wie gestalte ich mein schlafzimmer neu

chapter xii.the wine of melun. the king had, in point of fact, enteredmelun with the intention of merely passing through the city. the youthful monarch was most eagerlyanxious for amusements; only twice during the journey had he been able to catch aglimpse of la valliere, and, suspecting that his only opportunity of speaking to her would be after nightfall, in thegardens, and after the ceremonial of reception had been gone through, he hadbeen very desirous to arrive at vaux as early as possible.

but he reckoned without his captain of themusketeers, and without m. colbert. like calypso, who could not be consoled atthe departure of ulysses, our gascon could not console himself for not having guessedwhy aramis had asked percerin to show him the king's new costumes. "there is not a doubt," he said to himself,"that my friend the bishop of vannes had some motive in that;" and then he began torack his brains most uselessly. d'artagnan, so intimately acquainted withall the court intrigues, who knew the position of fouquet better than evenfouquet himself did, had conceived the strangest fancies and suspicions at the

announcement of the fete, which would haveruined a wealthy man, and which became impossible, utter madness even, for a manso poor as he was. and then, the presence of aramis, who hadreturned from belle-isle, and been nominated by monsieur fouquet inspector-general of all the arrangements; his perseverance in mixing himself up with all the surintendant's affairs; his visits tobaisemeaux; all this suspicious singularity of conduct had excessively troubled andtormented d'artagnan during the last two weeks. "with men of aramis's stamp," he said, "oneis never the stronger except sword in hand.

so long as aramis continued a soldier,there was hope of getting the better of him; but since he has covered his cuirasswith a stole, we are lost. but what can aramis's object possibly be?" and d'artagnan plunged again into deepthought. "what does it matter to me, after all," hecontinued, "if his only object is to overthrow m. colbert? and what else can he be after?"and d'artagnan rubbed his forehead--that fertile land, whence the plowshare of hisnails had turned up so many and such admirable ideas in his time.

he, at first, thought of talking the matterover with colbert, but his friendship for aramis, the oath of earlier days, bound himtoo strictly. he revolted at the bare idea of such athing, and, besides, he hated the financier too cordially. then, again, he wished to unburden his mindto the king; but yet the king would not be able to understand the suspicions which hadnot even a shadow of reality at their base. he resolved to address himself to aramis,direct, the first time he met him. "i will get him," said the musketeer,"between a couple of candles, suddenly, and when he least expects it, i will place myhand upon his heart, and he will tell me--

what will he tell me? yes, he will tell me something, formordioux! there is something in it, i know." somewhat calmer, d'artagnan made everypreparation for the journey, and took the greatest care that the military householdof the king, as yet very inconsiderable in numbers, should be well officered and well disciplined in its meager and limitedproportions. the result was that, through the captain'sarrangements, the king, on arriving at melun, saw himself at the head of both themusketeers and swiss guards, as well as a

picket of the french guards. it might almost have been called a smallarmy. m. colbert looked at the troops with greatdelight: he even wished they had been a third more in number. "but why?" said the king."in order to show greater honor to m. fouquet," replied colbert."in order to ruin him the sooner," thought d'artagnan. when this little army appeared beforemelun, the chief magistrates came out to meet the king, and to present him with thekeys of the city, and invited him to enter

the hotel de ville, in order to partake ofthe wine of honor. the king, who expected to pass through thecity and to proceed to vaux without delay, became quite red in the face from vexation. "who was fool enough to occasion thisdelay?" muttered the king, between his teeth, as the chief magistrate was in themiddle of a long address. "not i, certainly," replied d'artagnan,"but i believe it was m. colbert." colbert, having heard his name pronounced,said, "what was m. d'artagnan good enough to say?" "i was good enough to remark that it wasyou who stopped the king's progress, so

that he might taste the vin de brie.was i right?" "quite so, monsieur." "in that case, then, it was you whom theking called some name or other." "what name?""i hardly know; but wait a moment--idiot, i think it was--no, no, it was fool or dolt. yes; his majesty said that the man who hadthought of the vin de melun was something of the sort." d'artagnan, after this broadside, quietlycaressed his mustache; m. colbert's large head seemed to become larger and largerthan ever.

d'artagnan, seeing how ugly anger made him,did not stop half-way. the orator still went on with his speech,while the king's color was visibly increasing. "mordioux!" said the musketeer, coolly,"the king is going to have an attack of determination of blood to the head.where the deuce did you get hold of that idea, monsieur colbert? you have no luck.""monsieur," said the financier, drawing himself up, "my zeal for the king's serviceinspired me with the idea." "bah!"

"monsieur, melun is a city, an excellentcity, which pays well, and which it would be imprudent to displease.""there, now! i, who do not pretend to be a financier,saw only one idea in your idea." "what was that, monsieur?" "that of causing a little annoyance to m.fouquet, who is making himself quite giddy on his donjons yonder, in waiting for us."this was a home-stroke, hard enough in all conscience. colbert was completely thrown out of thesaddle by it, and retired, thoroughly discomfited.

fortunately, the speech was now at an end;the king drank the wine which was presented to him, and then every one resumed theprogress through the city. the king bit his lips in anger, for theevening was closing in, and all hope of a walk with la valliere was at an end. in order that the whole of the king'shousehold should enter vaux, four hours at least were necessary, owing to thedifferent arrangements. the king, therefore, who was boiling withimpatience, hurried forward as much as possible, in order to reach it beforenightfall. but, at the moment he was setting offagain, other and fresh difficulties arose.

"is not the king going to sleep at melun?"said colbert, in a low tone of voice, to m. colbert must have been badly inspiredthat day, to address himself in that manner to the chief of the musketeers; for thelatter guessed that the king's intention was very far from that of remaining wherehe was. d'artagnan would not allow him to entervaux except he were well and strongly accompanied; and desired that his majestywould not enter except with all the escort. on the other hand, he felt that thesedelays would irritate that impatient monarch beyond measure.in what way could he possibly reconcile these difficulties?

d'artagnan took up colbert's remark, anddetermined to repeated it to the king. "sire," he said, "m. colbert has beenasking me if your majesty does not intend to sleep at melun." "sleep at melun!what for?" exclaimed louis xiv. "sleep at melun! who, in heaven's name, can have thought ofsuch a thing, when m. fouquet is expecting us this evening?" "it was simply," replied colbert, quickly,"the fear of causing your majesty the least delay; for, according to establishedetiquette, you cannot enter any place, with

the exception of your own royal residences, until the soldiers' quarters have beenmarked out by the quartermaster, and the garrison properly distributed." d'artagnan listened with the greatestattention, biting his mustache to conceal his vexation; and the queens were not lessinterested. they were fatigued, and would havepreferred to go to rest without proceeding any farther; more especially, in order toprevent the king walking about in the evening with m. de saint-aignan and the ladies of the court, for, if etiquetterequired the princesses to remain within

their own rooms, the ladies of honor, assoon as they had performed the services required of them, had no restrictions placed upon them, but were at liberty towalk about as they pleased. it will easily be conjectured that allthese rival interests, gathering together in vapors, necessarily produced clouds, andthat the clouds were likely to be followed by a tempest. the king had no mustache to gnaw, andtherefore kept biting the handle of his whip instead, with ill-concealedimpatience. how could he get out of it?

d'artagnan looked as agreeable as possible,and colbert as sulky as he could. who was there he could get in a passionwith? "we will consult the queen," said louisxiv., bowing to the royal ladies. and this kindness of consideration softenedmaria theresa's heart, who, being of a kind and generous disposition, when left to herown free-will, replied: "i shall be delighted to do whatever yourmajesty wishes." "how long will it take us to get to vaux?"inquired anne of austria, in slow and measured accents, placing her hand upon herbosom, where the seat of her pain lay. "an hour for your majesty's carriages,"said d'artagnan; "the roads are tolerably

good."the king looked at him. "and a quarter of an hour for the king," hehastened to add. "we should arrive by daylight?" said louisxiv. "but the billeting of the king's militaryescort," objected colbert, softly, "will make his majesty lose all the advantage ofhis speed, however quick he may be." "double ass that you are!" thoughtd'artagnan; "if i had any interest or motive in demolishing your credit with theking, i could do it in ten minutes. if i were in the king's place," he addedaloud, "i should, in going to m. fouquet, leave my escort behind me; i should go tohim as a friend; i should enter accompanied

only by my captain of the guards; i should consider that i was acting more nobly, andshould be invested with a still more sacred character by doing so."delight sparkled in the king's eyes. "that is indeed a very sensible suggestion. we will go to see a friend as friends; thegentlemen who are with the carriages can go slowly: but we who are mounted will rideon." and he rode off, accompanied by all thosewho were mounted. colbert hid his ugly head behind hishorse's neck. "i shall be quits," said d'artagnan, as hegalloped along, "by getting a little talk

with aramis this evening.and then, m. fouquet is a man of honor. mordioux! i have said so, and it must be so." and this was the way how, towards seveno'clock in the evening, without announcing his arrival by the din of trumpets, andwithout even his advanced guard, without out-riders or musketeers, the king presented himself before the gate of vaux,where fouquet, who had been informed of his royal guest's approach, had been waitingfor the last half-hour, with his head uncovered, surrounded by his household andhis friends.

