said Aramis, hastily; "this is the one. The other
is too precious a document for you to part with."

"No, no!" replied Fouquet; "I will sign under M. Colbert's own
handwriting even; and I write, 'The handwriting is approved of.'" He
then signed, and said, "Here it is, Monsieur Vanel." And the latter
seized the paper, laid down his money, and was about to make his escape.

"One moment," said Aramis. "Are you quite sure the exact amount is
there? It ought to be counted over, Monsieur Vanel! particularly since
M. Colbert makes presents of money to ladies, I see. Ah, that worthy M.
Colbert is not so generous as M. Fouquet." And Aramis, spelling every
word, every letter of the order to pay, distilled his wrath and his
contempt, drop by drop, upon the miserable wretch, who had to submit to
this torture for a quarter of an hour; he was then dismissed, not in
words, but by a gesture, as one dismisses or discharges a beggar or a
menial.

As soon as Vanel had gone, the minister and the prelate, their eyes
fixed on each other, remained silent for a few moments.

"Well," said Aramis, the first to break the silence; "to what can that
man be compared, who, at the very moment he is on the point of entering
into a conflict with an enemy armed from head to foot, thirsting for his
life, presents himself for the contest quite defenseless, throws down
his arms, and smiles and kisses his hands to his adversary in the most
gracious manner? Good faith, M. Fouquet, is a weapon which scoundrels
very frequently make use of against men of honor, and it answers their
purpose. Men of honor ought in their turn, also, to make use of
dishonest means against such scoundrels. You would soon see how strong
they would become, without ceasing to be men of honor."

"What they did would be termed the acts of a scoundrel," replied
Fouquet.

"Far from that; it would be merely coquetting or playing with the truth.
At all events, since you have finished with this Vanel; since you have
deprived yourself of the happiness of confounding him by repudiating
your word; and since you have given up, for the purpose of being used
against yourself, the only weapon which can ruin you--"

"My dear friend," said Fouquet, mournfully, "you are like the teacher of
philosophy whom La Fontaine was telling us about the other day: he saw a
child drowning, and began to read him a lecture divided into three
heads."

Aramis smiled as he said, "Philosophy--yes; teacher--yes; a