hat is sufficient; nevertheless, it
shall be a million, if necessary."

"A million!" cried the abbe; "why, for less than half, I would have half
Paris sacked."

"There must be no disorder," said Pelisson. "The governor being gained,
the two prisoners escape; once clear of the fangs of the law, they will
call together the enemies of Colbert, and prove to the king that his
young justice, like all other monstrosities, is not infallible."

"Go to Paris, then, Pelisson," said Fouquet, "and bring hither the two
victims; to-morrow we shall see."

Gourville gave Pelisson the five hundred thousand livres. "Take care the
wind does not carry you away," said the abbe; "what a responsibility.
_Peste!_ Let me help you a little."

"Silence!" said Fouquet, "somebody is coming. Ah! the fireworks are
producing a magical effect." At this moment a shower of sparks fell
rustling among the branches of the neighboring trees. Pelisson and
Gourville went out together by the door of the gallery; Fouquet
descended to the garden with the five last plotters.

Chapter LVIII. Epicureans.

As Fouquet was giving, or appearing to give, all his attention to
the brilliant illuminations, the languishing music of the violins
and hautboys, the sparkling sheaves of the artificial fires, which,
inflaming the heavens with glowing reflections, marked behind the
trees the dark profile of the donjon of Vincennes; as, we say, the
superintendent was smiling on the ladies and the poets, the _fete_ was
every whit as gay as usual; and Vatel, whose restless, even jealous
look, earnestly consulted the aspect of Fouquet, did not appear
dissatisfied with the welcome given to the ordering of the evening's
entertainment. The fireworks over, the company dispersed about the
gardens and beneath the marble porticoes with the delightful liberty
which reveals in the master of the house so much forgetfulness
of greatness, so much courteous hospitality, so much magnificent
carelessness. The poets wandered about, arm in arm, through the groves;
some reclined upon beds of moss, to the great damage of velvet clothes
and curled heads, into which little dried leaves and blades of grass
insinuated themselves. The ladies, in small numbers, listened to the
songs of the singers and the verses of the poets; others listened to the
prose, spoken with much art, by men who were neither actors nor poets,
but to whom youth and solitude gave an unaccustomed eloquence, which
appeared to