"All right," said Mary, "now you can open your eyes and look at the crystal ball." ”

The king opened his eyes, and when he looked at the crystal ball, he initially saw a white fog, but after a few seconds, the fog gradually dissipated, and the first thing he saw was black and white, rising and falling, and before he thought of something discordant, his perspective suddenly changed, and he realized that what he had seen before was one of Fouquet's sleeves, and the hand outstretched from the sleeve crushed a little bread and threw it on the wooden board that looked like a windowsill, the "lens" Then it swayed rapidly, and the king was dizzy, and before he could say anything, he cried out viciously, "Look what I'm doing!"

The king was stuck, so he had to obey his fate, fortunately the "camera" was no longer shaking at this time, it was pulled far away, but still looking at Fouquet, this gentleman no longer put on that pitiful appearance of trembling, he looked into the distance with a deep face, and was holding the letter that the king handed him, this letter was likely to kill him, but it could also be the first step for him to embark on the road of splendor, it only depends on how he chooses- Louie's gaze stayed on him for a moment and then looked away to see if there were any people around him who seemed to be talking or interacting with him, and then as the "camera" moved, he saw the scene inside the inn, but it was a pity that this inn was the same as the other inns, uniform dirty and simple, and there was nothing special about it.

"But at least it's guaranteed that he's on his way. The king whispered. Fortunately, it was morning, and Monsieur Fouquet had finished his meal (that is, the loaf of bread) and set out, the golden sun shining on his face and not on his back, indicating that he was heading east, and Liège was on the border between Belgium and the Ardennes in France, that is to say, on the east side of Hertel, and on the west side of Paris, Orleans, and Bordeaux—Monsieur Fouquet was not going to their enemies.

"Your ...... This," the king did not know how to describe: "how far can he see?"

"It depends on how long the scent of that rose stays on him," said Mary, "and my rook sniffs the scent and tracks the target, and when it fades, it can't be found." ”

"It would be wonderful," said the king, "that seems we will be able to watch him arrive in Liège." ”

"How did I not know that the scent of that rose would last so long?" muttered Mary strangely.

The king smiled: "For Monsieur Fouquet will keep it, and if he succeeds in the task I have entrusted to him, he will show it to me when he returns." ”

"How do you know?"

"Because it's me, I'm going to do it. "Anyone, including the king, would love to see that even the slightest gift could be remembered.

"Man!" said Mary, sighing.

————————

Monsieur Fouquet did not know that he was under magical surveillance, and although he did not travel day and night—he knew very well that he could not do it, and that if he fell ill in the inn, he would only delay the time even more, but he did manage to walk thirty miles a day, and on the evening of the third day he arrived at the hermitage of Bishop Mazarin, who carefully chose a castle-like monastery - this kind of monastery was not uncommon in Europe, after all, the army loved to plunder either castles or monasteries, and sometimes monasteries were still in the forefront, because in addition to jewelry, In addition to the relics and books, most monasteries have a large amount of food storage and home-brewing.

When Mr. Fouquet asked for an audience with the bishop, the bishop was at the invitation of the abbot to determine the quality of the "holy water", of course, not the kind of spring water with salt, but beer, this golden-colored, frothy liquor was brewed by the monks as early as the eleventh century, but it has not been made public, it is said that someone is suggesting to the Holy Father in Rome that the monks should be allowed to brew their own beer and drink it on the fasting day to supplement the lack of nutrients, but the Holy Father is always busy all day long, and he cannot take care of it for the time being— Anyway, even if it was fasting, the Roman priests would not go hungry, and people said that the Roman priests were all a top three, not because of their religious attainments, but because of their incomparably fat bodies.

Bishop Mazarin was noncommittal, he was equally not interested in whether the monks would be able to drink beer on the day of fasting, and although he declared his retirement, his heart was always at the king's side, and his eyes were constantly watching every move in Paris, Orleans and Bordeaux, never relaxing. As soon as he heard that someone had come from Hital, he immediately put down his cup, and the abbot of the monastery wisely took his leave.

When Fouquet saw Mr. Bishop, he knelt down and kissed his ring, and Mr. Bishop allowed it, and he had a vivid impression of Fouquet, and knew that he was on the king's side with him, but he did not immediately listen to the information from Fouquet, but let him stand up and walk with him in the courtyard - the courtyard of the monastery, unlike the laity, was almost no tall trees, and it was difficult for the peeper to hide his tracks and eavesdrop on their words. Fouquet gladly obeyed, after all, if he was only in the courtyard, once Mr. Bishop was angry, he could still escape, in the room...... He dared to vouch for that Mr. Bishop's room was flanked by his guards.

To Mr. Fouquet's surprise, Mr. Bishop read the letter, and was not furious, but lowered his head and thought for a while, "Then that's it. He said, a little confused, why the young man was frowning in the face of such a good thing.

"What?"

