“Write!” said the young king, with evident repugnance. “Well!” replied Anne of Austria, “it seems to me, my son, that a man who has just made such a present has a good right to expect to be thanked for it with some degree of promptitude.” Then turning towards Fouquet: “Is not that likewise your opinion, monsieur?” “That the present is worth the trouble? Yes madame,” said Fouquet, with a lofty air that did not escape the king. “Accept, then, and thank him,” insisted Anne of Austria. “What says M. Fouquet?” asked Louis XIV. “Does your majesty wish to know my opinion?” “Yes.” “Thank him, sire——” “Ah!” said the queen. “But do not accept,” continued Fouquet. “And why not?” asked the queen. “You have yourself said why, madame,” replied Fouquet; “because kings cannot and ought not to receive presents from their subjects.” The king remained silent between these two contrary opinions. “But forty millions!” said Anne of Austria, in the same tone as that in which, at a later period, poor Marie Antoinette replied, “You will tell me as much!” “I know,” said Fouquet, laughing, “forty millions makes a good round sum,—such a sum as could almost tempt a royal conscience.” “But monsieur,” said Anne of Austria, “instead of persuading the king not to receive this present, recall to his majesty’s mind, you, whose duty it is, that these forty millions are a fortune to him.” “It is precisely, madame, because these forty millions would be a fortune that I will say to the king, ‘Sire, if it be not decent for a king to accept from a subject six horses, worth twenty thousand livres, it would be disgraceful for him to owe a fortune to another subject, more or less scrupulous in the choice of the materials which contributed to the building up of that fortune.’” “It ill becomes you, monsieur, to give your king a lesson,” said Anne of Austria; “better procure for him forty millions to replace those you make him lose.” “The king shall have them whenever he wishes,” said the superintendent of finances, bowing. “Yes, by oppressing the people,” said the queen. “And were they not oppressed, madame,” replied Fouquet, “when they were made to sweat the forty millions given by this deed? Furthermore, his majesty has asked my opinion, I have given it; if his majesty ask my concurrence, it will be the same.” “Nonsense! accept, my son, accept,” said Anne of Austria. “You are above reports and interpretations.” “Refuse, sire,” said Fouquet. “As long as a king lives, he has no other measure but his conscience,—no other judge than his own desires; but when dead, he has posterity, which applauds or accuses.” “Thank you, mother,” replied Louis, bowing respectfully to the queen. “Thank you, Monsieur Fouquet,” said he, dismissing the superintendent civilly. “Do you accept?” asked Anne of Austria, once more. “I shall consider of it,” replied he, looking at Fouquet. CHAPTER 48. Agony