can do nothing against M. Fouquet?"

"Absolutely nothing,--at least at present, sire."

"You are a sterile counselor, M. Colbert."

"Oh, no, sire; for I will not confine myself to pointing out the peril
to your majesty."

"Come, then, where shall we begin to undermine this Colossus; let us
see;" and his majesty began to laugh bitterly.

"He has grown great by money; kill him by money, sire."

"If I were to deprive him of his charge?"

"A bad means, sire."

"The good--the good, then?"

"Ruin him, sire, that is the way.

"But how?"

"Occasions will not be wanting, take advantage of all occasions."

"Point them out to me."

"Here is one at once. His royal highness Monsieur is about to be
married; his nuptials must be magnificent. That is a good occasion for
your majesty to demand a million of M. Fouquet. M. Fouquet, who
pays twenty thousand livres down when he need not pay more than five
thousand, will easily find that million when your majesty demands it."

"That is all very well; I will demand it," said Louis.

"If your majesty will sign the ordonnance I will have the money got
together myself." And Colbert pushed a paper before the king, and
presented a pen to him.

At that moment the usher opened the door and announced monsieur le
surintendant. Louis turned pale. Colbert let the pen fall, and drew
back from the king, over whom he extended his black wings like an evil
spirit. The superintendent made his entrance like a man of the court,
to whom a single glance was sufficient to make him appreciate the
situation. That situation was not very encouraging for Fouquet, whatever
might be his consciousness of strength. The small black eye of Colbert,
dilated by envy, and the limpid eye of Louis XIV., inflamed by anger,
signalled some pressing danger. Courtiers are, with regard to court
rumors, like old soldiers, who distinguish through the blasts of wind
and bluster of leaves the sound of the distant steps of an armed troop.
They can, after having listened, tell pretty nearly how many men are
marching, how many arms resound, how many cannons roll. Fouquet had then
only to interrogate the silence which his arrival had produced; he found
it big with menacing revelations. The king allowed him time enough to
advance as far as the middle of the chamber. His adolescent modesty
commanded this forbearance of the moment. Fouquet boldly seized the
opportunity.

"Sire," said he, "I was impatient to see your majesty