“It is natural,” said Colbert with a proud ease, “that you should be ignorant of the usages of state-finance; but, monsieur, when you have a thousand livres to pay, what do you do?”
“I never have a thousand livres to pay,” replied D’Artagnan.
“Once more,” said Colbert, irritated—“once more, if you had any sum to pay, would you not pay what you ought?”
“That only proves one thing,” said D’Artagnan; “and that is, that you have your own particular customs in finance, and M. Fouquet has his own.”
“Mine, monsieur, are the correct ones.”
“I do not say that they are not.”
“And you have accepted what was not due to you.”
D’Artagnan’s eyes flashed. “What is not due to me yet, you meant to say, M. Colbert; for if I have received what was not due to me at all, I should have committed a theft.”
Colbert made no reply to this subtlety. “You then owe fifteen thousand livres to the public chest,” said he, carried away by his jealous ardor.
“Then you must give me credit for them,” replied D’Artagnan, with his imperceptible irony.