“That results from the accounts, certainly, sire.”
“Well, and, consequently—”
“Well, sire, in that case, inasmuch as M. Fouquet has not yet given back the thirteen millions, he must have appropriated them to his own purpose; and with those thirteen millions one could incur four times and a little more as much expense, and make four times as great a display, as your majesty was able to do at Fontainebleau, where we only spent three millions altogether, if you remember.”
For a blunderer, the souvenir he had evoked was a rather skillfully contrived piece of baseness; for by the remembrance of his own fete he, for the first time, perceived its inferiority compared with that of Fouquet. Colbert received back again at Vaux what Fouquet had given him at Fontainebleau, and, as a good financier, returned it with the best possible interest. Having once disposed the king’s mind in this artful way, Colbert had nothing of much importance to detain him. He felt that such was the case, for the king, too, had again sunk into a dull and gloomy state. Colbert awaited the first words from the king’s lips with as much impatience as Philippe and Aramis did from their place of observation.
“Are you aware what is the usual and natural consequence of all this, Monsieur Colbert?” said the king, after a few moments’ reflection.
“No, sire, I do not know.”
“Well, then, the fact of the appropriation of the thirteen millions, if it can be proved—”
“But it is so already.”
“I mean if it were to be declared and certified, M. Colbert.”
“I think it will be to-morrow, if your majesty—”