As Fouquet was giving, or appearing to give, all his attention tothe brilliant illuminations, the languishing music of the violinsand hautboys, the sparkling sheaves of the artificial fires, which,inflaming the heavens with glowing reflections, marked behind thetrees the dark profile of the donjon of Vincennes; as, we say, thesuperintendent was smiling on the ladies and the poets the fete wasevery whit as gay as usual; and Vatel, whose restless, even jealouslook, earnestly consulted the aspect of Fouquet, did not appeardissatisfied with the welcome given to the ordering of the evening'sentertainment. The fireworks over, the company dispersed about thegardens and beneath the marble porticoes with the delightful libertywhich reveals in the master of the house so much forgetfulnessof greatness, so much courteous hospitality, so much magnificentcarelessness. The poets wandered about, arm in arm, through the groves;some reclined upon beds of moss, to the great damage of velvet clothesand curled heads, into which little dried leaves and blades of grassinsinuated themselves. The ladies, in small numbers, listened to thesongs of the singers and the verses of the poets; others listened to theprose, spoken with much art, by men who were neither actors nor poets,but to whom youth and solitude gave an unaccustomed eloquence, whichappeared to them better than everything else in the world. "Why," saidLa Fontaine, "does not our master Epicurus descend into the garden?Epicurus never abandoned his pupils, the master is wrong."
"Monsieur," said Conrart, "you yourself are in the wrong persisting indecorating yourself with the name of an Epicurean; indeed, nothing herereminds me of the doctrine of the philosopher of Gargetta."
"Bah!" said La Fontaine, "is it not written that Epicurus purchased alarge garden and lived in it tranquilly with his friends?"
"That is true."
"Well, has not M. Fouquet purchased a large garden at Saint-Mande, anddo we not live here very tranquilly with him and his friends?"
"Yes, without doubt; unfortunately it is neither the garden nor thefriends which constitute the resemblance. Now, what likeness is therebetween the doctrine of Epicurus and that of M. Fouquet?"
"This--pleasure gives happiness."
"Next?"
"Well, I do not think we ought to consider ourselves unfortunate, formy part, at least. A good repast--vin de Foigny, which they have thedelicacy to go and fetch for me from my favorite cabaret--not oneimpertinence heard during a supper an hour long, in spite of thepresence of ten millionaires and twenty poets."
"I stop you there. You mentioned vin de Foigny, and a good repast, doyou persist in that?"
"I persist,--anteco, as they say at Port Royal."
"Then please to recollect that the great Epicurus lived, and made hispupils live, upon bread, vegetables, and water."
"That is not certain," said La Fontaine; "and you appear to me to beconfounding Epicurus with Pythagoras, my dear Conrart."
"Remember, likewise, that the ancient philosopher was rather a badfriend of the gods and the magistrates."
"Oh! that is what I will not admit," replied La Fontaine. "Epicurus waslike M. Fouquet."
"Do not compare him to monsieur le surintendant," said Conrart, in anagitated voice, "or you would accredit the reports which are circulatedconcerning him and us."
"What reports?"
"That we are bad Frenchmen, lukewarm with regard to the king, deaf tothe law."
"I return, then, to my text," said La Fontaine. "Listen, Conrart, thisis the morality of Epicurus, whom, besides, I consider, if I must tellyou so, as a myth. Antiquity is mostly mythical. Jupiter, if we givea little attention to it, is life. Alcides is strength. The words arethere to bear me out; Zeus, that is, zen, to live. Alcides, thatis, alce, vigor. Well, Epicurus, that is mild watchfulness, that isprotection; now who watches better over the state, or who protectsindividuals better than M. Fouquet does?"
"You talk etymology and not morality; I say that we modern Epicureansare indifferent citizens."
"Oh!" cried La Fontaine, "if we become bad citizens, it is not throughfollowing the maxims of our master. Listen to one of his principalaphorisms."
"I--will."
"Pray for good leaders."
"Well?"
"Well! what does M. Fouquet say to us every day? 'When shall we begoverned?' Does he say so? Come, Conrart, be frank."
"He says so, that is true."
"Well, that is a doctrine of Epicurus."
"Yes; but that is a little seditious, observe."
"What! seditious to wish to be governed by good heads or leaders?"
