“‘M. Fouquet, I know, has refused seventeen hundred thousand francs.’
“‘My wife,’ replied Vanel, ‘had estimated it at about fourteen hundred thousand.’
“‘Ready money?’ I said.
“‘Yes; she has sold some property of hers in Guienne, and has received the purchase money.’”
“That’s a pretty sum to touch all at once,” said the Abbe Fouquet, who had not hitherto said a word.
“Poor Madame Vanel!” murmured Fouquet.
Pelisson shrugged his shoulders, as he whispered in Fouquet’s ear, “That woman is a perfect fiend.”
“That may be; and it will be delightful to make use of this fiend’s money to repair the injury which an angel has done herself for me.”
Pelisson looked with a surprised air at Fouquet, whose thoughts were from that moment fixed upon a fresh object in view.
“Well!” inquired La Fontaine, “what about my negotiation?”