M. Fauchet stared at him
awhile before he recognised him; but at last the trembling man
knew him, and tottering to his feet, threw himself on his knees,
looking years older than when I had last seen him in the street.
"Sire," he said faintly, "I will make restitution."
Henry looked at him gravely, and nodded. "It is well," he said.
"You are fortunate, M. Fauchet; for had this come to my ears in
any other way I could not have spared you. You will render your
accounts and papers to M. de Sully to-morrow, and according as
you are frank with him you will be treated."
Fauchet thanked him with abject tears, and the King rose and
prepared to leave. But at the door a thought struck him, and he
turned. "How long have you done this?" he said, indicating the
room by a gesture, and speaking in a gentler tone.
"Three years, sire," the wretched man answered.
"And how much have you distributed?"
"Fifteen hundred crowns, sire."
The King cast an indescribable look at me, wherein amusement,
scorn, and astonishment were all blended.
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