> chapter xiii.nectar and ambrosia. m. fouquet held the stirrup of the king,who, having dismounted, bowed most graciously, and more graciously still heldout his hand to him, which fouquet, in spite of a slight resistance on the king'spart, carried respectfully to his lips. the king wished to wait in the firstcourtyard for the arrival of the carriages, nor had he long to wait, for the roads hadbeen put into excellent order by the superintendent, and a stone would hardly have been found of the size of an egg thewhole way from melun to vaux; so that the

carriages, rolling along as though on acarpet, brought the ladies to vaux, without jolting or fatigue, by eight o'clock. they were received by madame fouquet, andat the moment they made their appearance, a light as bright as day burst forth fromevery quarter, trees, vases, and marble statues. this species of enchantment lasted untiltheir majesties had retired into the palace. all these wonders and magical effects whichthe chronicler has heaped up, or rather embalmed, in his recital, at the risk ofrivaling the brain-born scenes of

romancers; these splendors whereby night seemed vanquished and nature corrected,together with every delight and luxury combined for the satisfaction of all thesenses, as well as the imagination, fouquet did in real truth offer to his sovereign in that enchanting retreat of which no monarchcould at that time boast of possessing an equal. we do not intend to describe the grandbanquet, at which the royal guests were present, nor the concerts, nor the fairy-like and more than magic transformations and metamorphoses; it will be enough for

our purpose to depict the countenance theking assumed, which, from being gay, soon wore a very gloomy, constrained, andirritated expression. he remembered his own residence, royalthough it was, and the mean and indifferent style of luxury that prevailed there, whichcomprised but little more than what was merely useful for the royal wants, withoutbeing his own personal property. the large vases of the louvre, the olderfurniture and plate of henry ii., of francis i., and of louis xi., were buthistoric monuments of earlier days; nothing but specimens of art, the relics of his predecessors; while with fouquet, the valueof the article was as much in the

workmanship as in the article itself. fouquet ate from a gold service, whichartists in his own employ had modeled and cast for him alone. fouquet drank wines of which the king offrance did not even know the name, and drank them out of goblets each morevaluable than the entire royal cellar. what, too, was to be said of theapartments, the hangings, the pictures, the servants and officers, of everydescription, of his household? what of the mode of service in whichetiquette was replaced by order; stiff formality by personal, unrestrainedcomfort; the happiness and contentment of

the guest became the supreme law of all whoobeyed the host? the perfect swarm of busily engaged personsmoving about noiselessly; the multitude of guests,--who were, however, even lessnumerous than the servants who waited on them,--the myriad of exquisitely prepared dishes, of gold and silver vases; thefloods of dazzling light, the masses of unknown flowers of which the hot-houses hadbeen despoiled, redundant with luxuriance of unequaled scent and beauty; the perfect harmony of the surroundings, which, indeed,was no more than the prelude of the promised fete, charmed all who were there;and they testified their admiration over

and over again, not by voice or gesture, but by deep silence and rapt attention,those two languages of the courtier which acknowledge the hand of no master powerfulenough to restrain them. as for the king, his eyes filled withtears; he dared not look at the queen. anne of austria, whose pride was superiorto that of any creature breathing, overwhelmed her host by the contempt withwhich she treated everything handed to her. the young queen, kind-hearted by nature andcurious by disposition, praised fouquet, ate with an exceedingly good appetite, andasked the names of the strange fruits as they were placed upon the table.

fouquet replied that he was not aware oftheir names. the fruits came from his own stores; he hadoften cultivated them himself, having an intimate acquaintance with the cultivationof exotic fruits and plants. the king felt and appreciated the delicacyof the replies, but was only the more humiliated; he thought the queen a littletoo familiar in her manners, and that anne of austria resembled juno a little too much, in being too proud and haughty; hischief anxiety, however, was himself, that he might remain cold and distant in hisbehavior, bordering lightly the limits of supreme disdain or simple admiration.

but fouquet had foreseen all this; he was,in fact, one of those men who foresee everything. the king had expressly declared that, solong as he remained under fouquet's roof, he did not wish his own different repaststo be served in accordance with the usual etiquette, and that he would, consequently, dine with the rest of society; but by thethoughtful attention of the surintendant, the king's dinner was served up separately,if one may so express it, in the middle of the general table; the dinner, wonderful in every respect, from the dishes of which wascomposed, comprised everything the king

liked and generally preferred to anythingelse. louis had no excuse--he, indeed, who hadthe keenest appetite in his kingdom--for saying that he was not hungry. nay, m. fouquet did even better still; hecertainly, in obedience to the king's expressed desire, seated himself at thetable, but as soon as the soups were served, he arose and personally waited on the king, while madame fouquet stood behindthe queen-mother's armchair. the disdain of juno and the sulky fits oftemper of jupiter could not resist this excess of kindly feeling and politeattention.

the queen ate a biscuit dipped in a glassof san-lucar wine; and the king ate of everything, saying to m. fouquet: "it isimpossible, monsieur le surintendant, to dine better anywhere." whereupon the whole court began, on allsides, to devour the dishes spread before them with such enthusiasm that it looked asthough a cloud of egyptian locusts was settling down on green and growing crops. as soon, however, as his hunger wasappeased, the king became morose and overgloomed again; the more so inproportion to the satisfaction he fancied he had previously manifested, and

particularly on account of the deferentialmanner which his courtiers had shown towards fouquet. d'artagnan, who ate a good deal and drankbut little, without allowing it to be noticed, did not lose a single opportunity,but made a great number of observations which he turned to good profit. when the supper was finished, the kingexpressed a wish not to lose the promenade. the park was illuminated; the moon, too, asif she had placed herself at the orders of the lord of vaux, silvered the trees andlake with her own bright and quasi- phosphorescent light.

the air was strangely soft and balmy; thedaintily shell-gravelled walks through the thickly set avenues yielded luxuriously tothe feet. the fete was complete in every respect, forthe king, having met la valliere in one of the winding paths of the wood, was able topress her hand and say, "i love you," without any one overhearing him except m. d'artagnan, who followed, and m. fouquet,who preceded him. the dreamy night of magical enchantmentsstole smoothly on. the king having requested to be shown tohis room, there was immediately a movement in every direction.

the queens passed to their own apartments,accompanied by them music of theorbos and lutes; the king found his musketeersawaiting him on the grand flight of steps, for m. fouquet had brought them on frommelun and had invited them to supper. d'artagnan's suspicions at oncedisappeared. he was weary, he had supped well, andwished, for once in his life, thoroughly to enjoy a fete given by a man who was inevery sense of the word a king. "m. fouquet," he said, "is the man for me." the king was conducted with the greatestceremony to the chamber of morpheus, of which we owe some cursory description toour readers.

it was the handsomest and largest in thepalace. lebrun had painted on the vaulted ceilingthe happy as well as the unhappy dreams which morpheus inflicts on kings as well ason other men. everything that sleep gives birth to thatis lovely, its fairy scenes, its flowers and nectar, the wild voluptuousness orprofound repose of the senses, had the painter elaborated on his frescoes. it was a composition as soft and pleasingin one part as dark and gloomy and terrible in another. the poisoned chalice, the glittering daggersuspended over the head of the sleeper;

wizards and phantoms with terrific masks,those half-dim shadows more alarming than the approach of fire or the somber face of midnight, these, and such as these, he hadmade the companions of his more pleasing pictures. no sooner had the king entered his roomthan a cold shiver seemed to pass through him, and on fouquet asking him the cause ofit, the king replied, as pale as death: "i am sleepy, that is all." "does your majesty wish for your attendantsat once?" "no; i have to talk with a few personsfirst," said the king.

"will you have the goodness to tell m.colbert i wish to see him." fouquet bowed and left the room. chapter xiv.a gascon, and a gascon and a half. d'artagnan had determined to lose no time,and in fact he never was in the habit of doing so. after having inquired for aramis, he hadlooked for him in every direction until he had succeeded in finding him. besides, no sooner had the king enteredvaux, than aramis had retired to his own room, meditating, doubtless, some new pieceof gallant attention for his majesty's

amusement. d'artagnan desired the servants to announcehim, and found on the second story (in a beautiful room called the blue chamber, onaccount of the color of its hangings) the bishop of vannes in company with porthosand several of the modern epicureans. aramis came forward to embrace his friend,and offered him the best seat. as it was after awhile generally remarkedamong those present that the musketeer was reserved, and wished for an opportunity forconversing secretly with aramis, the epicureans took their leave. porthos, however, did not stir; for true itis that, having dined exceedingly well, he

was fast asleep in his armchair; and thefreedom of conversation therefore was not interrupted by a third person. porthos had a deep, harmonious snore, andpeople might talk in the midst of its loud bass without fear of disturbing him.d'artagnan felt that he was called upon to open the conversation. "well, and so we have come to vaux," hesaid. "why, yes, d'artagnan.and how do you like the place?" "very much, and i like m. fouquet, also." "is he not a charming host?""no one could be more so."

"i am told that the king began by showinggreat distance of manner towards m. fouquet, but that his majesty grew muchmore cordial afterwards." "you did not notice it, then, since you sayyou have been told so?" "no; i was engaged with the gentlemen whohave just left the room about the theatrical performances and the tournamentswhich are to take place to-morrow." "ah, indeed! you are the comptroller-general of the fetes here, then?" "you know i am a friend of all kinds ofamusement where the exercise of the imagination is called into activity; i havealways been a poet in one way or another." "yes, i remember the verses you used towrite, they were charming."

"i have forgotten them, but i am delightedto read the verses of others, when those others are known by the names of moliere,pelisson, la fontaine, etc." "do you know what idea occurred to me thisevening, aramis?" "no; tell me what it was, for i shouldnever be able to guess it, you have so many." "well, the idea occurred to me, that thetrue king of france is not louis xiv." "what!" said aramis, involuntarily, lookingthe musketeer full in the eyes. "no, it is monsieur fouquet." aramis breathed again, and smiled."ah! you are like all the rest, jealous,"

he said."i would wager that it was m. colbert who turned that pretty phrase." d'artagnan, in order to throw aramis offhis guard, related colbert's misadventures with regard to the vin de melun."he comes of a mean race, does colbert," said aramis. "quite true." "when i think, too," added the bishop,"that that fellow will be your minister within four months, and that you will servehim as blindly as you did richelieu or mazarin--"

"and as you serve m. fouquet," saidd'artagnan. "with this difference, though, that m.fouquet is not m. colbert." "true, true," said d'artagnan, as hepretended to become sad and full of reflection; and then, a moment after, headded, "why do you tell me that m. colbert will be minister in four months?" "because m. fouquet will have ceased to beso," replied aramis. "he will be ruined, you mean?" saidd'artagnan. "completely so." "why does he give these fetes, then?" saidthe musketeer, in a tone so full of

thoughtful consideration, and so wellassumed, that the bishop was for the moment deceived by it. "why did you not dissuade him from it?"the latter part of the phrase was just a little too much, and aramis's formersuspicions were again aroused. "it is done with the object of humoring theking." "by ruining himself?""yes, by ruining himself for the king." "a most eccentric, one might say, sinistercalculation, that." "necessity, necessity, my friend.""i don't see that, dear aramis." "do you not?

have you not remarked m. colbert's dailyincreasing antagonism, and that he is doing his utmost to drive the king to get rid ofthe superintendent?" "one must be blind not to see it." "and that a cabal is already armed againstm. fouquet?" "that is well known." "what likelihood is there that the kingwould join a party formed against a man who will have spent everything he had to pleasehim?" "true, true," said d'artagnan, slowly,hardly convinced, yet curious to broach another phase of the conversation.

