had turned out to M. Fouquet’s honor.”
Marguerite began to laugh in so cruel a manner that Madame
de Belliere could at that moment have delightedly plunged a
dagger in her bosom. “Dearest,” continued Marguerite, “there
is no longer any question of M. Fouquet’s honor; his safety
is concerned. Before three days are passed the ruin of the
superintendent will be complete.”
“Stay,” said the marquise, in her turn smiling, “that is
going a little too fast.”
“I said three days, because I wish to deceive myself with a
hope; but probably the catastrophe will be complete within
twenty-four hours.”
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Dumas, Alexandre – Ten Years Later
“Why so?”
“For the simplest of all reasons, — that M. Fouquet has no
more money.”
“In matters of finance, my dear Marguerite, some are without
money to-day, who to-morrow can procure millions.”
“That might be M. Fouquet’s case when he had two wealthy and
clever friends who amassed money for him, and wrung it from
every possible or impossible source; but those friends are
dead.”
“Money does not die, Marguerite; it may be concealed, but it
can be looked for, bought and found.”
“You see things on the bright side, and so much the better
for you. It is really very unfortunate that you are not the
Egeria of M. Fouquet; you might now show him the source
whence he could obtain the millions which the king asked him
for yesterday.”
“Millions!” said the marquise, in terror.
“Four — an even number.”
“Infamous!” murmured Madame de Belliere, tortured by her
friend’s merciless delight.
“M. Fouquet, I should think, must certainly have four
millions,” she replied, courageously.
“If he has those which the king requires to-day,” said
Marguerite, “he will not, perhaps, possess those which the
king will demand in a month or so.”
“The king will exact money from him again, then?”
“No doubt; and that is my reason for saying that the ruin of
poor M. Fouquet is inevitable. Pride will induce him to
furnish the money, and when he has no more, he will fall.”
“It is true,” said the marquise, trembling; “the plan is a
bold one; but tell me, does M. Colbert hate M. Fouquet so
very much?”
“I think he does not like him. M. Colbert is powerful; he
improves on close acquaintance, he has gigantic ideas, a
strong will, and discretion, he will rise.”
“He will be superintendent?”
“It is probable. Such is the reason, my dear marquise, why I
felt myself impressed in favor of that poor man, who once
loved, and even adored me; and why, when I see him so
unfortunate, I forgive his infidelity which I have reason to
believe he also regrets; and why, moreover, I should not
have been disinclined to afford him some consolation, or
some good advice; he would have understood the step I had
taken, and would have thought kindly of me for it. It is
gratifying to be loved, you know. Men value love more highly
when they are no longer blinded by its influence.”
The marquise, bewildered and overcome by these cruel
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Dumas, Alexandre – Ten Years Later
attacks, which had been calculated with the greatest nicety
and precision, hardly knew what answer to return; she even
seemed to have lost all power of thought. Her perfidious
friend’s voice had assumed the most affectionate tone; she
spoke as a woman, but concealed the instincts of a wolf.
“Well,” said Madame de Belliere, who had a vague hope that
Marguerite would cease to overwhelm a vanquished enemy, “why
do you not go and see M. Fouquet?”
“Decidedly, marquise, you have made me reflect. No, it would
be unbecoming for me to make the first advance. M. Fouquet
no doubt loves me, but he is too proud. I cannot expose
myself to an affront…. besides I have my husband to
consider. You tell me nothing? Very well, I shall consult M.
Colbert on the subject.” Marguerite rose smilingly, as
though to take leave, but the marquise had not the strength
to imitate her. Marguerite advanced a few paces, in order
that she might continue to enjoy the humiliating grief in
which her rival was plunged, and then said, suddenly, —
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