Chapter 35

Chapter XXXV
The Last Supper
The superintendent had no doubt received notice of the approaching departure, for he was giving a farewell dinner to his friends. From the bottom to the top of the house, the hurry of the servants bearing dishes, and the diligence of the registres, denoted an approaching change in both offices and kitchen. D’Artagnan, with his order in his hand, presented himself at the offices, when he was told it was too late to pay cash,- the chest was closed. He only replied, “On the King’s service.”

The clerk, a little put out by the serious air of the captain, replied that that was a very respectable reason, but that the customs of the house were respectable likewise; and that in consequence he begged the bearer to call again next day. D’Artagnan asked if he could not see M. Fouquet. The clerk replied that Monsieur the Superintendent did not interfere with such details, and rudely closed the door in d’Artagnan’s face. But the latter had foreseen this stroke, and placed his boot between the door and the door case, so that the lock did not catch, and the clerk was still face to face with his interlocutor. This made him change his tone, and say with terrified politeness, “If Monsieur wishes to speak to Monsieur the Superintendent, he must go to the antechambers; these are the offices where Monseigneur never comes.”

“Oh, very well! Where are they?” replied the captain.

“On the other side of the court,” said the clerk, delighted at being free.

D’Artagnan crossed the court, and fell in with a crowd of servants.

“Monseigneur sees nobody at this hour,” he was answered by a fellow carrying a vermeil dish, in which were three pheasants and twelve quails.

“Tell him,” said the captain, stopping the servant by laying hold of his dish, “that I am M. d’Artagnan, captain of his Majesty’s Musketeers.”

The fellow uttered a cry of surprise and disappeared, d’Artagnan following him slowly. He arrived just in time to meet M. Pélisson in the antechamber; the latter, a little pale, came hastily out of the dining-room to learn what was the matter. D’Artagnan smiled.

“There is nothing unpleasant, M. Pélisson; only a little order to receive some money.”

“Ah!” said Fouquet’s friend, breathing more freely; and he took the captain by the hand, and dragging him behind him, led him into the dining-room, where a number of friends surrounded the superintendent, placed in the centre, and buried in the cushions of an arm-chair. There were assembled all the Epicureans who so lately at Vaux did honor to the house, the intelligence, and the wealth of M. Fouquet. joyous friends, for the most part faithful, they had not fled from their protector