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List Of Contents | Contents of Ten Years Later, by Alexandre Dumas, Pere
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name, since you do not tell it."

"My dear marquise, when I saw you blush, I did not think you would have
to spend much time in conjectures."

"It was the word Danae which you used that surprised me.  Danae means a
shower of gold, does it not?"

"That is to say that the Jupiter of Danae changed himself into a shower
of gold for her."

"My lover, then, he whom you assign me - "

"I beg your pardon; I am your friend, and assign you no one."

"That may be; but those who are ill disposed towards me."

"Do you wish to hear the name?"

"I have been waiting this half hour for it."

"Well, then, you shall hear it.  Do not be shocked; he is a man high in
power."

"Good," said the marquise, as she clenched her hands like a patient at
the approach of the knife.

"He is a very wealthy man," continued Marguerite; "the wealthiest, it may
be.  In a word, it is - "

The marquise closed her eyes for a moment.

"It is the Duke of Buckingham," said Marguerite, bursting into laughter.
This perfidy had been calculated with extreme ability; the name that was
pronounced, instead of the name which the marquise awaited, had precisely
the same effect upon her as the badly sharpened axes, that had hacked,
without destroying, Messieurs de Chalais and de Thou upon the scaffold.
She recovered herself, however, and said, "I was perfectly right in
saying you were a witty woman, for you are making the time pass away most
agreeably.  This joke is a most amusing one, for I have never seen the
Duke of Buckingham."

"Never?" said Marguerite, restraining her laughter.

"I have never even left my own house since the duke has been at Paris."

"Oh!" resumed Madame Vanel, stretching out her foot towards a paper which
was lying on the carpet near the window; "it is not necessary for people
to see each other, since they can write."  The marquise trembled, for
this paper was the envelope of the letter she was reading as her friend
had entered, and was sealed with the superintendent's arms.  As she
leaned back on the sofa on which she was sitting, Madame de Belliere
covered the paper with the thick folds of her large silk dress, and so
concealed it.

"Come, Marguerite, tell me, is it to tell me all these foolish reports
that you have come to see me so early in the day?"

"No; I came to see you, in the first place, and to remind you of those
habits of our earlier days, so delightful to remember, when we used to
wander about together at Vincennes, and, sitting beneath an oak, or in
some sylvan shade, used to talk of those we loved, and who loved us."

"Do you propose that we should go out together now?"

"My carriage is here, and I have three hours at my disposal."

"I am not dressed yet, Marguerite; but if you wish that we should talk
together, we can, without going to the woods of Vincennes, find in my own
garden here, beautiful trees, shady groves, a green sward covered with
daisies and violets, the perfume of which can be perceived from where we
are sitting."

"I regret your refusal, my dear marquise, for I wanted to pour out my
whole heart into yours."

"I repeat again, Marguerite, my heart is yours just as much in this room,
or beneath the lime-trees in the garden here, as it would be under the
oaks in the woods yonder."

"It is not the same thing for me.  In approaching Vincennes, marquise, my
ardent aspirations approach nearer to that object towards which they have
for some days past been directed."  The marquise suddenly raised her
head.  "Are you surprised, then, that I am still thinking of Saint-Mande?"

"Of Saint-Mande?" exclaimed Madame de Belliere; and the looks of both
women met each other like two resistless swords.

"You, so proud!" said the marquise, disdainfully.

"I, so proud!" replied Madame Vanel.  "Such is my nature.  I do not
forgive neglect - I cannot endure infidelity.  When I leave any one who
weeps at my abandonment, I feel induced still to love him; but when
others forsake me and laugh at their infidelity, I love distractedly."

Madame de Belliere could not restrain an involuntary movement.

"She is jealous," said Marguerite to herself.

"Then," continued the marquise, "you are quite enamored of the Duke of
Buckingham - I mean of M. Fouquet?"  Elise felt the allusion, and her
blood seemed to congeal in her heart.  "And you wished to go to
Vincennes, - to Saint-Mande, even?"

"I hardly know what I wished: you would have advised me perhaps."

"In what respect?"

"You have often done so."

"Most certainly I should not have done so in the present instance, for I
do not forgive as you do.  I am less loving, perhaps; when my heart has
been once wounded, it remains so always."

"But M. Fouquet has not wounded you," said Marguerite Vanel, with the
most perfect simplicity.

"You perfectly understand what I mean.  M. Fouquet has not wounded me; I
do not know of either obligation or injury received at his hands, but you
have reason to complain of him.  You are my friend, and I am afraid I
should not advise you as you would like."

