“The service of your majesty cannot prevent M. Fouquet from being surintendant-general.”
“Well?”
“That, in consequence of holding that post, he has for him all the parliament, as he has all the army by his largesses, literature by his favors, and the noblesse by his presents.”
“That is to say, then, that I can do nothing against M. Fouquet?”
“Absolutely nothing,—at least at present, sire.”
“You are a sterile counselor, M. Colbert.”
“Oh, no, sire; for I will not confine myself to pointing out the peril to your majesty.”
“Come, then, where shall we begin to undermine this Colossus; let us see;” and his majesty began to laugh bitterly.
“He has grown great by money; kill him by money, sire.”
“If I were to deprive him of his charge?”