"My cash-box more than anything else," said Fouquet coldly.
"The fact is, I wish to give a fête at Fontainebleau, to keep open house for fifteen days, and I shall require — " and he stopped, glancing at Colbert. Fouquet waited without showing discomposure; and the king resumed, answering Colbert's cruel smile, "Four millions of francs."
"Four millions," repeated Fouquet, bowing profoundly. And his nails, buried in his bosom, were thrust into his flesh, the tranquil expression of his face remaining unaltered. "When will they be required, sire?"
"Take your time — I mean — no, no; as soon as possible."
"A certain time will be necessary, sire."
"Time!" exclaimed Colbert triumphantly.
"The time, monsieur," said the surintendant, with the haughtiest disdain, "simply to count the money; a million only can be drawn and weighed in a day."
"Four days, then," said Colbert.
"My clerks," replied Fouquet, addressing himself to the king, "will perform wonders for his majesty's service, and the sum shall be ready in three days."
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 which covered 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 of a man-of-war, commanded during a storm by a passionate captain. The carriage, therefore, did not simply roll along, but flew. Fouquet had hardly had 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 from a roast leg of mutton, two pheasants, and a perfect heap of crawfish; he then directed his body to be anointed with perfumed oils, in the manner of the wrestlers of old; and when the anointment was completed he was wrapped in flannels and placed in a warm
