“Pardon me, sire, but in the first place, I have something to add.”
“Say—what?”
“An evident, palpable, material proof of treason.”
“And what is that?”
“I have just learnt that M. Fouquet is fortifying Belle-Isle.”
“Ah, indeed!”
“Yes, sire.”
“Are you sure?”
“Perfectly. Do you know, sire, what soldiers there are in Belle-Isle?”
“No, ma foi! Do you?”