“Greatly,” replied the minister; “ask Gourville to tell you what it is.”  Pelisson, on turning round, found La Fontaine treading upon his heels.  He was obliged to listen to a Latin verse, which the poet had composed upon Vatel.  La Fontaine had, for an hour, been scanning this verse in all corners, seeking some one to pour it out upon advantageously.  He thought he had caught Pelisson, but the latter escaped him; he turned towards Sorel, who had, himself, just composed a quatrain in honor of the supper, and the Amphytrion.  La Fontaine in vain endeavored to gain attention to his verses; Sorel wanted to obtain a hearing for his quatrain.  He was obliged to retreat before M. le Comte de Charost, whose arm Fouquet had just taken.  L’Abbe Fouquet perceived that the poet, absent-minded, as usual, was about to follow the two talkers; and he interposed.  La Fontaine seized upon him, and recited his verses.  The abbe, who was quite innocent of Latin, nodded his head, in cadence, at every roll which La Fontaine impressed upon his body, according to the undulations of the dactyls and spondees.  While this was going on, behind the confiture-basins, Fouquet related the event of the day to his son-in-law, M. de Charost.  “We will send the idle and useless to look at the fireworks,” said Pelisson to Gourville, “whilst we converse here.”

“So be it,” said Gourville, addressing four words to Vatel.  The latter then led towards the gardens the major part of the beaux, the ladies and the chatterers, whilst the men walked in the gallery, lighted by three hundred wax-lights, in the sight of all; the admirers of fireworks all ran away towards the garden.  Gourville approached Fouquet, and said:  “Monsieur, we are here.”

“All?” said Fouquet.

“Yes, — count.”  The superintendent counted; there were eight persons.  Pelisson and Gourville walked arm in arm, as if conversing upon vague and frivolous subjects.  Sorel and two officers imitated them, and in an opposite direction.  The Abbe Fouquet walked alone.  Fouquet, with M. de Charost, walked as if entirely absorbed in the conversation of his son-in-law.  “Messieurs,” said he, “let no one of you raise his head as he walks, or appear to pay attention to me; continue walking, we are alone, listen to me.”

A perfect silence ensued, disturbed only by the distant cries of the joyous guests, from the groves whence they beheld the fireworks.  It was a whimsical spectacle this, of these men walking in groups, as if each one was occupied about something, whilst lending attention really only to one amongst them, who, himself, seemed to be speaking only to his companion.  “Messieurs,” said Fouquet, “you have, without doubt, remarked the absence of two of my friends this evening, who were with us on Wednesday.  For God’s sake, abbe, do not stop, — it is not necessary to enable you to listen; walk on, carrying your head in a natural way, and as you have excellent sight, place yourself at the window, and if any one returns towards the gallery, give us notice by coughing.”