monsieur." Fouquet hung his head. "And I have a
hundred as good as he," continued the abbe.

"Very well," said Fouquet, "give the account to Gourville, and remain
here this evening."

"Shall we have supper?"

"Yes, there will be supper."

"But the chest is closed."

"Gourville will open it for you. Leave us, monsieur l'abbe, leave us."

"Then we are friends?" said the abbe, with a bow.

"Oh, yes, friends. Come, Gourville."

"Are you going out? You will not stay to supper, then?"

"I shall be back in an hour; rest easy, abbe." Then aside to
Gourville,--"Let them put to my English horses," said he, "and direct
the coachman to stop at the Hotel de Ville de Paris."

Chapter LVI. M. de la Fontaine's Wine.

Carriages were already bringing the guests of Fouquet to Saint-Mande;
already the whole house was getting warm with the preparations for
supper, when the superintendent launched his fleet horses upon the roads
to Paris, and going by the quays, in order to meet fewer people on the
way, soon reached the Hotel de Ville. It wanted a quarter to eight.
Fouquet alighted at the corner of the Rue de Long-Pont, and, on
foot, directed his course towards the Place de Greve, accompanied by
Gourville. At the turning of the Place they saw a man dressed in black
and violet, of dignified mien, who was preparing to stop at Vincennes.
He had before him a large hamper filled with bottles, which he had just
purchased at the _cabaret_ with the sign of "L'Image-de-Notre-Dame."

"Eh, but! that is Vatel! my _maitre d'hotel!_" said Fouquet to
Gourville.

"Yes, monseigneur," replied the latter.

"What can he have been doing at the sign of L'Image-de-Notre-Dame?"

"Buying wine, no doubt."

"What! buy wine for me, at a _cabaret?_" said Fouquet. "My cellar, then,
must be in a miserable condition!" and he advanced towards the _maitre
d'hotel_, who was arranging his bottles in the carriage with the most
minute care.

"_Hola!_ Vatel," said he, in the voice of a master.

"Take care, monseigneur!" said Gourville, "you will be recognized."

"Very well! Of what consequence?--Vatel!"

The man dressed in black and violet turned round. He had a good and
mild countenance, without expression--a mathematician minus the pride. A
certain fire sparkled in the eyes of this personage, a rather sly smile
played round his lips; but the observer might soon have remarked that
this fire and this smile applied to nothing, enlightened nothing. Vat