M. Fouquet, the Minister of the Treasury, was rolling in ill-gotten wealth. His palace of Vaux le Vicomte, upon which he had expended fifteen millions of francs, eclipsed in splendor the royal palaces of the Tuileries and Fontainebleau. The king disliked him. He knew he was robbing the treasury, and it was more than his self-love could endure, that a subject should live in state surpassing that of his sovereign. Fouquet most imprudently invited the king and all the court to a fête at the chateau. No step could have been more ill-advised; for the king was little likely to forget, as he looked upon the splendors of Vaux le Vicomte, by which St. Germain and Fontainebleau were utterly eclipsed, that its owner had derived all his wealth from the public coffers; and at a time, too, when he was himself in need of the funds here lavished with such reckless profusion. Every one in France, who bore a distinguished name, was bidden to the princely festival, which was destined to be commemorated by La Fontaine and by Benserade, by Pelisson and by Molière. Fouquet met the king at the gates of the chateau, and conducted him to the park. Here, notwithstanding all he had heard of the splendors of Vaux le Vicomte, the king was unprepared for the scene of magnificence which burst upon his view. The play of the fountains, the beauty of the park, and the splendor of the chateau were long remembered by the guests at this princely festival. But to Louis XIV. it was gall and wormwood; and when he took leave of his obsequious host, he remarked bitterly: “I shall never again, sir, venture to invite you to visit me. You would find yourself inconvenienced.” [Illustration: LOUIS XIV. TAKING LEAVE OF FOUQUET.]