reject which is to make a sacrifice of both.”
“I was wrong, certainly,” replied Fouquet. “Yes,—I had the appearance of
extorting a favor; I regret it, and entreat your majesty’s forgiveness.”
“And you are forgiven, my dear Monsieur Fouquet,” said the king, with a
smile, which restored the serene expression of his features, which so many circumstances had altered since the preceding evening.
“I have my own forgiveness,” replied the minister, with some degree of
persistence; “but M. d’Herblay, and M. du Vallon?”
“They will never obtain theirs, as long as I live,” replied the inflexible king.
“Do me the kindness not to speak of it again.”
“Your majesty shall be obeyed.”
“And you will bear me no ill-will for it?”
“Oh! no, sire; for I anticipated the event.”
“You had ‘anticipated’ t