"there are follies, and follies," heresumed, "and i do not like those you are committing.""what do you allude to?" "as for the banquet, the ball, the concert,the theatricals, the tournaments, the cascades, the fireworks, the illuminations,and the presents--these are well and good, i grant; but why were not these expensessufficient? why was it necessary to have new liveriesand costumes for your whole household?" "you are quite right. i told m. fouquet that myself; he replied,that if he were rich enough he would offer the king a newly erected chateau, from thevanes at the houses to the very sub-

cellars; completely new inside and out; and that, as soon as the king had left, hewould burn the whole building and its contents, in order that it might not bemade use of by any one else." "how completely spanish!" "i told him so, and he then added this:'whoever advises me to spare expense, i shall look upon as my enemy.'""it is positive madness; and that portrait, too!" "what portrait?" said aramis."that of the king, and the surprise as well.""what surprise?"

"the surprise you seem to have in view, andon account of which you took some specimens away, when i met you at percerin's."d'artagnan paused. the shaft was discharged, and all he had todo was to wait and watch its effect. "that is merely an act of gracefulattention," replied aramis. d'artagnan went up to his friend, took holdof both his hands, and looking him full in the eyes, said, "aramis, do you still carefor me a very little?" "what a question to ask!" "very good.one favor, then. why did you take some patterns of theking's costumes at percerin's?"

"come with me and ask poor lebrun, who hasbeen working upon them for the last two days and nights.""aramis, that may be truth for everybody else, but for me--" "upon my word, d'artagnan, you astonishme." "be a little considerate. tell me the exact truth; you would not likeanything disagreeable to happen to me, would you?""my dear friend, you are becoming quite incomprehensible. what suspicion can you have possibly gothold of?"

"do you believe in my instinctive feelings?formerly you used to have faith in them. well, then, an instinct tells me that youhave some concealed project on foot." "i--a project?""i am convinced of it." "what nonsense!" "i am not only sure of it, but i would evenswear it." "indeed, d'artagnan, you cause me thegreatest pain. is it likely, if i have any project in handthat i ought to keep secret from you, i should tell you about it? if i had one that i could and ought to haverevealed, should i not have long ago

divulged it?""no, aramis, no. there are certain projects which are neverrevealed until the favorable opportunity arrives." "in that case, my dear fellow," returnedthe bishop, laughing, "the only thing now is, that the 'opportunity' has not yetarrived." d'artagnan shook his head with a sorrowfulexpression. "oh, friendship, friendship!" he said,"what an idle word you are! here is a man who, if i were but to ask it,would suffer himself to be cut in pieces for my sake.""you are right," said aramis, nobly.

"and this man, who would shed every drop ofblood in his veins for me, will not open up before me the least corner in his heart. friendship, i repeat, is nothing but anunsubstantial shadow--a lure, like everything else in this bright, dazzlingworld." "it is not thus you should speak of ourfriendship," replied the bishop, in a firm, assured voice; "for ours is not of the samenature as those of which you have been speaking." "look at us, aramis; three out of the old'four.' you are deceiving me; i suspect you; andporthos is fast asleep.

an admirable trio of friends, don't youthink so? what an affecting relic of the former dearold times!" "i can only tell you one thing, d'artagnan,and i swear it on the bible: i love you just as i used to do.if i ever suspect you, it is on account of others, and not on account of either of us. in everything i may do, and should happento succeed in, you will find your fourth. will you promise me the same favor?" "if i am not mistaken, aramis, your words--at the moment you pronounce them--are full of generous feeling.""such a thing is very possible."

"you are conspiring against m. colbert. if that be all, mordioux, tell me so atonce. i have the instrument in my own hand, andwill pull out the tooth easily enough." aramis could not conceal a smile of disdainthat flitted over his haughty features. "and supposing that i were conspiringagainst colbert, what harm would there be in that?" "no, no; that would be too trifling amatter for you to take in hand, and it was not on that account you asked percerin forthose patterns of the king's costumes. oh! aramis, we are not enemies, remember--we are brothers.

tell me what you wish to undertake, and,upon the word of a d'artagnan, if i cannot help you, i will swear to remain neuter." "i am undertaking nothing," said aramis."aramis, a voice within me speaks and seems to trickle forth a rill of light within mydarkness: it is a voice that has never yet deceived me. it is the king you are conspiring against.""the king?" exclaimed the bishop, pretending to be annoyed."your face will not convince me; the king, i repeat." "will you help me?" said aramis, smilingironically.

"aramis, i will do more than help you--iwill do more than remain neuter--i will save you." "you are mad, d'artagnan.""i am the wiser of the two, in this matter.""you to suspect me of wishing to assassinate the king!" "who spoke of such a thing?" smiled themusketeer. "well, let us understand one another. i do not see what any one can do to alegitimate king as ours is, if he does not assassinate him."d'artagnan did not say a word.

"besides, you have your guards and yourmusketeers here," said the bishop. "true.""you are not in m. fouquet's house, but in your own." "true; but in spite of that, aramis, grantme, for pity's sake, one single word of a true friend.""a true friend's word is ever truth itself. if i think of touching, even with myfinger, the son of anne of austria, the true king of this realm of france--if ihave not the firm intention of prostrating myself before his throne--if in every idea i may entertain to-morrow, here at vaux,will not be the most glorious day my king

ever enjoyed--may heaven's lightning blastme where i stand!" aramis had pronounced these words with hisface turned towards the alcove of his own bedroom, where d'artagnan, seated with hisback towards the alcove, could not suspect that any one was lying concealed. the earnestness of his words, the studiedslowness with which he pronounced them, the solemnity of his oath, gave the musketeerthe most complete satisfaction. he took hold of both aramis's hands, andshook them cordially. aramis had endured reproaches withoutturning pale, and had blushed as he listened to words of praise.

d'artagnan, deceived, did him honor; butd'artagnan, trustful and reliant, made him feel ashamed. "are you going away?" he said, as heembraced him, in order to conceal the flush on his face."yes. duty summons me. i have to get the watch-word. it seems i am to be lodged in the king'sante-room. where does porthos sleep?" "take him away with you, if you like, forhe rumbles through his sleepy nose like a park of artillery.""ah! he does not stay with you, then?" said

"not the least in the world.he has a chamber to himself, but i don't know where." "very good!" said the musketeer; from whomthis separation of the two associates removed his last suspicion, and he touchedporthos lightly on the shoulder; the latter replied by a loud yawn. "come," said d'artagnan."what, d'artagnan, my dear fellow, is that you?what a lucky chance! oh, yes--true; i have forgotten; i am atthe fete at vaux." "yes; and your beautiful dress, too.""yes, it was very attentive on the part of

monsieur coquelin de voliere, was it not?" "hush!" said aramis."you are walking so heavily you will make the flooring give way.""true," said the musketeer; "this room is above the dome, i think." "and i did not choose it for a fencing-room, i assure you," added the bishop. "the ceiling of the king's room has all thelightness and calm of wholesome sleep. do not forget, therefore, that my flooringis merely the covering of his ceiling. good night, my friends, and in ten minutesi shall be asleep myself." and aramis accompanied them to the door,laughing quietly all the while.

as soon as they were outside, he bolted thedoor, hurriedly; closed up the chinks of the windows, and then called out,"monseigneur!--monseigneur!" philippe made his appearance from thealcove, as he pushed aside a sliding panel placed behind the bed."m. d'artagnan entertains a great many suspicions, it seems," he said. "ah!--you recognized m. d'artagnan, then?""before you called him by his name, even." "he is your captain of musketeers." "he is very devoted to me," repliedphilippe, laying a stress upon the personal pronoun."as faithful as a dog; but he bites

sometimes. if d'artagnan does not recognize you beforethe other has disappeared, rely upon d'artagnan to the end of the world; for inthat case, if he has seen nothing, he will keep his fidelity. if he sees, when it is too late, he is agascon, and will never admit that he has been deceived.""i thought so. what are we to do, now?" "sit in this folding-chair. i am going to push aside a portion of theflooring; you will look through the

opening, which answers to one of the falsewindows made in the dome of the king's apartment. can you see?""yes," said philippe, starting as at the sight of an enemy; "i see the king!""what is he doing?" "he seems to wish some man to sit downclose to him." "m. fouquet?""no, no; wait a moment--" "look at the notes and the portraits, myprince." "the man whom the king wishes to sit downin his presence is m. colbert." "colbert sit down in the king's presence!"exclaimed aramis.

"it is impossible.""look." aramis looked through the opening in theflooring. "yes," he said."colbert himself. oh, monseigneur! what can we be going tohear--and what can result from this intimacy?""nothing good for m. fouquet, at all events." the prince did not deceive himself.we have seen that louis xiv. had sent for colbert, and colbert had arrived. the conversation began between them by theking according to him one of the highest

favors that he had ever done; it was truethe king was alone with his subject. "colbert," said he, "sit down." the intendant, overcome with delight, forhe feared he was about to be dismissed, refused this unprecedented honor."does he accept?" said aramis. "no, he remains standing." "let us listen, then."and the future king and the future pope listened eagerly to the simple mortals theyheld under their feet, ready to crush them when they liked. "colbert," said the king, "you have annoyedme exceedingly to-day."

"i know it, sire.""very good; i like that answer. yes, you knew it, and there was courage inthe doing of it." "i ran the risk of displeasing yourmajesty, but i risked, also, the concealment of your best interests." "what! you were afraid of something on myaccount?" "i was, sire, even if it were nothing morethan an indigestion," said colbert; "for people do not give their sovereigns suchbanquets as the one of to-day, unless it be to stifle them beneath the burden of goodliving." colbert awaited the effect this coarse jestwould produce upon the king; and louis

xiv., who was the vainest and the mostfastidiously delicate man in his kingdom, forgave colbert the joke. "the truth is," he said, "that m. fouquethas given me too good a meal. tell me, colbert, where does he get all themoney required for this enormous expenditure,--can you tell?" "yes, i do know, sire.""will you be able to prove it with tolerable certainty?""easily; and to the utmost farthing." "i know you are very exact." "exactitude is the principal qualificationrequired in an intendant of finances."

"but all are not so.""i thank you majesty for so flattering a compliment from your own lips." "m. fouquet, therefore, is rich--very rich,and i suppose every man knows he is so." "every one, sire; the living as well as thedead." "what does that mean, monsieur colbert?" "the living are witnesses of m. fouquet'swealth,--they admire and applaud the result produced; but the dead, wiser and betterinformed than we are, know how that wealth was obtained--and they rise up inaccusation." "so that m. fouquet owes his wealth to somecause or other."

