“Why, monsieur the superintendent, I only want one valet de
chambre, for my part, and even if I were alone, could help
myself very well; but you, you who have so many enemies — a
hundred men are not enough for me to defend you with. A
hundred men! — you ought to have ten thousand. I maintain,
then, these men in order that in public places, in
assemblies, no voice may be raised against you, and without
them, monsieur, you would be loaded with imprecations, you
would be torn to pieces, you would not last a week; no, not
a week, do you understand?”
“Ah! I did not know you were my champion to such an extent,
monsieur l’abbe.”
“You doubt it!” cried the abbe. “Listen, then, to what
happened, no longer ago than yesterday, in the Rue de la
Hochette. A man was cheapening a fowl.”
“Well, how could that injure me, abbe?”
“This way. The fowl was not fat. The purchaser refused to
give eighteen sous for it, saying that he could not afford
eighteen sous for the skin of a fowl from which M. Fouquet
had sucked all the fat.”
“Go on.”
“The joke caused a deal of laughter,” continued the abbe;
“laughter at your expense, death to the devils! and the
canaille were delighted. The joker added, `Give me a fowl
fed by M. Colbert, if you like! and I will pay all you ask.’
And immediately there was a clapping of hands. A frightful
scandal! you understand; a scandal which forces a brother to
hide his face.”
Fouquet colored. “And you veiled it?” said the
superintendent.
“No, for it so happened I had one of my men in the crowd; a
new recruit from the provinces, one M. Menneville, whom I
like very much. He made his way through the press, saying to
the joker: `Mille barbes! Monsieur the false joker, here’s a
thrust for Colbert!’ `And one for Fouquet,’ replied the
joker. Upon which they drew in front of the cook’s shop,
with a hedge of the curious round them, and five hundred as
curious at the windows.”
“Well?” said Fouquet.
“Well, monsieur, my Menneville spitted the joker, to the
great astonishment of the spectators, and said to the cook:
— `Take this goose, my friend, it is fatter than your
fowl.’ That is the way, monsieur,” ended the abbe,
triumphantly, “in which I spend my revenues; I maintain the
honor of the family, monsieur.” Fouquet hung his head. “And
I have a hundred as good as he,” continued the abbe.
“Very well,” said Fouquet, “give the account to Gourville,
and remain here this evening.”
“Shall we have supper?”
“Yes, there will be supper.”
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Dumas, Alexandre – Ten Years Later
“But the chest is closed.”
“Gourville will open it for you. Leave us, monsieur l’abbe,
leave us.”
“Then we are friends?” said the abbe, with a bow.
Oh yes. friends. Come Gourville.”
“Are you going out? You will not stay to supper, then?”
“I shall be back in an hour; rest easy, abbe.” Then aside to
Gourville — “Let them put to my English horses,” said he,
“and direct the coachman to stop at the Hotel de Ville de
Paris.”
CHAPTER 56
M. de la Fontaine’s Wine
Carriages were already bringing the guests of Fouquet to
Saint-Mande; already the whole house was getting warm with
the preparations for supper, when the superintendent
launched his fleet horses upon the road to Paris, and going
by the quays, in order to meet fewer people on the way, soon
reached the Hotel de Ville. It wanted a quarter to eight.
Fouquet alighted at the corner of the Rue de Long-pont, and,
on foot, directed his course towards the Place de Greve,
accompanied by Gourville. At the turning of the Place they
saw a man dressed in black and violet, of dignified mien,
who was preparing to get into a hired carriage, and told the
coachman to stop at Vincennes. He had before him a large
hamper filled with bottles, which he had just purchased at
the cabaret with the sign of “L’Image-de-Notre-Dame.”
“Eh, but! that is Vatel! my maitre d’hotel!” said Fouquet to
Gourville.
“Yes, monseigneur,” replied the latter.