his kingdom—for saying that he was not hungry. Nay, M. Fouquet did even
better still; he certainly, in obedience to the king’s expressed desire, seated himself at the table, but as soon as the soups were served, he arose and personally waited on the king, while Madame Fouquet stood behind the queen-mother’s armchair. The disdain of Juno and the sulky fits of temper of Jupiter could not resist this excess of kindly feeling and polite attention. The queen ate a
biscuit dipped in a glass of San-Lucar wine; and the king ate of everything, saying to M. Fouquet: “It is impossible, monsieur le surintendant, to dine better
anywhere.” Whereupon the whole court began, on all sides, to devour the dishes
spread before them with such enthusiasm that it looked as though a cloud of Egyptian locusts w