"the occupation of an intendant very oftenfavors those who practice it." "you have something to say to me moreconfidentially, i perceive; do not be afraid, we are quite alone." "i am never afraid of anything under theshelter of my own conscience, and under the protection of your majesty," said colbert,bowing. "if the dead, therefore, were to speak--" "they do speak sometimes, sire,--read." "ah!" murmured aramis, in the prince's ear,who, close beside him, listened without losing a syllable, "since you are placedhere, monseigneur, in order to learn your

vocation of a king, listen to a piece ofinfamy--of a nature truly royal. you are about to be a witness of one ofthose scenes which the foul fiend alone conceives and executes. listen attentively,--you will find youradvantage in it." the prince redoubled his attention, and sawlouis xiv. take from colbert's hands a letter the latter held out to him. "the late cardinal's handwriting," said theking. "your majesty has an excellent memory,"replied colbert, bowing; "it is an immense advantage for a king who is destined forhard work to recognize handwritings at the

first glance." the king read mazarin's letter, and, as itscontents are already known to the reader, in consequence of the misunderstandingbetween madame de chevreuse and aramis, nothing further would be learned if westated them here again. "i do not quite understand," said the king,greatly interested. "your majesty has not acquired theutilitarian habit of checking the public accounts.""i see that it refers to money that had been given to m. fouquet." "thirteen millions.a tolerably good sum."

"yes. well, these thirteen millions arewanting to balance the total of the account. that is what i do not very well understand.how was this deficit possible?" "possible i do not say; but there is nodoubt about fact that it is really so." "you say that these thirteen millions arefound to be wanting in the accounts?" "i do not say so, but the registry does." "and this letter of m. mazarin indicatesthe employment of that sum and the name of the person with whom it was deposited?""as your majesty can judge for yourself." "yes; and the result is, then, that m.fouquet has not yet restored the thirteen

millions.""that results from the accounts, certainly, sire." "well, and, consequently--" "well, sire, in that case, inasmuch as m.fouquet has not yet given back the thirteen millions, he must have appropriated them tohis own purpose; and with those thirteen millions one could incur four times and a little more as much expense, and make fourtimes as great a display, as your majesty was able to do at fontainebleau, where weonly spent three millions altogether, if you remember."

for a blunderer, the souvenir he had evokedwas a rather skillfully contrived piece of baseness; for by the remembrance of his ownfete he, for the first time, perceived its inferiority compared with that of fouquet. colbert received back again at vaux whatfouquet had given him at fontainebleau, and, as a good financier, returned it withthe best possible interest. having once disposed the king's mind inthis artful way, colbert had nothing of much importance to detain him. he felt that such was the case, for theking, too, had again sunk into a dull and gloomy state.

colbert awaited the first words from theking's lips with as much impatience as philippe and aramis did from their place ofobservation. "are you aware what is the usual andnatural consequence of all this, monsieur colbert?" said the king, after a fewmoments' reflection. "no, sire, i do not know." "well, then, the fact of the appropriationof the thirteen millions, if it can be proved--""but it is so already." "i mean if it were to be declared andcertified, m. colbert." "i think it will be to-morrow, if yourmajesty--"

"were we not under m. fouquet's roof, youwere going to say, perhaps," replied the king, with something of nobility in hisdemeanor. "the king is in his own palace wherever hemay be--especially in houses which the royal money has constructed." "i think," said philippe in a low tone toaramis, "that the architect who planned this dome ought, anticipating the use itcould be put to at a future opportunity, so to have contrived that it might be made to fall upon the heads of scoundrels such asm. colbert." "i think so too," replied aramis; "but m.colbert is so very near the king at this

moment." "that is true, and that would open thesuccession." "of which your younger brother would reapall the advantage, monseigneur. but stay, let us keep quiet, and go onlistening." "we shall not have long to listen," saidthe young prince. "why not, monseigneur?" "because, if i were king, i should make nofurther reply." "and what would you do?""i should wait until to-morrow morning to give myself time for reflection."

louis xiv. at last raised his eyes, andfinding colbert attentively waiting for his next remarks, said, hastily, changing theconversation, "m. colbert, i perceive it is getting very late, and i shall now retireto bed. by to-morrow morning i shall have made upmy mind." "very good, sire," returned colbert,greatly incensed, although he restrained himself in the presence of the king.the king made a gesture of adieu, and colbert withdrew with a respectful bow. "my attendants!" cried the king; and, asthey entered the apartment, philippe was about to quit his post of observation.

"a moment longer," said aramis to him, withhis accustomed gentleness of manner; "what has just now taken place is only a detail,and to-morrow we shall have no occasion to think anything more about it; but the ceremony of the king's retiring to rest,the etiquette observed in addressing the king, that indeed is of the greatestimportance. learn, sire, and study well how you oughtto go to bed of a night. look! look!" chapter xv.colbert. history will tell us, or rather history hastold us, of the various events of the

following day, of the splendid fetes givenby the surintendant to his sovereign. nothing but amusement and delight wasallowed to prevail throughout the whole of the following day; there was a promenade, abanquet, a comedy to be acted, and a comedy, too, in which, to his great amazement, porthos recognized "m. coquelinde voliere" as one of the actors, in the piece called "les facheux." full of preoccupation, however, from thescene of the previous evening, and hardly recovered from the effects of the poisonwhich colbert had then administered to him, the king, during the whole of the day, so

brilliant in its effects, so full ofunexpected and startling novelties, in which all the wonders of the "arabiannight's entertainments" seemed to be reproduced for his especial amusement--the king, we say, showed himself cold,reserved, and taciturn. nothing could smooth the frowns upon hisface; every one who observed him noticed that a deep feeling of resentment, ofremote origin, increased by slow degrees, as the source becomes a river, thanks to the thousand threads of water that increaseits body, was keenly alive in the depths of the king's heart.

towards the middle of the day only did hebegin to resume a little serenity of manner, and by that time he had, in allprobability, made up his mind. aramis, who followed him step by step inhis thoughts, as in his walk, concluded that the event he was expecting would notbe long before it was announced. this time colbert seemed to walk in concertwith the bishop of vannes, and had he received for every annoyance which heinflicted on the king a word of direction from aramis, he could not have done better. during the whole of the day the king, who,in all probability, wished to free himself from some of the thoughts which disturbedhis mind, seemed to seek la valliere's

society as actively as he seemed to show his anxiety to flee that of m. colbert orm. fouquet. the evening came. the king had expressed a wish not to walkin the park until after cards in the evening.in the interval between supper and the promenade, cards and dice were introduced. the king won a thousand pistoles, and,having won them, put them in his pocket, and then rose, saying, "and now, gentlemen,to the park." he found the ladies of the court werealready there.

the king, we have before observed, had wona thousand pistoles, and had put them in his pocket; but m. fouquet had somehowcontrived to lose ten thousand, so that among the courtiers there was still left a hundred and ninety thousand francs' profitto divide, a circumstance which made the countenances of the courtiers and theofficers of the king's household the most joyous countenances in the world. it was not the same, however, with theking's face; for, notwithstanding his success at play, to which he was by nomeans insensible, there still remained a slight shade of dissatisfaction.

colbert was waiting for or upon him at thecorner of one of the avenues; he was most probably waiting there in consequence of arendezvous which had been given him by the king, as louis xiv., who had avoided him, or who had seemed to avoid him, suddenlymade him a sign, and they then struck into the depths of the park together. but la valliere, too, had observed theking's gloomy aspect and kindling glances; she had remarked this--and as nothing whichlay hidden or smoldering in his heart was hidden from the gaze of her affection, she understood that this repressed wrathmenaced some one; she prepared to withstand

the current of his vengeance, and intercedelike an angel of mercy. overcome by sadness, nervously agitated,deeply distressed at having been so long separated from her lover, disturbed at thesight of the emotion she had divined, she accordingly presented herself to the king with an embarrassed aspect, which in histhen disposition of mind the king interpreted unfavorably. then, as they were alone--nearly alone,inasmuch as colbert, as soon as he perceived the young girl approaching, hadstopped and drawn back a dozen paces--the king advanced towards la valliere and tookher by the hand.

"mademoiselle," he said to her, "should ibe guilty of an indiscretion if i were to inquire if you were indisposed? for youseem to breathe as if you were oppressed by some secret cause of uneasiness, and youreyes are filled with tears." "oh! sire, if i be indeed so, and if myeyes are indeed full of tears, i am sorrowful only at the sadness which seemsto oppress your majesty." "my sadness? you are mistaken, mademoiselle; no, it isnot sadness i experience." "what is it, then, sire?""humiliation." "humiliation? oh! sire, what a word for youto use!"

"i mean, mademoiselle, that wherever i mayhappen to be, no one else ought to be the master. well, then, look round you on every side,and judge whether i am not eclipsed--i, the king of france--before the monarch of thesewide domains. oh!" he continued, clenching his hands andteeth, "when i think that this king--" "well, sire?" said louise, terrified. "--that this king is a faithless, unworthyservant, who grows proud and self- sufficient upon the strength of propertythat belongs to me, and which he has stolen.

and therefore i am about to change thisimpudent minister's fete into sorrow and mourning, of which the nymph of vaux, asthe poets say, shall not soon lose the remembrance." "oh! your majesty--""well, mademoiselle, are you about to take m. fouquet's part?" said louis,impatiently. "no, sire; i will only ask whether you arewell informed. your majesty has more than once learned thevalue of accusations made at court." louis xiv. made a sign for colbert toapproach. "speak, monsieur colbert," said the youngprince, "for i almost believe that

mademoiselle de la valliere has need ofyour assistance before she can put any faith in the king's word. tell mademoiselle what m. fouquet has done;and you, mademoiselle, will perhaps have the kindness to listen.it will not be long." why did louis xiv. insist upon it in such amanner? a very simple reason--his heart was not atrest, his mind was not thoroughly convinced; he imagined there lay some dark,hidden, tortuous intrigue behind these thirteen millions of francs; and he wished that the pure heart of la valliere, whichhad revolted at the idea of theft or

robbery, should approve--even were it onlyby a single word--the resolution he had taken, and which, nevertheless, hehesitated before carrying into execution. "speak, monsieur," said la valliere tocolbert, who had advanced; "speak, since the king wishes me to listen to you. tell me, what is the crime with which m.fouquet is charged?" "oh! not very heinous, mademoiselle," hereturned, "a mere abuse of confidence." "speak, speak, colbert; and when you haverelated it, leave us, and go and inform m. d'artagnan that i have certain orders togive him." "m. d'artagnan, sire!" exclaimed lavalliere; "but why send for m. d'artagnan?

i entreat you to tell me." "pardieu! in order to arrest this haughty,arrogant titan who, true to his menace, threatens to scale my heaven.""arrest m. fouquet, do you say?" "ah! does that surprise you?" "in his own house!""why not? if he be guilty, he is as guilty in his ownhouse as anywhere else." "m. fouquet, who at this moment is ruininghimself for his sovereign." "in plain truth, mademoiselle, it seems asif you were defending this traitor." colbert began to chuckle silently.

the king turned round at the sound of thissuppressed mirth. "sire," said la valliere, "it is not m.fouquet i am defending; it is yourself." "me! you are defending me?" "sire, you would dishonor yourself if youwere to give such an order." "dishonor myself!" murmured the king,turning pale with anger. "in plain truth, mademoiselle, you show astrange persistence in what you say." "if i do, sire, my only motive is that ofserving your majesty," replied the noble- hearted girl: "for that i would risk, iwould sacrifice my very life, without the least reserve."

colbert seemed inclined to grumble andcomplain. la valliere, that timid, gentle lamb,turned round upon him, and with a glance like lightning imposed silence upon him. "monsieur," she said, "when the king actswell, whether, in doing so, he does either myself or those who belong to me an injury,i have nothing to say; but were the king to confer a benefit either upon me or mine, and if he acted badly, i should tell himso." "but it appears to me, mademoiselle,"colbert ventured to say, "that i too love the king."

