“Sixteen hundred thousand livres.”
“Sixteen hundred thousand livres! you are enormously rich, monsieur.”
“It is your majesty who is rich, since Belle-Isle is yours.”
“Yes, thank you; but however rich I may be, M. Fouquet——” The king stopped.
“Well, sire?” asked the superintendent.
“I foresee the moment when I shall want money.”
“You, sire? And at what moment, then?”
“To-morrow, for example.”
“Will your majesty do me the honor to explain yourself?”
“My brother is going to marry the English Princess.”