have you lost?” inquired Aramis, with a slight
uneasiness.
Fouquet collected himself a moment, and then, without the
slightest emotion, said, “The evening has cost me four
millions,” and a bitter laugh drowned the last vibration of
these words.
Aramis, who did not expect such an amount, dropped his pen.
“Four millions,” he said; “you have lost four millions, —
impossible!”
Page 586
Dumas, Alexandre – Ten Years Later
“Monsieur Colbert held my cards for me,” replied the
superintendent, with a similar bitter laugh.
“Ah, now I understand; so, so, a new application for funds?”
“Yes, and from the king’s own lips. It was impossible to
ruin a man with a more charming smile. What do you think of
it?”
“It is clear that your destruction is the object in view.”
“That is your opinion?”
“Still. Besides, there is nothing in it which should
astonish you, for we have foreseen it all along”
“Yes; but I did not expect four millions.”
“No doubt the amount is serious, but, after all, four
millions are not quite the death of a man, especially when
the man in question is Monsieur Fouquet.”
“My dear D’Herblay, if you knew the contents of my coffers,
you would be less easy.”
“And you promised?”
“What could I do?”
“That’s true.”
“The very day I refuse, Colbert will procure the money;
whence I know not, but he will procure it: and I shall be