“The laws are strict, you know.”
“That may be; but a rare article is a dear article, and that is the reason why I have written a small poem, excessively free in its style, very broad, and extremely cynical in its tone.”
“The deuce you have!”
“Yes,” continued the poet, with assumed indifference, “and I have introduced the greatest freedom of language I could possibly employ.”
Peals of laughter again broke forth, while the poet was thus announcing the quality of his wares. “And,” he continued, “I have tried to excel everything that Boccaccio, Aretin, and other masters of their craft have written in the same style.”
“Its fate is clear,” said Pelisson; “it will be suppressed and forbidden.”
“Do you think so?” said La Fontaine, simply. “I assure you I did not do it on my own account so much as M. Fouquet’s.”
This wonderful conclusion again raised the mirth of all present.
“And I have sold the first edition of this little book for eight hundred livres,” exclaimed La Fontaine, rubbing his hands together. “Serious and religions books sell at about half that rate.”
“It would have been better,” said Gourville, “to have written two religious books instead.”