"Ah! you are prejudging the case."

"The sighs you spoke of just now are more than indications."

"You overwhelm me," said the young woman suddenly, as if collecting her
whole strength, like a wrestler preparing for a last struggle; "you take
only my evil dispositions and my weaknesses into calculation, and do not
speak of my pure and generous feelings.  If, at this moment, I feel
instinctively attracted towards the superintendent, if I even make an
advance to him, which, I confess, is very probable, my motive for it is,
that M. Fouquet's fate deeply affects me, and because he is, in my
opinion, one of the most unfortunate men living."

"Ah!" said the marquise, placing her hand upon her heart, "something new,
then, has occurred?"

"Do you not know it?"

"I am utterly ignorant of everything about him," said Madame de Belliere,
with the poignant anguish that suspends thought and speech, and even life
itself.

"In the first place, then, the king's favor is entirely withdrawn from M.
Fouquet, and conferred on M. Colbert."

"So it is stated."

"It is very clear, since the discovery of the plot of Belle-Isle."

"I was told that the discovery of the fortifications there had turned out
to M. Fouquet's honor."

Marguerite began to laugh in so cruel a manner that Madame de Belliere
could at that moment have delightedly plunged a dagger in her bosom.
"Dearest," continued Marguerite, "there is no longer any question of M.
Fouquet's honor; his safety is concerned.  Before three days are passed
the ruin of the superintendent will be complete."

"Stay," said the marquise, in her turn smiling, "that is going a little
fast."

"I said three days, because I wish to deceive myself with a hope; but
probably the catastrophe will be complete within twenty-four hours."

"Why so?"

"For the simplest of all reasons, - that M. Fouquet has no more money."

"In matters of finance, my dear Marguerite, some are without money to-
day, who to-morrow can procure millions."

"That might be M. Fouquet's case when he had two wealthy and clever
friends who amassed money for him, and wrung it from every possible or
impossible source; but those friends are dead."

"Money does not die, Marguerite; it may be concealed, but it can be
looked for, bought and found."

"You see things on the bright side, and so much the better for your.  It
is really very unfortunate that you are not the Egeria of M. Fouquet; you
might now show him the source whence he could obtain the millions which
the king asked him for yesterday."

"Millions!" said the marquise, in terror.

"Four - an even number."

"Infamous!" murmured Madame de Belliere, tortured by her friend's
merciless delight.

"M. Fouquet, I should think, must certainly have four millions," she
replied, courageously.

"If he has those which the king requires to-day," said Marguerite, "he
will not, perhaps, possess those which the king will demand in a month or
so."

"The king will exact money from him again, then?"

"No doubt; and that is my reason for saying that the ruin of poor M.
Fouquet is inevitable.  Pride will induce him to furnish the money, and
when he has no more, he will fall."

"It is true," said the marquise, trembling; "the plan is a bold one; but
tell me, does M. Colbert hate M. Fouquet so very much?"

"I think he does not like him.  M. Colbert is powerful; he improves on
close acquaintance; he has gigantic ideas, a strong will, and discretion;
he will rise."

"He will be superintendent?"

"It is probable.  Such is the reason, my dear marquise, why I felt myself
impressed in favor of that poor man, who once loved, and even adored me;
and why, when I see him so unfortunate, I forgive his infidelity, which I
have reason to believe he also regrets; and why, moreover, I should not
have been disinclined to afford him some consolation, or some good
advice; he would have understood the step I had taken, and would have
thought kindly of me for it.  It is gratifying to be loved, you know.
Men value love more highly when they are no longer blinded by its
influence."

The marquise, bewildered and overcome by these cruel attacks, which had
been calculated with the greatest nicety and precision, hardly knew what
to answer in return; she even seemed to have lost all power of thought.
Her perfidious friend's voice had assumed the most affectionate tone; she
spoke as a woman, but concealed the instincts of a wolf.

"Well," said Madame de Belliere, who had a vague hope that Marguerite
would cease to overwhelm a vanquished enemy, "why do you not go and see
M. Fouquet?"

"Decidedly, marquise, you have made me reflect.  No, it would be
unbecoming for me to make the first advance.  M. Fouquet no doubt loves
me, but he is too proud.  I cannot expose myself to an affront....
besides, I have my husband to consider.  You tell me nothing?  Very well,
I shall consult M. Colbert on the subject."  Marguerite rose smilingly,
as though to take leave, but the marquise had not the strength to imitate
her.  Marguerite advanced a few paces, in order that she might continue

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