“Because he would allow you a pension out of the king’s privy purse, as soon as he becomes surintendant,” said Aramis, preparing to leave as soon as he had dealt this last blow.
“Where are you going?” returned Fouquet, with a gloomy look.
“To my own apartment, in order to change my costume, monseigneur.”
“Whereabouts are you lodging, D’Herblay?”
“In the blue room on the second story.”
“The room immediately over the king’s room?”
“Precisely.”
“You will be subject to very great restraint there. What an idea to condemn yourself to a room where you cannot stir or move about!”
“During the night, monseigneur, I sleep or read in my bed.”
“And your servants?”