Fouquet arose, cast a look at one of his glasses, went to the door, pushed back the bolt, and Gourville entered. “Ah! monseigneur! monseigneur!” cried he, “what cruelty!”
“In what?”
“I have been a quarter of an hour imploring you to open the door, and you would not even answer me.”
“Once and for all, you know that I will not be disturbed when I am busy. Now, although I might make you an exception, Gourville, I insist upon my orders being respected by others.”
“Monseigneur, at this moment, orders, doors, bolts, locks, and walls I could have broken, forced and overthrown!”
“Ah! ah! it relates to some great event, then?” asked Fouquet.
“Oh! I assure you it does, monseigneur,” replied Gourville.
“And what is this event?” said Fouquet, a little troubled by the evident agitation of his most intimate confidant.
“There is a secret chamber of justice instituted, monseigneur.”
“I know there is, but do the members meet, Gourville?”