"yes, monseigneur, we both love him, buteach in a different manner," replied la valliere, with such an accent that theheart of the young king was powerfully affected by it. "i love him so deeply, that the whole worldis aware of it; so purely, that the king himself does not doubt my affection.he is my king and my master; i am the least of all his servants. but whoso touches his honor assails mylife. therefore, i repeat, that they dishonor theking who advise him to arrest m. fouquet under his own roof."

colbert hung down his head, for he feltthat the king had abandoned him. however, as he bent his head, he murmured,"mademoiselle, i have only one word to say." "do not say it, then, monsieur; for i wouldnot listen to it. besides, what could you have to tell me?that m. fouquet has been guilty of certain crimes? i believe he has, because the king has saidso; and, from the moment the king said, 'i think so,' i have no occasion for otherlips to say, 'i affirm it.' but, were m. fouquet the vilest of men, ishould say aloud, 'm. fouquet's person is

sacred to the king because he is the guestof m. fouquet. were his house a den of thieves, were vauxa cave of coiners or robbers, his home is sacred, his palace is inviolable, since hiswife is living in it; and that is an asylum which even executioners would not dare toviolate.'" la valliere paused, and was silent. in spite of himself the king could not butadmire her; he was overpowered by the passionate energy of her voice; by thenobleness of the cause she advocated. colbert yielded, overcome by the inequalityof the struggle. at last the king breathed again morefreely, shook his head, and held out his

hand to la valliere. "mademoiselle," he said, gently, "why doyou decide against me? do you know what this wretched fellow willdo, if i give him time to breathe again?" "is he not a prey which will always bewithin your grasp?" "should he escape, and take to flight?"exclaimed colbert. "well, monsieur, it will always remain onrecord, to the king's eternal honor, that he allowed m. fouquet to flee; and the moreguilty he may have been, the greater will the king's honor and glory appear, comparedwith such unnecessary misery and shame." louis kissed la valliere's hand, as heknelt before her.

"i am lost," thought colbert; then suddenlyhis face brightened up again. "oh! no, no, aha, old fox!--not yet," hesaid to himself. and while the king, protected fromobservation by the thick covert of an enormous lime, pressed la valliere to hisbreast, with all the ardor of ineffable affection, colbert tranquilly fumbled among the papers in his pocket-book and drew outof it a paper folded in the form of a letter, somewhat yellow, perhaps, but onethat must have been most precious, since the intendant smiled as he looked at it; he then bent a look, full of hatred, upon thecharming group which the young girl and the

king formed together--a group revealed butfor a moment, as the light of the approaching torches shone upon it. louis noticed the light reflected upon lavalliere's white dress. "leave me, louise," he said, "for some oneis coming." "mademoiselle, mademoiselle, some one iscoming," cried colbert, to expedite the young girl's departure. louise disappeared rapidly among the trees;and then, as the king, who had been on his knees before the young girl, was risingfrom his humble posture, colbert exclaimed, "ah! mademoiselle de la valliere has letsomething fall."

"what is it?" inquired the king."a paper--a letter--something white; look there, sire." the king stooped down immediately andpicked up the letter, crumpling it in his hand, as he did so; and at the same momentthe torches arrived, inundating the blackness of the scene with a flood oflight as bight as day. chapter xvi.jealousy. the torches we have just referred to, theeager attention every one displayed, and the new ovation paid to the king byfouquet, arrived in time to suspend the effect of a resolution which la valliere

had already considerably shaken in louisxiv.'s heart. he looked at fouquet with a feeling almostof gratitude for having given la valliere an opportunity of showing herself sogenerously disposed, so powerful in the influence she exercised over his heart. the moment of the last and greatest displayhad arrived. hardly had fouquet conducted the kingtowards the chateau, when a mass of fire burst from the dome of vaux, with aprodigious uproar, pouring a flood of dazzling cataracts of rays on every side, and illumining the remotest corners of thegardens.

the fireworks began. colbert, at twenty paces from the king, whowas surrounded and feted by the owner of vaux, seemed, by the obstinate persistenceof his gloomy thoughts, to do his utmost to recall louis's attention, which the magnificence of the spectacle was already,in his opinion, too easily diverting. suddenly, just as louis was on the point ofholding it out to fouquet, he perceived in his hand the paper which, as he believed,la valliere had dropped at his feet as she hurried away. the still stronger magnet of love drew theyoung prince's attention towards the

souvenir of his idol; and, by the brilliantlight, which increased momentarily in beauty, and drew from the neighboring villages loud cheers of admiration, theking read the letter, which he supposed was a loving and tender epistle la valliere haddestined for him. but as he read it, a death-like pallorstole over his face, and an expression of deep-seated wrath, illumined by the many-colored fire which gleamed so brightly, soaringly around the scene, produced a terrible spectacle, which every one wouldhave shuddered at, could they only have read into his heart, now torn by the moststormy and most bitter passions.

there was no truce for him now, influencedas he was by jealousy and mad passion. from the very moment when the dark truthwas revealed to him, every gentler feeling seemed to disappear; pity, kindness ofconsideration, the religion of hospitality, all were forgotten. in the bitter pang which wrung his heart,he, still too weak to hide his sufferings, was almost on the point of uttering a cryof alarm, and calling his guards to gather round him. this letter which colbert had thrown downat the king's feet, the reader has doubtlessly guessed, was the same that haddisappeared with the porter toby at

fontainebleau, after the attempt whichfouquet had made upon la valliere's heart. fouquet saw the king's pallor, and was farfrom guessing the evil; colbert saw the king's anger, and rejoiced inwardly at theapproach of the storm. fouquet's voice drew the young prince fromhis wrathful reverie. "what is the matter, sire?" inquired thesuperintendent, with an expression of graceful interest. louis made a violent effort over himself,as he replied, "nothing." "i am afraid your majesty is suffering?""i am suffering, and have already told you so, monsieur; but it is nothing."

and the king, without waiting for thetermination of the fireworks, turned towards the chateau. fouquet accompanied him, and the wholecourt followed, leaving the remains of the fireworks consuming for their ownamusement. the superintendent endeavored again toquestion louis xiv., but did not succeed in obtaining a reply. he imagined there had been somemisunderstanding between louis and la valliere in the park, which had resulted ina slight quarrel; and that the king, who was not ordinarily sulky by disposition,

but completely absorbed by his passion forla valliere, had taken a dislike to every one because his mistress had shown herselfoffended with him. this idea was sufficient to console him; hehad even a friendly and kindly smile for the young king, when the latter wished himgood night. this, however, was not all the king had tosubmit to; he was obliged to undergo the usual ceremony, which on that evening wasmarked by close adherence to the strictest etiquette. the next day was the one fixed for thedeparture; it was but proper that the guests should thank their host, and showhim a little attention in return for the

expenditure of his twelve millions. the only remark, approaching to amiability,which the king could find to say to m. fouquet, as he took leave of him, were inthese words, "m. fouquet, you shall hear from me. be good enough to desire m. d'artagnan tocome here." but the blood of louis xiv., who had soprofoundly dissimulated his feelings, boiled in his veins; and he was perfectlywilling to order m. fouquet to be put an end to with the same readiness, indeed, as his predecessor had caused theassassination of le marechal d'ancre; and

so he disguised the terrible resolution hehad formed beneath one of those royal smiles which, like lightning-flashes,indicated coups d'etat. fouquet took the king's hand and kissed it;louis shuddered throughout his whole frame, but allowed m. fouquet to touch his handwith his lips. five minutes afterwards, d'artagnan, towhom the royal order had been communicated, entered louis xiv.'s apartment. aramis and philippe were in theirs, stilleagerly attentive, and still listening with all their ears. the king did not even give the captain ofthe musketeers time to approach his

armchair, but ran forward to meet him."take care," he exclaimed, "that no one enters here." "very good, sire," replied the captain,whose glance had for a long time past analyzed the stormy indications on theroyal countenance. he gave the necessary order at the door;but, returning to the king, he said, "is there something fresh the matter, yourmajesty?" "how many men have you here?" inquired theking, without making any other reply to the question addressed to him."what for, sire?" "how many men have you, i say?" repeatedthe king, stamping upon the ground with his

foot."i have the musketeers." "well; and what others?" "twenty guards and thirteen swiss.""how many men will be required to--" "to do what, sire?" replied the musketeer,opening his large, calm eyes. "to arrest m. fouquet." d'artagnan fell back a step."to arrest m. fouquet!" he burst forth. "are you going to tell me that it isimpossible?" exclaimed the king, in tones of cold, vindictive passion. "i never say that anything is impossible,"replied d'artagnan, wounded to the quick.

"very well; do it, then." d'artagnan turned on his heel, and made hisway towards the door; it was but a short distance, and he cleared it in half a dozenpaces; when he reached it he suddenly paused, and said, "your majesty will forgive me, but, in order to effect thisarrest, i should like written directions." "for what purpose--and since when has theking's word been insufficient for you?" "because the word of a king, when itsprings from a feeling of anger, may possibly change when the feeling changes.""a truce to set phrases, monsieur; you have another thought besides that?"

