Ten Years Later by Alexandre Dumas (suggested reading TXT) 📗
- Author: Alexandre Dumas
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Chapter LXII. The Shower of Rain.
At this moment, and in the same direction, too, that the king and La Valliere had taken, except that they were in the wood itself instead of following the path, two men were walking together, utterly indifferent to the appearance of the heavens. Their heads were bent down in the manner of people occupied with matters of great moment. They had not observed either De Guiche or Madame, the king or La Valliere. Suddenly something fell through the air like a colossal sheet of flame, followed by a loud but distant rumbling noise.
“Ah!” said one of them, raising his head, “here comes the storm. Let us reach our carriages, my dear D’Herblay.”
Aramis looked inquiringly at the heavens. “There is no occasion to hurry yet,” he said; and then resuming the conversation where it had doubtless been interrupted, he said, “You were observing that the letter we wrote last evening must by this time have reached its destination?”
“I was saying that she certainly has it.”
“Whom did you send it by?”
“By my own servant, as I have already told you.”
“Did he bring back an answer?”
“I have not seen him since; the young girl was probably in attendance on Madame, or was in her own room dressing, and he may have had to wait. Our time for leaving arrived, and we set off, of course; I cannot, therefore, know what is going on yonder.”
“Did you see the king before leaving?”
“Yes.”
“How did he seem?”
“Nothing could have passed off better, or worse; according as he be sincere or hypocritical.”
“And the fete?”
“Will take place in a month.”
“He invited himself, you say?”
“With a pertinacity in which I detected Colbert’s influence. But has not last night removed your illusions?”
“What illusions?”
“With respect to the assistance you may be able to give me under these circumstances.”
“No; I have passed the night writing, and all my orders are given.”
“Do not conceal it from yourself, D’Herblay, but the fete will cost some millions.”
“I will supply six; do you on your side get two or three.”
“You are a wonderful man, my dear D’Herblay.”
Aramis smiled.
“But,” inquired Fouquet, with some remaining uneasiness, “how is it that while you are now squandering millions in this manner, a few days ago you did not pay the fifty thousand francs to Baisemeaux out of your own pocket?”
“Because a few days ago I was as poor as Job.”
“And to-day?”
“To-day I am wealthier than the king himself.”
“Very well,” said Fouquet; “I understand men pretty well; I know you are incapable of forfeiting your word; I do not wish to wrest your secret from you, and so let us talk no more about it.”
At this moment a dull, heavy rumbling was heard, which suddenly developed into a violent clap of thunder.
“Oh, oh!” said Fouquet, “I was quite right in what I said.”
“Come,” said Aramis, “let us rejoin the carriages.”
“We shall not have time,” said Fouquet, “for here comes the rain.”
In fact, as he spoke, and as if the heavens were opened, a shower of large drops of rain was suddenly heard pattering on the leaves about them.
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