“why am I interfered with here? Is my cellar kept in bad order?”

“No, certes, Vatel, no; but — ”

“But what?” replied Vatel. Gourville touched Fouquet’s elbow.

“Don’t be angry, Vatel; I thought my cellar — your cellar — sufficiently well stocked for us to be able to dispense with recourse to the cellar of L’Image-de-Notre-Dame.”

“Eh, monsieur,” said Vatel, shrinking from monseigneur to monsieur with a degree of disdain: “your cellar is so well stocked that when certain of your guests dine with you they have nothing to drink.”

Fouquet, in great surprise, looked at Gourville. “What do you mean by that?”