Colbert had not finished these words when a rougher voice than that of the king interrupted the interesting conversation thus begun between the monarch and his clerk.
“D’Artagnan!” cried the king, with evident joy.
D’Artagnan, pale and in evidently bad humor, cried to the king, as he entered, “Sire, is it your majesty who has given orders to my musketeers?”
“What orders?” said the king.
“About M. Fouquet’s house?”
“None!” replied Louis.
“Ha!” said D’Artagnan, biting his mustache; “I was not mistaken, then; it was monsieur here;” and he pointed to Colbert.
“What orders? Let me know,” said the king.
“Orders to turn the house topsy-turvy, to beat M. Fouquet’s servants, to force the drawers, to give over a peaceful house to pillage! Mordioux! these are savage orders!”
“Monsieur!” said Colbert, turning pale.