"But," said the king, "that will make two millions five hundred thousand livres."
"Sire, the five hundred thousand livres over will serve as pocket money for his royal highness. You understand, Monsieur Colbert, this evening before eight o'clock."
And with these words, bowing respectfully to the king, the superintendent made his exit backwards, without honoring with a single look the envious man, whose head he had just half shaved.
Colbert tore his ruffles to pieces in his rage, and bit his lips till they bled.
Fouquet had not passed the door of the cabinet, when an usher pushing by him, exclaimed: "A courier from Bretagne for his majesty."
"M. d'Herblay was right," murmured Fouquet, pulling out his watch; "an hour and fifty-five minutes. It was quite true."
Footnotes: [Footnote 1: The correct name of the city is Brighthelmstone. The mistake is Dumas's.] [Footnote 2: In the five-volume edition, Volume 1 ends here.]