"oh, i, at least, have certain thoughts andideas, which, unfortunately, others have not," d'artagnan replied, impertinently. the king, in the tempest of his wrath,hesitated, and drew back in the face of d'artagnan's frank courage, just as a horsecrouches on his haunches under the strong hand of a bold and experienced rider. "what is your thought?" he exclaimed."this, sire," replied d'artagnan: "you cause a man to be arrested when you arestill under his roof; and passion is alone the cause of that. when your anger shall have passed, you willregret what you have done; and then i wish

to be in a position to show you yoursignature. if that, however, should fail to be areparation, it will at least show us that the king was wrong to lose his temper.""wrong to lose his temper!" cried the king, in a loud, passionate voice. "did not my father, my grandfathers, too,before me, lose their temper at times, in heaven's name?" "the king your father and the king yourgrandfather never lost their temper except when under the protection of their ownpalace." "the king is master wherever he may be."

"that is a flattering, complimentary phrasewhich cannot proceed from any one but m. colbert; but it happens not to be thetruth. the king is at home in every man's housewhen he has driven its owner out of it." the king bit his lips, but said nothing. "can it be possible?" said d'artagnan;"here is a man who is positively ruining himself in order to please you, and youwish to have him arrested! sire, if my name was fouquet, and peopletreated me in that manner, i would swallow at a single gulp all sorts of fireworks andother things, and i would set fire to them, and send myself and everybody else inblown-up atoms to the sky.

but it is all the same; it is your wish,and it shall be done." "go," said the king; "but have you menenough?" "do you suppose i am going to take a wholehost to help me? arrest m. fouquet! why, that is so easythat a very child might do it! it is like drinking a glass of wormwood;one makes an ugly face, and that is all." "if he defends himself?" "he! it is not at all likely.defend himself when such extreme harshness as you are going to practice makes the mana very martyr! nay, i am sure that if he has a million offrancs left, which i very much doubt, he

would be willing enough to give it in orderto have such a termination as this. but what does that matter? it shall be doneat once." "stay," said the king; "do not make hisarrest a public affair." "that will be more difficult." "why so?""because nothing is easier than to go up to m. fouquet in the midst of a thousandenthusiastic guests who surround him, and say, 'in the king's name, i arrest you.' but to go up to him, to turn him first oneway and then another, to drive him up into one of the corners of the chess-board, insuch a way that he cannot escape; to take

him away from his guests, and keep him a prisoner for you, without one of them,alas! having heard anything about it; that, indeed, is a genuine difficulty, thegreatest of all, in truth; and i hardly see how it is to be done." "you had better say it is impossible, andyou will have finished much sooner. heaven help me, but i seem to be surroundedby people who prevent me doing what i wish." "i do not prevent your doing anything.have you indeed decided?" "take care of m. fouquet, until i shallhave made up my mind by to-morrow morning."

"that shall be done, sire." "and return, when i rise in the morning,for further orders; and now leave me to myself." "you do not even want m. colbert, then?"said the musketeer, firing his last shot as he was leaving the room.the king started. with his whole mind fixed on the thought ofrevenge, he had forgotten the cause and substance of the offense."no, no one," he said; "no one here! leave me." d'artagnan quitted the room.

the king closed the door with his ownhands, and began to walk up and down his apartment at a furious pace, like a woundedbull in an arena, trailing from his horn the colored streamers and the iron darts. at last he began to take comfort in theexpression of his violent feelings. "miserable wretch that he is! not only doeshe squander my finances, but with his ill- gotten plunder he corrupts secretaries,friends, generals, artists, and all, and tries to rob me of the one to whom i ammost attached. this is the reason that perfidious girl soboldly took his part! gratitude! and who can tell whether it wasnot a stronger feeling--love itself?"

he gave himself up for a moment to thebitterest reflections. "a satyr!" he thought, with that abhorrenthate with which young men regard those more advanced in life, who still think of love. "a man who has never found opposition orresistance in any one, who lavishes his gold and jewels in every direction, and whoretains his staff of painters in order to take the portraits of his mistresses in thecostume of goddesses." the king trembled with passion as hecontinued, "he pollutes and profanes everything that belongs to me! he destroys everything that is mine.he will be my death at last, i know.

that man is too much for me; he is mymortal enemy, but he shall forthwith fall! i hate him--i hate him--i hate him!" and ashe pronounced these words, he struck the arm of the chair in which he was sittingviolently, over and over again, and then rose like one in an epileptic fit. "to-morrow! to-morrow! oh, happy day!" hemurmured, "when the sun rises, no other rival shall that brilliant king of spacepossess but me. that man shall fall so low that when peoplelook at the abject ruin my anger shall have wrought, they will be forced to confess atlast and at least that i am indeed greater than he."

the king, who was incapable of masteringhis emotions any longer, knocked over with a blow of his fist a small table placedclose to his bedside, and in the very bitterness of anger, almost weeping, and half-suffocated, he threw himself on hisbed, dressed as he was, and bit the sheets in his extremity of passion, trying to findrepose of body at least there. the bed creaked beneath his weight, andwith the exception of a few broken sounds, emerging, or, one might say, exploding,from his overburdened chest, absolute silence soon reigned in the chamber ofmorpheus. chapter xvii.high treason.

the ungovernable fury which took possessionof the king at the sight and at the perusal of fouquet's letter to la valliere bydegrees subsided into a feeling of pain and extreme weariness. youth, invigorated by health and lightnessof spirits, requiring soon that what it loses should be immediately restored--youthknows not those endless, sleepless nights which enable us to realize the fable of the vulture unceasingly feeding on prometheus. in cases where the man of middle life, inhis acquired strength of will and purpose, and the old, in their state of naturalexhaustion, find incessant augmentation of

their bitter sorrow, a young man, surprised by the sudden appearance of misfortune,weakens himself in sighs, and groans, and tears, directly struggling with his grief,and is thereby far sooner overthrown by the inflexible enemy with whom he is engaged. once overthrown, his struggles cease. louis could not hold out more than a fewminutes, at the end of which he had ceased to clench his hands, and scorch in fancywith his looks the invisible objects of his hatred; he soon ceased to attack with his violent imprecations not m. fouquet alone,but even la valliere herself; from fury he

subsided into despair, and from despair toprostration. after he had thrown himself for a fewminutes to and fro convulsively on his bed, his nerveless arms fell quietly down; hishead lay languidly on his pillow; his limbs, exhausted with excessive emotion, still trembled occasionally, agitated bymuscular contractions; while from his breast faint and infrequent sighs stillissued. morpheus, the tutelary deity of theapartment, towards whom louis raised his eyes, wearied by his anger and reconciledby his tears, showered down upon him the sleep-inducing poppies with which his hands

are ever filled; so presently the monarchclosed his eyes and fell asleep. then it seemed to him, as it often happensin that first sleep, so light and gentle, which raises the body above the couch, andthe soul above the earth--it seemed to him, we say, as if the god morpheus, painted on the ceiling, looked at him with eyesresembling human eyes; that something shone brightly, and moved to and fro in the domeabove the sleeper; that the crowd of terrible dreams which thronged together in his brain, and which were interrupted for amoment, half revealed a human face, with a hand resting against the mouth, and in anattitude of deep and absorbed meditation.

and strange enough, too, this man bore sowonderful a resemblance to the king himself, that louis fancied he was lookingat his own face reflected in a mirror; with the exception, however, that the face was saddened by a feeling of the profoundestpity. then it seemed to him as if the domegradually retired, escaping from his gaze, and that the figures and attributes paintedby lebrun became darker and darker as the distance became more and more remote. a gentle, easy movement, as regular as thatby which a vessel plunges beneath the waves, had succeeded to the immovablenessof the bed.

doubtless the king was dreaming, and inthis dream the crown of gold, which fastened the curtains together, seemed torecede from his vision, just as the dome, to which it remained suspended, had done, so that the winged genius which, with bothits hand, supported the crown, seemed, though vainly so, to call upon the king,who was fast disappearing from it. the bed still sunk. louis, with his eyes open, could not resistthe deception of this cruel hallucination. at last, as the light of the royal chamberfaded away into darkness and gloom, something cold, gloomy, and inexplicable inits nature seemed to infect the air.

no paintings, nor gold, nor velvethangings, were visible any longer, nothing but walls of a dull gray color, which theincreasing gloom made darker every moment. and yet the bed still continued to descend,and after a minute, which seemed in its duration almost an age to the king, itreached a stratum of air, black and chill as death, and then it stopped. the king could no longer see the light inhis room, except as from the bottom of a well we can see the light of day."i am under the influence of some atrocious dream," he thought. "it is time to awaken from it.come! let me wake."

every one has experienced the sensation theabove remark conveys; there is hardly a person who, in the midst of a nightmarewhose influence is suffocating, has not said to himself, by the help of that light which still burns in the brain when everyhuman light is extinguished, "it is nothing but a dream, after all." this was precisely what louis xiv. said tohimself; but when he said, "come, come! wake up," he perceived that not only was healready awake, but still more, that he had his eyes open also. and then he looked all round him.

on his right hand and on his left two armedmen stood in stolid silence, each wrapped in a huge cloak, and the face covered witha mask; one of them held a small lamp in his hand, whose glimmering light revealed the saddest picture a king could look upon. louis could not help saying to himself thathis dream still lasted, and that all he had to do to cause it to disappear was to movehis arms or to say something aloud; he darted from his bed, and found himself uponthe damp, moist ground. then, addressing himself to the man whoheld the lamp in his hand, he said: "what is this, monsieur, and what is themeaning of this jest?"

