“I shall dine here,” said Loret. “M. de Gourville has promised me some craw-fish.”
“He has promised me some whitings. Find a rhyme for that, La Fontaine.”
Aramis went out laughing, as only he could laugh, and Moliere followed him. They were at the bottom of the stairs, when La Fontaine opened the door, and shouted out:
“He has promised us some whitings, In return for these our writings.”
The shouts of laughter reached the ears of Fouquet at the moment Aramis opened the door of the study. As to Moliere, he had undertaken to order the horses, while Aramis went to exchange a parting word with the superintendent. “Oh, how they are laughing there!” said Fouquet, with a sigh.
“Do you not laugh, monseigneur?”
“I laugh no longer now, M. d’Herblay. The fete is approaching; money is departing.”
“Have I not told you that was my business?”
“Yes, you promised me millions.”
“You shall have them the day after the king’s entree into Vaux.”