on
introduced the goldsmith into the cabinet, which Fouquet had not yet
left. The surintendant thanked him for having been good enough to regard
as a simple deposit in his hands the valuable property which he had had
every right to sell; and he cast his eyes on the total of the account,
which amounted to thirteen hundred thousand francs. Then, going for a
few moments to his desk, he wrote an order for fourteen hundred thousand
francs, payable at sight, at his treasury, before twelve o'clock the
next day.

"A hundred thousand francs profit!" cried the goldsmith. "Oh,
monseigneur, what generosity!"

"Nay, nay, not so, monsieur," said Fouquet, touching him on the
shoulder; "there are certain kindnesses which can never be repaid. The
profit is about that which you would have made; but the interest of your
money still remains to be arranged." And, saying this, he unfastened
from his sleeve a diamond button, which the goldsmith himself had often
valued at three thousand pistoles. "Take this," he said to the
goldsmith, "in remembrance of me. And farewell; you are an honest man."

"And you, monseigneur," cried the goldsmith, completely overcome, "are
the noblest man that ever lived."

Fouquet let the worthy goldsmith pass out of the room by a secret door,
and then went to receive Madame de Belliere, who was already surrounded
by all the guests. The marquise was always beautiful, but now her
loveliness was more dazzling than ever. "Do you not think, gentlemen,"
said Fouquet, "that madame is more than usually beautiful this evening?
And do you happen to know why?"

"Because madame is really the most beautiful of all women," said some
one present.

"No; but because she is the best. And yet--"

"Yet?" said the marquise, smiling.

"And yet, all the jewels which madame is wearing this evening are
nothing but false stones." At this remark the marquise blushed most
painfully.

"Oh, oh!" exclaimed all the guests, "that can very well be said of one
who has the finest diamonds in Paris."

"Well?" said Fouquet to Pellisson, in a low tone.

"Well, at last I have understood you," returned the latter; "and you
have done excellently well."

"Supper is ready, monseigneur," said Vatel, with majestic air and tone.

The crowd of guests hurried, less slowly than is usually the case with
ministerial entertainments, toward the banqueting room, where a
magnificent spectacle presented itself. Upon the buffets, upon the
side-tables, up