"it is no jest," replied in a deep voicethe masked figure that held the lantern. "do you belong to m. fouquet?" inquired theking, greatly astonished at his situation. "it matters very little to whom we belong,"said the phantom; "we are your masters now, that is sufficient." the king, more impatient than intimidated,turned to the other masked figure. "if this is a comedy," he said, "you willtell m. fouquet that i find it unseemly and improper, and that i command it shouldcease." the second masked person to whom the kinghad addressed himself was a man of huge stature and vast circumference.he held himself erect and motionless as any

block of marble. "well!" added the king, stamping his foot,"you do not answer!" "we do not answer you, my good monsieur,"said the giant, in a stentorian voice, "because there is nothing to say." "at least, tell me what you want,"exclaimed louis, folding his arms with a passionate gesture."you will know by and by," replied the man who held the lamp. "in the meantime tell me where i am.""look." louis looked all round him; but by thelight of the lamp which the masked figure

raised for the purpose, he could perceivenothing but the damp walls which glistened here and there with the slimy traces of thesnail. "oh--oh!--a dungeon," cried the king."no, a subterranean passage." "which leads--?" "will you be good enough to follow us?""i shall not stir from hence!" cried the king. "if you are obstinate, my dear youngfriend," replied the taller of the two, "i will lift you up in my arms, and roll youup in your own cloak, and if you should happen to be stifled, why--so much theworse for you."

as he said this, he disengaged from beneathhis cloak a hand of which milo of crotona would have envied him the possession, onthe day when he had that unhappy idea of rending his last oak. the king dreaded violence, for he couldwell believe that the two men into whose power he had fallen had not gone so farwith any idea of drawing back, and that they would consequently be ready to proceedto extremities, if necessary. he shook his head and said: "it seems ihave fallen into the hands of a couple of assassins. move on, then."neither of the men answered a word to this

remark. the one who carried the lantern walkedfirst, the king followed him, while the second masked figure closed the procession. in this manner they passed along a windinggallery of some length, with as many staircases leading out of it as are to befound in the mysterious and gloomy palaces of ann radcliffe's creation. all these windings and turnings, duringwhich the king heard the sound of running water over his head, ended at last in along corridor closed by an iron door. the figure with the lamp opened the doorwith one of the keys he wore suspended at

his girdle, where, during the whole of thebrief journey, the king had heard them rattle. as soon as the door was opened and admittedthe air, louis recognized the balmy odors that trees exhale in hot summer nights. he paused, hesitatingly, for a moment ortwo; but the huge sentinel who followed him thrust him out of the subterranean passage. "another blow," said the king, turningtowards the one who had just had the audacity to touch his sovereign; "what doyou intend to do with the king of france?" "try to forget that word," replied the manwith the lamp, in a tone which as little

admitted of a reply as one of the famousdecrees of minos. "you deserve to be broken on the wheel forthe words that you have just made use of," said the giant, as he extinguished the lamphis companion handed to him; "but the king is too kind-hearted." louis, at that threat, made so sudden amovement that it seemed as if he meditated flight; but the giant's hand was in amoment placed on his shoulder, and fixed him motionless where he stood. "but tell me, at least, where we aregoing," said the king. "come," replied the former of the two men,with a kind of respect in his manner, and

leading his prisoner towards a carriagewhich seemed to be in waiting. the carriage was completely concealed amidthe trees. two horses, with their feet fettered, werefastened by a halter to the lower branches of a large oak. "get in," said the same man, opening thecarriage-door and letting down the step. the king obeyed, seated himself at the backof the carriage, the padded door of which was shut and locked immediately upon himand his guide. as for the giant, he cut the fastenings bywhich the horses were bound, harnessed them himself, and mounted on the box of thecarriage, which was unoccupied.

the carriage set off immediately at a quicktrot, turned into the road to paris, and in the forest of senart found a relay ofhorses fastened to the trees in the same manner the first horses had been, andwithout a postilion. the man on the box changed the horses, andcontinued to follow the road towards paris with the same rapidity, so that theyentered the city about three o'clock in the morning. they carriage proceeded along the faubourgsaint-antoine, and, after having called out to the sentinel, "by the king's order," thedriver conducted the horses into the circular inclosure of the bastile, looking

out upon the courtyard, called la cour dugouvernement. there the horses drew up, reeking withsweat, at the flight of steps, and a sergeant of the guard ran forward. "go and wake the governor," said thecoachman in a voice of thunder. with the exception of this voice, whichmight have been heard at the entrance of the faubourg saint-antoine, everythingremained as calm in the carriage as in the prison. ten minutes afterwards, m. de baisemeauxappeared in his dressing-gown on the threshold of the door."what is the matter now?" he asked; "and

whom have you brought me there?" the man with the lantern opened thecarriage-door, and said two or three words to the one who acted as driver, whoimmediately got down from his seat, took up a short musket which he kept under his feet, and placed its muzzle on hisprisoner's chest. "and fire at once if he speaks!" addedaloud the man who alighted from the carriage. "very good," replied his companion, withoutanother remark. with this recommendation, the person whohad accompanied the king in the carriage

ascended the flight of steps, at the top ofwhich the governor was awaiting him. "monsieur d'herblay!" said the latter. "hush!" said aramis."let us go into your room." "good heavens! what brings you here at thishour?" "a mistake, my dear monsieur debaisemeaux," aramis replied, quietly. "it appears that you were quite right theother day." "what about?" inquired the governor. "about the order of release, my dearfriend." "tell me what you mean, monsieur--no,monseigneur," said the governor, almost

suffocated by surprise and terror. "it is a very simple affair: you remember,dear m. de baisemeaux, that an order of release was sent to you.""yes, for marchiali." "very good! we both thought that it was formarchiali?" "certainly; you will recollect, however,that i would not credit it, but that you compelled me to believe it." "oh! baisemeaux, my good fellow, what aword to make use of!--strongly recommended, that was all." "strongly recommended, yes; stronglyrecommended to give him up to you; and that

you carried him off with you in yourcarriage." "well, my dear monsieur de baisemeaux, itwas a mistake; it was discovered at the ministry, so that i now bring you an orderfrom the king to set at liberty seldon,-- that poor seldon fellow, you know." "seldon! are you sure this time?""well, read it yourself," added aramis, handing him the order. "why," said baisemeaux, "this order is thevery same that has already passed through my hands.""indeed?" "it is the very one i assured you i saw theother evening.

parbleu!i recognize it by the blot of ink." "i do not know whether it is that; but alli know is, that i bring it for you." "but then, what about the other?""what other?" "marchiali." "i have got him here with me.""but that is not enough for me. i require a new order to take him backagain." "don't talk such nonsense, my dearbaisemeaux; you talk like a child! where is the order you received respectingmarchiali?" baisemeaux ran to his iron chest and tookit out.

aramis seized hold of it, coolly tore it infour pieces, held them to the lamp, and burnt them. "good heavens! what are you doing?"exclaimed baisemeaux, in an extremity of terror. "look at your position quietly, my goodgovernor," said aramis, with imperturbable self-possession, "and you will see how verysimple the whole affair is. you no longer possess any order justifyingmarchiali's release." "i am a lost man!" "far from it, my good fellow, since i havebrought marchiali back to you, and all

accordingly is just the same as if he hadnever left." "ah!" said the governor, completelyovercome by terror. "plain enough, you see; and you will go andshut him up immediately." "i should think so, indeed." "and you will hand over this seldon to me,whose liberation is authorized by this order.do you understand?" "i--i--" "you do understand, i see," said aramis."very good." baisemeaux clapped his hands together.

"but why, at all events, after having takenmarchiali away from me, do you bring him back again?" cried the unhappy governor, ina paroxysm of terror, and completely dumbfounded. "for a friend such as you are," saidaramis--"for so devoted a servant, i have no secrets;" and he put his mouth close tobaisemeaux's ear, as he said, in a low tone of voice, "you know the resemblance betweenthat unfortunate fellow, and--" "and the king?--yes!" "very good; the first use that marchialimade of his liberty was to persist--can you guess what?""how is it likely i should guess?"

"to persist in saying that he was king offrance; to dress himself up in clothes like those of the king; and then pretend toassume that he was the king himself." "gracious heavens!" "that is the reason why i have brought himback again, my dear friend. he is mad and lets every one see how mad heis." "what is to be done, then?" "that is very simple; let no one hold anycommunication with him. you understand that when his peculiar styleof madness came to the king's ears, the king, who had pitied his terribleaffliction, and saw that all his kindness

had been repaid by black ingratitude, became perfectly furious; so that, now--andremember this very distinctly, dear monsieur de baisemeaux, for it concerns youmost closely--so that there is now, i repeat, sentence of death pronounced against all those who may allow him tocommunicate with any one else but me or the king himself.you understand, baisemeaux, sentence of death!" "you need not ask me whether i understand.""and now, let us go down, and conduct this poor devil back to his dungeon again,unless you prefer he should come up here."

"what would be the good of that?" "it would be better, perhaps, to enter hisname in the prison-book at once!" "of course, certainly; not a doubt of it.""in that case, have him up." baisemeaux ordered the drums to be beatenand the bell to be rung, as a warning to every one to retire, in order to avoidmeeting a prisoner, about whom it was desired to observe a certain mystery. then, when the passages were free, he wentto take the prisoner from the carriage, at whose breast porthos, faithful to thedirections which had been given him, still kept his musket leveled.

"ah! is that you, miserable wretch?" criedthe governor, as soon as he perceived the king."very good, very good." and immediately, making the king get out ofthe carriage, he led him, still accompanied by porthos, who had not taken off his mask,and aramis, who again resumed his, up the stairs, to the second bertaudiere, and opened the door of the room in whichphilippe for six long years had bemoaned his existence. the king entered the cell withoutpronouncing a single word: he faltered in as limp and haggard as a rain-struck lily.

baisemeaux shut the door upon him, turnedthe key twice in the lock, and then returned to aramis. "it is quite true," he said, in a low tone,"that he bears a striking resemblance to the king; but less so than you said." "so that," said aramis, "you would not havebeen deceived by the substitution of the one for the other?""what a question!" "you are a most valuable fellow,baisemeaux," said aramis; "and now, set seldon free.""oh, yes. i was going to forget that.

i will go and give orders at once.""bah! to-morrow will be time enough." "to-morrow!--oh, no.this very minute." "well; go off to your affairs, i will goaway to mine. but it is quite understood, is it not?""what 'is quite understood'?" "that no one is to enter the prisoner'scell, expect with an order from the king; an order which i will myself bring.""quite so. adieu, monseigneur." aramis returned to his companion."now, porthos, my good fellow, back again to vaux, and as fast as possible."

