“What, do you excuse him?” cried Fouquet; “a fellow without
a heart, without ideas; a devourer of wealth.”
“He knows you are rich.”
“And would ruin me.”
“No, but he would like to have your purse. That is all.”
“Enough! enough! A hundred thousand crowns per month, during
two years. Corbleu! it is I that pay, Gourville, and I know
my figures.” Gourville laughed in a silent, sly manner.
“Yes, yes, you mean to say it is the king pays,” said the
superintendent. “Ah, Gourville, that is a vile joke; this is
not the place.”
“Monseigneur, do not be angry.”
“Well, then, send away the Abbe Fouquet; I have not a sou.”
Gourville made a step towards the door. “He has been a month
without seeing me,” continued Fouquet, “why could he not be
two months?”
“Because he repents of living in bad company,” said
Gourville, “and prefers you to all his bandits.”
“Thanks for the preference! You make a strange advocate,
Gourville, to-day — the advocate of the Abbe Fouquet!”
“Eh! but everything and every man has a good side — their
useful side, monseigneur.”
“The bandits whom the abbe keeps in pay and drink have their
useful side, have they? Prove that, if you please.”
“Let the circumstance arise, monseigneur, and you will be
very glad to have these bandits under your hand.”
“You advise me, then, to be reconciled to the abbe?” said
Fouquet, ironically.
“I advise you, monseigneur, not to quarrel with a hundred or
a hundred and twenty loose fellows, who, by putting their
rapiers end to end, would form a cordon of steel capable of
surrounding three thousand men.”
Fouquet darted a searching glance at Gourville, and passing
before him, — “That is all very well, let M. l’Abbe Fouquet
be introduced,” said he to the footman. “You are right,
Gourville.”
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Dumas, Alexandre – Ten Years Later
Two minutes after, the Abbe Fouquet appeared in the doorway,
with profound reverences. He was a man of from forty to
forty-five years of age, half churchman half soldier, — a
spadassin, grafted upon an abbe; upon seeing that he had not
a sword by his side, you might be sure he had pistols.
Fouquet saluted him more as an elder brother than as a
minister.
“What can I do to serve you, monsieur l’abbe?” said he.
“Oh! oh! how coldly you speak to me, brother!”
“I speak like a man who is in a hurry, monsieur.”
The abbe looked maliciously at Gourville, and anxiously at
Fouquet, and said, “I have three hundred pistoles to pay to
M. de Bregi this evening. A play debt, a sacred debt.”
“What next?” said Fouquet bravely, for he comprehended that
the Abbe Fouquet would not have disturbed him for such a
want.
“A thousand to my butcher, who will supply no more meat.”
“Next?”
“Twelve hundred to my tailor,” continued the abbe; “the
fellow has made me take back seven suits of my people’s,
which compromises my liveries, and my mistress talks of
replacing me by a farmer of the revenue, which would be a
humiliation for the church.”
“What else?” said Fouquet.
“You will please to remark,” said the abbe, humbly, “that I
have asked nothing for myself.”
“That is delicate, monsieur,” replied Fouquet; “so, as you
see, I wait.”
“And I ask nothing, oh! no, — it is not for want of need,
though, I assure you.”
The minister reflected a minute. “Twelve hundred pistoles to
the tailor; that seems a great deal for clothes,” said he.
“I maintain a hundred men,” said the abbe, proudly; “that is
a charge, I believe.”
“Why a hundred men?” said Fouquet. “Are you a Richelieu or a
Mazarin, to require a hundred men as a guard? What use do
you make of these men? — speak.”
“And do you ask me that?” cried the Abbe Fouquet; “ah! how
can you put such a question, — why I maintain a hundred
men? Ah!”
“Why, yes, I do put that question to you. What have you to
do with a hundred men? — answer.”
“Ingrate!” continued the abbe, more and more affected.
“Explain yourself.”
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Dumas, Alexandre – Ten Years Later