voice, some sorrow in her countenance. The face of Anne of
Austria appeared a little changed, but that was from
sufferings of quite a personal character. Perhaps the
alteration was caused by the cancer which had begun to
consume her breast. “Yes, madame,” said the king; “yes, M.
de Mazarin is very ill.”
“And it would be a great loss to the kingdom if God were to
summon his eminence away. Is not that your opinion as well
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as mine, my son?” said the queen.
“Yes, madame; yes, certainly, it would be a great loss for
the kingdom,” said Louis, coloring; “but the peril does not
seem to me to be so great; besides, the cardinal is still
young.” The king had scarcely ceased speaking when an usher
lifted the tapestry, and stood with a paper in his hand,
waiting for the king to speak to him.
“What have you there?” asked the king.
“A message from M. de Mazarin,” replied the usher.
“Give it to me,” said the king; and he took the paper. But
at the moment he was about to open it, there was a great
noise in the gallery, the ante-chamber, and the court.
“Ah, ah,” said Louis XIV., who doubtless knew the meaning of
that triple noise. “How could I say there was but one king
in France! I was mistaken, there are two.”
As he spoke or thought thus, the door opened, and the
superintendent of the finances, Fouquet, appeared before his
nominal master. It was he who made the noise in the
ante-chamber, it was his horses that made the noise in the
courtyard. In addition to all this, a loud murmur was heard
along his passage, which did not die away till some time
after he had passed. It was this murmur which Louis XIV.
regretted so deeply not hearing as he passed, and dying away
behind him.
“He is not precisely a king, as you fancy,” said Anne of
Austria to her son; “he is only a man who is much too rich
— that is all.”
Whilst saying these words, a bitter feeling gave to these
words of the queen a most hateful expression; whereas the
brow of the king, calm and self-possessed, on the contrary,
was without the slightest wrinkle. He nodded, therefore,
familiarly to Fouquet, whilst he continued to unfold the
paper given to him by the usher. Fouquet perceived this
movement, and with a politeness at once easy and respectful,
advanced towards the queen, so as not to disturb the king.
Louis had opened the paper, and yet he did not read it. He
listened to Fouquet paying the most charming compliments to
the queen upon her hand and arm. Anne of Austria’s frown
relaxed a little, she even almost smiled. Fouquet perceived
that the king, instead of reading, was looking at him; he
turned half round, therefore, and while continuing his
conversation with the queen, faced the king.
“You know, Monsieur Fouquet,” said Louis, “how ill M.
Mazarin is?”
“Yes, sire, I know that,” said Fouquet; “in fact, he is very
ill. I was at my country-house of Vaux when the news reached
me; and the affair seemed so pressing that I left at once.”
“You left Vaux this evening, monsieur?”
“An hour and a half ago, yes, your majesty,” said Fouquet,
consulting a watch, richly ornamented with diamonds.
“An hour and a half!” said the king, still able to restrain
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Dumas, Alexandre – Ten Years Later
his anger, but not to conceal his astonishment.
“I understand you, sire. Your majesty doubts my word, and
you have reason to do so, but I have really come in that
time, though it is wonderful! I received from England three
pairs of very fast horses, as I had been assured. They were
placed at distances of four leagues apart, and I tried them
this evening. They really brought me from Vaux to the Louvre
in an hour and a half, so your majesty sees I have not been
cheated.” The queen-mother smiled with something like secret
envy. But Fouquet caught her thought. “Thus, madame,” he
promptly said, “such horses are made for kings, not for
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