A Quarter of an Hour's Delay.
Fouquet, on leaving his house for the second time that day, felt himself less heavy and less disturbed than might have been expected.He turned towards Pellisson, who was meditating in the corner of the carriage some good arguments against the violent proceedings of Colbert.
"My dear Pellisson," said Fouquet, "it is a great pity you are not a woman.""I think, on the contrary, it is very fortunate," replied Pellisson, "for, monseigneur, I am excessively ugly.""Pellisson! Pellisson!" said the superintendent, laughing:
"you repeat too often you are `ugly,' not to leave people to believe that it gives you much pain.""In fact it does, monseigneur, much pain; there is no man more unfortunate than I: I was handsome, the smallpox rendered me hideous; I am deprived of a great means of attraction; now, I am your principal clerk or something of that sort; I take great interest in your affairs, and if, at this moment, I were a pretty woman, I could render you an important service.""What?"
"I would go and find the concierge of the Palais.I would seduce him, for he is a gallant man, extravagantly partial to women; then I would get away our two prisoners.""I hope to be able to do so myself, although I am not a pretty woman," replied Fouquet.
"Granted, monseigneur; but you are compromising yourself very much.""Oh!" cried Fouquet, suddenly, with one of those secret transports which the generous blood of youth, or the remembrance of some sweet emotion, infuses into the heart.
"Oh! I know a woman who will enact the personage we stand in need of, with the lieutenant-governor of the conciergerie.""And, on my part, I know fifty, monseigneur; fifty trumpets, which will inform the universe of your generosity, of your devotion to your friends, and, consequently, will ruin you sooner or later in ruining themselves.""I do not speak of such women, Pellisson, I speak of a noble and beautiful creature who joins to the intelligence and wit of her *** the valor and coolness of ours; I speak of a woman, handsome enough to make the walls of a prison bow down to salute her, discreet enough to let no one suspect by whom she has been sent.""A treasure!" said Pellisson, "you would make a famous present to monsieur the governor of the conciergerie! Peste!
monseigneur, he might have his head cut off; but he would, before dying, have had such happiness as no man had enjoyed before him.""And I add," said Fouquet, "that the concierge of the Palais would not have his head cut off, for he would receive of me my horses to effect his escape, and five hundred thousand livres wherewith to live comfortably in England: I add, that this lady, my friend, would give him nothing but the horses and the money.Let us go and seek her, Pellisson."The superintendent reached forth his hand towards the gold and silken cord placed in the interior of his carriage, but Pellisson stopped him."Monseigneur," said he, "you are going to lose as much time in seeking this lady as Columbus took to discover the new world.Now, we have but two hours in which we can possibly succeed; the concierge once gone to bed, how shall we get at him without ****** a disturbance?
When daylight dawns, how can we conceal our proceedings? Go, go yourself, monseigneur, and do not seek either woman or angel to-night.""But, my dear Pellisson, here we are before her door.""What! before the angel's door?"
"Why, yes!"
"This is the hotel of Madame de Belliere!""Hush!"
"Ah! Good Lord!" exclaimed Pellisson.
"What have you to say against her?"
"Nothing, alas! and it is that which causes my despair.
Nothing, absolutely nothing.Why can I not, on the contrary, say ill enough of her to prevent your going to her?"But Fouquet had already given orders to stop, and the carriage was motionless."Prevent me!" cried Fouquet; "why, no power on earth should prevent my going to pay my compliments to Madame de Plessis-Belliere, besides, who knows that we shall not stand in need of her!""No, monseigneur no!"
"But I do not wish you to wait for me, Pellisson," replied Fouquet, sincerely courteous.
"The more reason I should, monseigneur; knowing that you are keeping me waiting, you will, perhaps, stay a shorter time.
Take care! You see there is a carriage in the courtyard: she has some one with her." Fouquet leant towards the steps of the carriage."One word more," cried Pellisson; "do not go to this lady till you have been to the concierge, for Heaven's sake!""Eh! five minutes, Pellisson," replied Fouquet, alighting at the steps of the hotel, leaving Pellisson in the carriage, in a very ill-humor.Fouquet ran upstairs, told his name to the footman, which excited an eagerness and a respect that showed the habit the mistress of the house had of honoring that name in her family."Monsieur le surintendant," cried the marquise, advancing, very pale, to meet him; "what an honor! what an unexpected pleasure!" said she.Then, in a low voice, "Take care!" added the marquise, "Marguerite Vanel is here!""Madame," replied Fouquet, rather agitated, "I came on business.One single word, and quickly, if you please!" And he entered the salon.Madame Vanel had risen, paler, more livid, than Envy herself.Fouquet in vain addressed her, with the most agreeable, most pacific salutation; she only replied by a terrible glance darted at the marquise and Fouquet.This keen glance of a jealous woman is a stiletto which pierces every cuirass; Marguerite Vanel plunged it straight into the hearts of the two confidants.She made a courtesy to her friend, a more profound one to Fouquet, and took leave, under pretense of having a number of visits to make, without the marquise trying to prevent her, or Fouquet, a prey to anxiety, thinking further about her.She was scarcely out of the room, and Fouquet left alone with the marquise, before he threw himself on his knees, without saying a word."I expected you," said the marquise, with a tender sigh.