Page:Ten Years Later.djvu/168

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156
TEN YEARS LATER

bed. Aramis, as we have already said, had not retired. Seated at his ease in a velvet dressing-gown, he wrote letter after letter in that fine and hurried handwriting, a page of which contained a quarter of a volume. The door was thrown hurriedly open, and the surintendant appeared, pale, agitated, and anxious. Aramis looked up: "Good evening," said he; and his searching look detected his host's sadness and disordered state of mind. "Was the play as good as his majesty's?" asked Aramis, as a way of beginning the conversation. Fouquet threw himself upon a couch, and then pointed to the door to the servant who had followed him; when the servant had left he said: "Excellent."

Aramis, who had followed every movement with his eyes, noticed that he stretched himself upon the cushions with a sort of feverish impatience. "You have lost as usual?" inquired Aramis, his pen still in his hand.

"Better than usual," replied Fouquet.

"You know how to support losses."

"Sometimes."

"What! Monsieur Fouquet a bad player!"

"There is play and play. Monsieur d'Herblay."

"How much have you lost?" inquired Aramis, with a slight uneasiness.

Fouquet collected himself a moment, and then, without the slightest emotion, said, "The evening has cost me four millions," and a bitter laugh drowned the last vibration of these words.

Aramis, who did not expect such an amount, dropped his pen. "Four millions," he said; "you have lost four millions — impossible!"

"Monsieur Colbert held my cards for me," replied the surintendant, with a similar bitter laugh.

"Ah, now I understand; so, so, a new application for funds?"

"Yes, and from the king's own lips. It is impossible to destroy a man with a more charming smile. What do you think of it?"

"It is clear that your ruin is the object in view."

"That is still your opinion?"

"Still. Besides, there is nothing in it which should astonish you, for we have foreseen it all along."

"Yes; but I did not expect four millions."

"No doubt the amount is serious; but, after all, four millions are not quite the death of a man, especially when the man in question is Monsieur Fouquet."