Ten minutes afterwards she heard the spring of the door sound.The door moved upon invisible hinges, and Fouquet appeared.He looked pale, and seemed bowed down by the weight of some bitter reflection.He did not hurry, but simply came at the summons.The pre-occupation of his mind must indeed have been very great, that a man so devoted to pleasure, for whom indeed pleasure meant everything, should obey such a summons so listlessly.The previous night, in fact, fertile in melancholy ideas, had sharpened his features, generally so noble in their indifference of expression, and had traced dark lines of anxiety around his eyes.Handsome and noble he still was, and the melancholy expression of his mouth, a rare expression with men, gave a new character to his features, by which his youth seemed to be renewed.Dressed in black, the lace in front of his chest much disarranged by his feverishly restless hand, the looks of the superintendent, full of dreamy reflection, were fixed upon the threshold of the room which he had so frequently approached in search of expected happiness.This gloomy gentleness of manner, this smiling sadness of expression, which had replaced his former excessive joy, produced an indescribable effect upon Madame de Belliere, who was regarding him at a distance.
A woman's eye can read the face of the man she loves, its every feeling of pride, its every expression of suffering;it might almost be said that Heaven has graciously granted to women, on account of their very weakness, more than it has accorded to other creatures.They can conceal their own feelings from a man, but from them no man can conceal his.
The marquise divined in a single glance the whole weight of the unhappiness of the superintendent.She divined a night passed without sleep, a day passed in deceptions.From that moment she was firm in her own strength, and she felt that she loved Fouquet beyond everything else.She arose and approached him, saying, "You wrote to me this morning to say you were beginning to forget me, and that I, whom you had not seen lately, had no doubt ceased to think of you.I have come to undeceive you, monsieur, and the more completely so, because there is one thing I can read in your eyes.""What is that, madame?" said Fouquet, astonished.
"That you have never loved me so much as at this moment; in the same manner you can read, in my present step towards you, that I have not forgotten you.""Oh! madame," said Fouquet, whose face was for a moment lighted up by a sudden gleam of joy, "you are indeed an angel, and no man can suspect you.All he can do is to humble himself before you and entreat forgiveness.""Your forgiveness is granted, then," said the marquise.
Fouquet was about to throw himself upon his knees."No, no,"she said, "sit here by my side.Ah! that is an evil thought which has just crossed your mind.""How do you detect it, madame?"
"By the smile that has just marred the expression of your countenance, Be candid, and tell me what your thought was --no secrets between friends."
"Tell me, then, madame, why have you been so harsh these three or four months past?""Harsh?"
"Yes; did you not forbid me to visit you?""Alas!" said Madame de Belliere, sighing, "because your visit to me was the cause of your being visited with a great misfortune; because my house is watched; because the same eyes that have seen you already might see you again; because I think it less dangerous for you that I should come here than that you should come to my house; and, lastly, because I know you to be already unhappy enough not to wish to increase your unhappiness further."Fouquet started, for these words recalled all the anxieties connected with his office of superintendent -- he who, for the last few minutes, had indulged in all the wild aspirations of the lover."I unhappy?" he said, endeavoring to smile: "indeed, marquise, you will almost make me believe I am so, judging from your own sadness.Are your beautiful eyes raised upon me merely in pity? I was looking for another expression from them.""It is not I who am sad, monsieur; look in the mirror, there -- it is yourself.""It is true I am somewhat pale, marquise; but it is from overwork; the king yesterday required a supply of money from me.""Yes, four millions, I am aware of it."
"You know it?" exclaimed Fouquet, in a tone of surprise;"how can you have learnt it? It was after the departure of the queen, and in the presence of one person only, that the king ---- ""You perceive that I do know it; is not that sufficient?
