"Yes, yes," said Fouquet, who began to understand Aramis' meaning.
Vanel remained perfectly silent; he, too, had understood him. Aramis observed his coldness of manner and his silence.
"Very good," he said to himself, "you are waiting, I see, until you know the amount; but do not fear, I shall send you such a flight of crowns that you cannot but capitulate on the spot."
"We must offer M. Vanel a hundred thousand crowns at once," said Fouquet, carried away by his generous feelings.
The sum was a good one. A prince, even, would have been satisfied with such a bonus. A hundred thousand crowns at that period was the dowry of a king's daughter. Vanel, however, did not move.
"He is a perfect rascal!" thought the bishop; "well, we must offer the five hundred thousand francs at once!" and he made a sign to Fouquet accordingly.
"You seem to have spent more than that, dear Monsieur Vanel," said the surintendant. "The price of money is enormous. You must have made a great sacrifice in selling your wife's property. Well, what can I have been thinking of? I ought to have offered to sign you an order for five hundred thousand francs; and even in that case I shall feel that I am greatly indebted to you."
There was not a gleam of delight or desire on Vanel's face, which remained perfectly impassible, not a muscle of it changed in the slightest degree. Aramis cast a look almost of despair at Fouquet, and then, going straight up to Vanel and taking hold of him by the coat in a familiar manner, he said:
"Monsieur Vanel, it is neither the inconvenience nor the displacement of your money, nor the sale of your wife's property even, that you are thinking of at this moment; it is something more important still. I can well understand it; so pay particular attention to what I am going to say."
"Yes, monseigneur," Vanel replied, beginning to tremble in every limb, as the prelate's eyes seemed almost ready to devour him.