en 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