"a man is light and easy enough, when hehas faithfully served his king; and, in serving him, saved his country," saidporthos. "the horses will be as light as if ourtissues were constructed of the wind of heaven.so let us be off." and the carriage, lightened of a prisoner,who might well be--as he in fact was--very heavy in the sight of aramis, passed acrossthe drawbridge of the bastile, which was raised again immediately behind it. chapter xviii.a night at the bastile. pain, anguish, and suffering in human lifeare always in proportion to the strength

with which a man is endowed. we will not pretend to say that heavenalways apportions to a man's capability of endurance the anguish with which heafflicts him; for that, indeed, would not be true, since heaven permits the existence of death, which is, sometimes, the onlyrefuge open to those who are too closely pressed--too bitterly afflicted, as far asthe body is concerned. suffering is in proportion to the strengthwhich has been accorded; in other words, the weak suffer more, where the trial isthe same, than the strong. and what are the elementary principles, wemay ask, that compose human strength?

is it not--more than anything else--exercise, habit, experience? we shall not even take the trouble todemonstrate this, for it is an axiom in morals, as in physics. when the young king, stupefied and crushedin every sense and feeling, found himself led to a cell in the bastile, he fancieddeath itself is but a sleep; that it, too, has its dreams as well; that the bed had broken through the flooring of his room atvaux; that death had resulted from the occurrence; and that, still carrying outhis dream, the king, louis xiv., now no longer living, was dreaming one of those

horrors, impossible to realize in life,which is termed dethronement, imprisonment, and insult towards a sovereign who formerlywielded unlimited power. to be present at--an actual witness, too--of this bitterness of death; to float, indecisively, in an incomprehensiblemystery, between resemblance and reality; to hear everything, to see everything, without interfering in a single detail ofagonizing suffering, was--so the king thought within himself--a torture far moreterrible, since it might last forever. "is this what is termed eternity--hell?" hemurmured, at the moment the door was closed upon him, which we remember baisemeaux hadshut with his own hands.

he did not even look round him; and in theroom, leaning with his back against the wall, he allowed himself to be carried awayby the terrible supposition that he was already dead, as he closed his eyes, in order to avoid looking upon something evenworse still. "how can i have died?" he said to himself,sick with terror. "the bed might have been let down by someartificial means? but no!i do not remember to have felt a bruise, nor any shock either. would they not rather have poisoned me atmy meals, or with the fumes of wax, as they

did my ancestress, jeanne d'albret?" suddenly, the chill of the dungeons seemedto fall like a wet cloak upon louis's shoulders. "i have seen," he said, "my father lyingdead upon his funeral couch, in his regal robes. that pale face, so calm and worn; thosehands, once so skillful, lying nerveless by his side; those limbs stiffened by the icygrasp of death; nothing there betokened a sleep that was disturbed by dreams. and yet, how numerous were the dreams whichheaven might have sent that royal corpse--

him whom so many others had preceded,hurried away by him into eternal death! no, that king was still the king: he wasenthroned still upon that funeral couch, as upon a velvet armchair; he had notabdicated one title of his majesty. god, who had not punished him, cannot, willnot punish me, who have done nothing." a strange sound attracted the young man'sattention. he looked round him, and saw on the mantel-shelf, just below an enormous crucifix, coarsely painted in fresco on the wall, arat of enormous size engaged in nibbling a piece of dry bread, but fixing all the time, an intelligent and inquiring lookupon the new occupant of the cell.

the king could not resist a sudden impulseof fear and disgust: he moved back towards the door, uttering a loud cry; and as if hebut needed this cry, which escaped from his breast almost unconsciously, to recognize himself, louis knew that he was alive andin full possession of his natural senses. "a prisoner!" he cried."i--i, a prisoner!" he looked round him for a bell to summonsome one to him. "there are no bells in the bastile," hesaid, "and it is in the bastile i am imprisoned. in what way can i have been made aprisoner?

it must have been owing to a conspiracy ofm. fouquet. i have been drawn to vaux, as to a snare. m. fouquet cannot be acting alone in thisaffair. his agent--that voice that i but just nowheard was m. d'herblay's; i recognized it. colbert was right, then. but what is fouquet's object?to reign in my place and stead?-- impossible.yet who knows!" thought the king, relapsing into gloom again. "perhaps my brother, the duc d'orleans, isdoing that which my uncle wished to do

during the whole of his life against myfather. but the queen?--my mother, too? and la valliere?oh! la valliere, she will have been abandoned to madame.dear, dear girl! yes, it is--it must be so. they have shut her up as they have me.we are separated forever!" and at this idea of separation the poorlover burst into a flood of tears and sobs and groans. "there is a governor in this place," theking continued, in a fury of passion; "i

will speak to him, i will summon him tome." he called--no voice replied to his. he seized hold of his chair, and hurled itagainst the massive oaken door. the wood resounded against the door, andawakened many a mournful echo in the profound depths of the staircase; but froma human creature, none. this was a fresh proof for the king of theslight regard in which he was held at the bastile. therefore, when his first fit of anger hadpassed away, having remarked a barred window through which there passed a streamof light, lozenge-shaped, which must be, he

knew, the bright orb of approaching day, louis began to call out, at first gentlyenough, then louder and louder still; but no one replied. twenty other attempts which he made, oneafter another, obtained no other or better success.his blood began to boil within him, and mount to his head. his nature was such, that, accustomed tocommand, he trembled at the idea of disobedience. the prisoner broke the chair, which was tooheavy for him to lift, and made use of it

as a battering ram to strike against thedoor. he struck so loudly, and so repeatedly,that the perspiration soon began to pour down his face. the sound became tremendous and continuous;certain stifled, smothered cries replied in different directions.this sound produced a strange effect upon the king. he paused to listen; it was the voice ofthe prisoners, formerly his victims, now his companions. the voices ascended like vapors through thethick ceilings and the massive walls, and

rose in accusations against the author ofthis noise, as doubtless their sighs and tears accused, in whispered tones, theauthor of their captivity. after having deprived so many people oftheir liberty, the king came among them to rob them of their rest. this idea almost drove him mad; itredoubled his strength, or rather his well, bent upon obtaining some information, or aconclusion to the affair. with a portion of the broken chair herecommenced the noise. at the end of an hour, louis heardsomething in the corridor, behind the door of his cell, and a violent blow, which wasreturned upon the door itself, made him

cease his own. "are you mad?" said a rude, brutal voice."what is the matter with you this morning?" "this morning!" thought the king; but hesaid aloud, politely, "monsieur, are you the governor of the bastile?" "my good fellow, your head is out ofsorts," replied the voice; "but that is no reason why you should make such a terribledisturbance. be quiet; mordioux!" "are you the governor?" the king inquiredagain. he heard a door on the corridor close; thejailer had just left, not condescending to

reply a single word. when the king had assured himself of hisdeparture, his fury knew no longer any bounds. as agile as a tiger, he leaped from thetable to the window, and struck the iron bars with all his might. he broke a pane of glass, the pieces ofwhich fell clanking into the courtyard below.he shouted with increasing hoarseness, "the governor, the governor!" this excess lasted fully an hour, duringwhich time he was in a burning fever.

with his hair in disorder and matted on hisforehead, his dress torn and covered with dust and plaster, his linen in shreds, theking never rested until his strength was utterly exhausted, and it was not until then that he clearly understood thepitiless thickness of the walls, the impenetrable nature of the cement,invincible to every influence but that of time, and that he possessed no other weaponbut despair. he leaned his forehead against the door,and let the feverish throbbings of his heart calm by degrees; it had seemed as ifone single additional pulsation would have made it burst.

"a moment will come when the food which isgiven to the prisoners will be brought to me.i shall then see some one, i shall speak to him, and get an answer." and the king tried to remember at what hourthe first repast of the prisoners was served at the bastile; he was ignorant evenof this detail. the feeling of remorse at this remembrancesmote him like the thrust of a dagger, that he should have lived for five and twentyyears a king, and in the enjoyment of every happiness, without having bestowed a moment's thought on the misery of those whohad been unjustly deprived of their

liberty.the king blushed for very shame. he felt that heaven, in permitting thisfearful humiliation, did no more than render to the man the same torture as hadbeen inflicted by that man upon so many others. nothing could be more efficacious forreawakening his mind to religious influences than the prostration of hisheart and mind and soul beneath the feeling of such acute wretchedness. but louis dared not even kneel in prayer togod to entreat him to terminate his bitter trial."heaven is right," he said; "heaven acts

wisely. it would be cowardly to pray to heaven forthat which i have so often refused my own fellow-creatures." he had reached this stage of hisreflections, that is, of his agony of mind, when a similar noise was again heard behindhis door, followed this time by the sound of the key in the lock, and of the boltsbeing withdrawn from their staples. the king bounded forward to be nearer tothe person who was about to enter, but, suddenly reflecting that it was a movementunworthy of a sovereign, he paused, assumed a noble and calm expression, which for him

was easy enough, and waited with his backturned towards the window, in order, to some extent, to conceal his agitation fromthe eyes of the person who was about to enter. it was only a jailer with a basket ofprovisions. the king looked at the man with restlessanxiety, and waited until he spoke. "ah!" said the latter, "you have brokenyour chair. i said you had done so!why, you have gone quite mad." "monsieur," said the king, "be careful whatyou say; it will be a very serious affair for you."the jailer placed the basket on the table,

and looked at his prisoner steadily. "what do you say?" he said."desire the governor to come to me," added the king, in accents full of calm anddignity. "come, my boy," said the turnkey, "you havealways been very quiet and reasonable, but you are getting vicious, it seems, and iwish you to know it in time. you have broken your chair, and made agreat disturbance; that is an offense punishable by imprisonment in one of thelower dungeons. promise me not to begin over again, and iwill not say a word about it to the governor.""i wish to see the governor," replied the

king, still governing his passions. "he will send you off to one of thedungeons, i tell you; so take care." "i insist upon it, do you hear?""ah! ah! your eyes are becoming wild again. very good! i shall take away your knife."and the jailer did what he said, quitted the prisoner, and closed the door, leavingthe king more astounded, more wretched, more isolated than ever. it was useless, though he tried it, to makethe same noise again on his door, and equally useless that he threw the platesand dishes out of the window; not a single

sound was heard in recognition. two hours afterwards he could not berecognized as a king, a gentleman, a man, a human being; he might rather be called amadman, tearing the door with his nails, trying to tear up the flooring of his cell, and uttering such wild and fearful criesthat the old bastile seemed to tremble to its very foundations for having revoltedagainst its master. as for the governor, the jailer did noteven think of disturbing him; the turnkeys and the sentinels had reported theoccurrence to him, but what was the good of it?

were not these madmen common enough in sucha prison? and were not the walls still stronger? m. de baisemeaux, thoroughly impressed withwhat aramis had told him, and in perfect conformity with the king's order, hopedonly that one thing might happen; namely, that the madman marchiali might be mad enough to hang himself to the canopy of hisbed, or to one of the bars of the window. in fact, the prisoner was anything but aprofitable investment for m. baisemeaux, and became more annoying than agreeable tohim. these complications of seldon andmarchiali--the complications first of

setting at liberty and then imprisoningagain, the complications arising from the strong likeness in question--had at lastfound a very proper denouement. baisemeaux even thought he had remarkedthat d'herblay himself was not altogether dissatisfied with the result. "and then, really," said baisemeaux to hisnext in command, "an ordinary prisoner is already unhappy enough in being a prisoner;he suffers quite enough, indeed, to induce one to hope, charitably enough, that hisdeath may not be far distant. with still greater reason, accordingly,when the prisoner has gone mad, and might bite and make a terrible disturbance in thebastile; why, in such a case, it is not

simply an act of mere charity to wish him dead; it would be almost a good and evencommendable action, quietly to have him put out of his misery."and the good-natured governor thereupon sat down to his late breakfast.

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