Chapter 56

Chapter LVI:
Rivals in Politics.

On his return from the promenade, which had been so prolific in poetical
effusions, and in which every one had paid his or her tribute to the
Muses, as the poets of the period used to say, the king found M. Fouquet
waiting for an audience. M. Colbert had lain in wait for his majesty in
the corridor, and followed him like a jealous and watchful shadow; M.
Colbert, with his square head, his vulgar and untidy, though rich
costume, somewhat resembled a Flemish gentleman after he had been over-
indulging in his national drink - beer. Fouquet, at sight of his enemy,
remained perfectly unmoved, and during the whole of the scene which
followed scrupulously resolved to observe a line of conduct particularly
difficult to the man of superior mind, who does not even wish to show his
contempt, for fear of doing his adversary too much honor. Colbert made
no attempt to conceal his insolent expression of the vulgar joy he felt.
In his opinion, M. Fouquet's was a game very badly played and hopelessly
lost, although not yet finished. Colbert belonged to that school of
politicians who think cleverness alone worthy of their admiration, and
success the only thing worth caring for. Colbert, moreover, who was not
simply an envious and jealous man, but who had the king's interest really
at heart, because he was thoroughly imbued with the highest sense of
probity in all matters of figures and accounts, could well afford to
assign as a pretext for his conduct, that in hating and doing his utmost
to ruin M. Fouquet, he had nothing in view but the welfare of the state
and the dignity of the crown. None of these details escaped Fouquet's
observation; through his enemy's thick, bushy brows, and despite the
restless movement of his eyelids, he could, by merely looking at his
eyes, penetrate to the very bottom of Colbert's heart, and he read to
what an unbounded extent hate towards himself and triumph at his
approaching fall existed there. But as, in observing everything, he
wished to remain himself impenetrable, he composed his features, smiled
with the charmingly sympathetic smile that was peculiarly his own, and
saluted the king with the most dignified and graceful ease and elasticity
of manner. "Sire," he said, "I perceive by your majesty's joyous air
that you have been gratified with the promenade."

"Most gratified, indeed, monsieur le surintendant, most gratified. You
were very wrong not to come with us, as I invited you to do."

"I was working, sire," replied the superintendent, who did not even seem
to take the trouble to turn aside his head in merest respect of Colbert's
presence.

"Ah! M. Fouquet," cried the king, "there is nothing like the country. I
should be delighted to