"Why, didn't Your Majesty tell you?" said Bishop Mazaran kindly, "You know, because of the matter in Saint-Germain-en-Laye, I dismissed the treasurer, Particheri Emery, and asked him to go back to his Siena and continue to be his farmer, but the king and I also need a trustworthy person to take care of our finances, you know, Monsieur Fouquet, money is now being used everywhere, and I have sent a letter to the king asking him to recommend a man. ”

He glanced at Fouquet, "He recommended you, Mr. Fouquet, from now on, you are the Minister of Finance, and you will be in charge of the treasury for the king...... Why is your face so ugly, are you not feeling well?"

"Sorry ......" only Fouquet himself knew, his boots were full of water, his underwear was soaked, to say that he didn't have any other thoughts, it was a lie, but he had the nature of a gambler, so he still came, he won the bet, but he still couldn't stand a moment of dizziness, he knew that this was the king's test for him, whether he decided to betray, or wanted to escape, or because he was not cautious enough to make a mistake on the road, what awaited him was only destruction.

"That's right. As if not seeing his strangeness, Mr. Bishop said leisurely, "I have agreed with Your Majesty that I will first hand over to you a bill of exchange worth a hundred thousand livres for your custody and care, and for the sake of safety, I will have my escort escort you back to Hitelle," he called out to a clump of withered eggplant vines, "Let Charles de Baz Casdelmo come to me." Immediately someone responded loudly, and ran back to the abbey as fast as he could: "It's a Gasconian, but he has a good mother, and we all call her Madame Françoise de d'Artagnan Montesquieu, so occasionally we call him Count d'Artagnan, or d'Artagnan, as you like, he's not so a man of etiquette." ”

In the few words that Mr. Bishop had finished, the Monsieur d'Artagnan had already run up to Fouquet, a good lad with a red face (perhaps just because he had run too quickly), a long man with a pair of shining brown eyes, who, as soon as he saw him, saluted him, kissed his ring, and then asked aloud if Mr. Bishop had called him if there was anything important for him to do, and he could do as long as he commanded.

So the Bishop told him about it, and asked him to go to the old town of Hetayl, and deliver them to His Majesty, with whom he thought trustworthy, and to protect Monsieur Fouquet and a large sum of money.

"Alas, I always have to come back. D'Artagnan said.

"Don't come back," said the bishop, "I am going to send you to the king, and what is the use of you staying with me, and a clergyman, but it is better to go and fight for the king, for your majesty is a generous and just man, and you are being valued by his side, which is what a young man of talent should do." ”

"And," added the bishop, "your cousin, Pierre de Montesquieu, is also in the ranks of the king's musketeers, and will you not go and fight alongside him? ”

At this point, d'Artagnan agreed, for when he joined the army, he used the title of count, which his cousin Pierre had lent him, so quickly that he could come into the sight of the bishop and the marshal of Gramont, and get a recommendation, so he was always thinking about it: "What more," he said, "I owe him seven hundred louis." ”

"Then you should go. The bishop replied: "After that there are many battles to be fought, and you will have to take the reward from the king's hand." ”

When d'Artagnan heard this, he immediately bowed down and thanked Monsieur Bishop properly, and when he returned, he chose three of his friends to be his companions—they were equally willing to serve the king—and they set out in haste the next day, and then returned to Hitelle on the seventh day after Monsieur Fouquet's departure, and at the sight of the king, he threw himself at his feet and thanked him for the trust he had placed in him.

"Then I can trust you. Louie asked.

"There is no doubt about it!" said Fouquet, "even if you want me to dance with the devil, I will go, and ask you if you want to see the Brown or the Miènu (two dances popular in France at the time). ”

"I don't want you to dance with the devil," said Louis, "but the people with whom you will deal are probably like the devil, and you have to be careful to keep your life safe." ”

"As long as it is your will. ”

The king nodded to Bontang, and Bontang walked out, leaving Fouquet and the king in the room.

"There's one thing I want you to do somewhere else. Louis said, "I will give you a hundred thousand livres, and you will go to a reliable printer, and print some fine little pieces of paper, with twelve numerals in order, and the molds of the printing will be so fine that they will be difficult to imitate, and when they are finished, they will be destroyed, and then you will put some advertisements in the newspapers, and tell the people that they will be sold for a small feg each— When all the pieces of paper have been sold, you will set up a large bucket in the square that can be rolled, and put in the large barrel a small ball with numbers printed on it, leaving a small hole in the barrel, and the hole will only allow a small ball to fall - you can ask a person who is known for his impartiality and innocence, or an ignorant child, to shake the large bucket to fill the twelve balls, and after they are discharged, the amount of the reward can be determined according to the number of similar numbers. ”

Nicolas Fouquet was a shrewd man, and had an incomparable love and talent for accumulating money, and as soon as Louis said this, he immediately understood, and he clenched his fists excitedly, and wanted to do it immediately!

"It's also more dangerous. Louie said.