"Certainly, when those who govern are bad."
"Patience, I have a reply for all."
"Even for what I have just said to you?"
"Listen! would you submit to those who govern ill? Oh! it is written:Cacos politeuousi. You grant me the text?"
"Pardieu! I think so. Do you know, you speak Greek as well as AEsop did,my dear La Fontaine."
"Is there any wickedness in that, my dear Conrart?"
"God forbid I should say so."
"Then let us return to M. Fouquet. What did he repeat to us all the day?Was it not this? 'What a cuistre is that Mazarin! what an ass! what aleech! We must, however, submit to the fellow.' Now, Conrart, did he sayso, or did he not?"
"I confess that he said it, and even perhaps too often."
"Like Epicurus, my friend, still like Epicurus; I repeat, we areEpicureans, and that is very amusing."
"Yes, but I am afraid there will rise up, by the side of us, a sect likethat of Epictetus, you know him well; the philosopher of Hieropolis,he who called bread luxury, vegetables prodigality, and clear waterdrunkenness; he who, being beaten by his master, said to him, grumblinga little it is true, but without being angry, 'I will lay a wager youhave broken my leg!'--and who won his wager."
"He was a goose, that fellow Epictetus."
"Granted, but he might easily become the fashion by only changing hisname into that of Colbert."
"Bah!" replied La Fontaine, "that is impossible. Never will you findColbert in Epictetus."
"You are right, I shall find--Coluber there, at the most."
"Ah! you are beaten, Conrart; you are reduced to a play upon words. M.Arnaud pretends that I have no logic; I have more than M. Nicolle."
"Yes," replied Conrart, "you have logic, but you are a Jansenist."
This peroration was hailed with a boisterous shout of laughter; bydegrees the promenaders had been attracted by the exclamations of thetwo disputants around the arbor under which they were arguing. Thediscussion had been religiously listened to, and Fouquet himself,scarcely able to suppress his laughter, had given an example ofmoderation. But with the denouement of the scene he threw off allrestraint, and laughed aloud. Everybody laughed as he did, and the twophilosophers were saluted with unanimous felicitations. La Fontaine,however, was declared conqueror, on account of his profound eruditionand his irrefragable logic. Conrart obtained the compensation due toan unsuccessful combatant; he was praised for the loyalty of hisintentions, and the purity of his conscience.
At the moment when this jollity was manifesting itself by the mostlively demonstrations, when the ladies were reproaching the twoadversaries with not having admitted women into the system of Epicureanhappiness, Gourville was seen hastening from the other end of thegarden, approaching Fouquet, and detaching him, by his presence alone,from the group. The superintendent preserved on his face the smile andcharacter of carelessness; but scarcely was he out of sight than hethrew off the mask.
"Well!" said he, eagerly, "where is Pellisson! What is he doing?"
"Pellisson has returned from Paris."
"Has he brought back the prisoners?"
"He has not even seen the concierge of the prison."
"What! did he not tell him he came from me?"
"He told him so, but the concierge sent him this reply: 'If any one cameto me from M. Fouquet, he would have a letter from M. Fouquet.'"
"Oh!" cried the latter, "if a letter is all he wants----"
"It is useless, monsieur!" said Pelli
sson, showing himself at the cornerof the little wood, "useless! Go yourself, and speak in your own name."
"You are right. I will go in, as if to work; let the horses remainharnessed, Pellisson. Entertain my friends, Gourville."
"One last word of advice, monseigneur," replied the latter.
"Speak, Gourville."
"Do not go to the concierge save at the last minute; it is brave, butit is not wise. Excuse me, Monsieur Pellisson, if I am not of the sameopinion as you; but take my advice, monseigneur, send again a message tothis concierge,--he is a worthy man, but do not carry it yourself."
"I will think of it," said Fouquet; "besides, we have all the nightbefore us."
"Do not reckon too much on time; were the hours we have twice as many asthey are, they would not be too much," replied Pellisson; "it is never afault to arrive too soon."
"Adieu!" said the superintendent; "come with me, Pellisson. Gourville, Icommend my guests to your care." And he set off. The Epicureans didnot perceive that the head of the school had left them; the violinscontinued playing all night long.
CHAPTER 59. A Quarter of an Hour's Delay