La Fontaine understood the moral seriously. "You forget Eschylus," he said to his adversary.
"What do you mean?"
"Eschylus was bald-headed, and a vulture—your vulture, probably—who was a great amateur in tortoises, mistook at a distance his head for a block of stone, and let a tortoise, which was shrunk up in his shell, fall upon it."
"Yes, yes, La Fontaine is right," resumed Fouquet, who had become very thoughtful; "whenever a vulture wishes to devour a tortoise, he well knows how to break his shell; and but too happy is that tortoise which a snake pays a million and a half for his envelope. If any one were to bring me a generous-hearted snake like the one in your fable, Pellisson, I would give him my shell."
"Rara avis in terris!" cried Conrart.
"And like a black swan, is he not!" added La Fontaine; "well, then, the bird in question, black and very rare, is already found."
"Do you mean to say that you have found a purchaser for my post of procureur-general?" exclaimed Fouquet.
"I have, monsieur."
"But the surintendant never said that he wished to sell," resumed Pellisson.
"I beg your pardon," said Conrart, "you yourself spoke about it, even—"