“Oh! no; a snare? What for? The Theatin is an honest man.”
“He believed your eminence to be at death’s door, because your eminence consulted him. Did not I hear him say—‘Distinguish that which the king has given you from that which you have given yourself.’ Recollect, my lord, if he did not say something a little like that to you?—that is quite a theatrical speech.”
“That is possible.”
“In which case, my lord, I should consider you as required by the Theatin to——”
“To make restitution!” cried Mazarin, with great warmth.
“Eh! I do not say no.”
“What, of all! You do not dream of such a thing! You speak just as the confessor did.”
“To make restitution of a part,—that is to say, his majesty’s part; and that, monseigneur, may have its dangers. Your eminence is too skillful a politician not to know that, at this moment, the king does not possess a hundred and fifty thousand livres clear in his coffers.”
“That is not my affair,” said Mazarin, triumphantly; “that belongs to M. le Surintendant Fouquet, whose accounts I gave you to verify some months ago.”
Colbert bit his lips at the name of Fouquet. “His majesty,” said he, between his teeth, “has no money but that which M. Fouquet collects: your money, monseigneur, would afford him a delicious banquet.”