“Just now,” repeated the marquise, passing over her eyes a hand that might have been a model for the graceful contours of antiquity; “just now I was prepared to speak, my ideas were clear and bold; now I am quite confused, quite troubled; I fear I bring you bad news.”

“If it is to that bad news I owe your presence, marquise, welcome be even that bad news! or rather, marquise, since you allow that I am not quite indifferent to you, let me hear nothing of the bad news, but speak of yourself.”

“No, no, on the contrary, demand it of me; require me to tell it to you instantly, and not to allow myself to be turned aside by any feeling whatever.  Fouquet, my friend! it is of immense importance.”

“You astonish me, marquise; I will even say you almost frighten me.  You, so serious, so collected; you who know the world we live in so well.  Is it, then, important?”

“Oh! very important.”

“In the first place, how did you come here?”

“You shall know that presently; but first to something of more consequence.”

“Speak, marquise, speak!  I implore you, have pity on my impatience.”

“Do you know that Colbert is made intendant of the finances?”

“Bah!  Colbert, little Colbert.”

“Yes, Colbert, little Colbert.”

“Mazarin’s factotum?”

“The same.”

“Well! what do you see so terrific in that, dear marquise? little Colbert is intendant; that is astonishing I confess, but is not terrible.”

“Do you think the king has given, without pressing motive, such a place to one you call a little cuistre?”

“In the first place, is it positively true that the king has given it to him?”

“It is so said.”

“Ay, but who says so?”

“Everybody.”

“Everybody, that’s nobody; mention some one likely to be well informed who says so.”

“Madame Vanel.”

“Ah! now you begin to frighten me in earnest,” said Fouquet, laughing; “if any one is well informed, or ought to be well informed, it is the person you name.”

“Do not speak ill of poor Marguerite, Monsieur Fouquet, for she still loves you.”

“Bah! indeed?  That is scarcely credible.  I thought little Colbert, as you said just now, had passed over that love, and left the impression upon it of a spot of ink or a stain of grease.”

“Fouquet!  Fouquet!  Is this the way you always treat the poor creatures you desert?”

“Why, you surely are not going to undertake the defense of Madame Vanel?”

“Yes, I will undertake it; for, I repeat, she loves you still, and the proof is she saves you.”

“But your interposition, marquise; that is very cunning on her part.  No angel could be more agreeable to me, or could lead me more certainly to salvation.  But, let me ask you, do you know Marguerite?”

“She was my convent friend.”