"Sire," said Fouquet, remarking the gracious manner in which Louis was about to receive him, "your majesty has overwhelmed me with kindness during the last few days. It is not a youthful monarch, but a being of a higher order, who reigns over France--one whom pleasure, happiness, and love acknowledge as their master." The king colored. The compliment, although flattering, was not the less somewhat direct. Louis conducted Fouquet to a small room which separated his study from his sleeping apartment. "Do you know why I summoned you?" said the king, as he seated himself upon the edge of the window, so as not to lose anything that might be passing in the gardens which fronted the opposite entrance to Madame's pavilion. "No, sire," replied Fouquet; "but I am sure for something agreeable, if I am to judge from your majesty's gracious smile." "You are mistaken, then." "I, sire?" "For I summoned you, on the contrary, to pick a quarrel with you." "With me, sire?" "Yes, and that a serious one." "Your majesty alarms me; and yet I wait most confident in your justice and goodness." "Do you know I am told, Monsieur Fouquet, that you are preparing a grand _fete_ at Vaux." Fouquet smiled, as a sick man would do at the first shiver of a fever which has left him but returns again. "And that you have not invited me!" continued the king. "Sire," replied Fouquet, "I have not even thought of the _fete_ you speak of, and it was only yesterday evening that one of my _friends_" (Fouquet laid a stress upon the word) "was kind enough to make me think of it." "Yet I saw you yesterday evening, Monsieur Fouquet, and you said nothing to me about it." "How dared I hope that your majesty would so greatly descend from your own exalted station as to honor my dwelling with your royal presence?" "Excuse me, Monsieur Fouquet, you did not speak to me about your _fete_." "I did not allude to the _fete_ to your majesty, I repeat, in the first place, because nothing had been decided with regard to it, and, secondly, because I feared a refusal." "And something made you fear a refusal, Monsieur Fouquet? You see I am determined to push you hard." "The profound wish I had that your majesty should accept my invitation--" "Well, Monsieur Fouquet, nothing is easier, I perceive, than our coming to an understanding. Your wish is to invite me to your _fete_--my own is to be present at it; invite me, and I will go." "Is it possible that your majesty will deign to accept?" murmured the surintendant. "Why, really, monsieur," said the king, laughing, "I think I do more than accept--I think I invite myself." "Your majesty overwhelms me with honor and delight!" exclaimed Fouquet; "but I shall be obliged to repeat what M. de Vieuville said to your ancestor Henry the Fourth, '_Domine non sum dignus_.'" "To which I reply, Monsieur Fouquet, that if you give a _fete_, I will go whether I am invited or not."