Fouquet was present, as D'Artagnan had said, at the king'scard-table. It seemed as if Buckingham's departure had sheda balm on the lacerated hearts of the previous evening.Monsieur, radiant with delight, made a thousand affectionatesigns to his mother. The Count de Guiche could not separatehimself from Buckingham and while playing, conversed withhim upon the circumstance of his projected voyage.Buckingham, thoughtful, and kind in his manner, like a manwho has adopted a resolution, listened to the count, andfrom time to time cast a look full of regret and hopelessaffection at Madame. The princess, in the midst of herelation of spirits, divided her attention between the king,who was playing with her, Monsieur, who quietly joked herabout her enormous winnings, and De Guiche, who exhibited anextravagant delight. Of Buckingham she took but littlenotice; for her, this fugitive, this exile, was now simply aremembrance, no longer a man. Light hearts are thusconstituted; while they themselves continue untouched, theyroughly break off with every one who may possibly interferewith their little calculations of selfish comfort. Madamehad received Buckingham's smiles and attentions and sighswhile he was present; but what was the good of sighing,smiling and kneeling at a distance? Can one tell in whatdirection the winds in the Channel, which toss mightyvessels to and fro, carry such sighs as these. The dukecould not fail to mark this change, and his heart wascruelly hurt. Of a sensitive character, proud andsusceptible of deep attachment, he cursed the day on whichsuch a passion had entered his heart. The looks he cast,from time to time at Madame, became colder by degrees at thechilling complexion of his thoughts. He could hardly yetdespair, but he was strong enough to impose silence upon thetumultuous outcries of his heart. In exact proportion,however, as Madame suspected this change of feeling, sheredoubled her activity to regain the ray of light she wasabout to lose; her timid and indecisive mind was displayedin brilliant flashes of wit and humor. At any cost she feltthat she must be remarked above everything and every one,even above the king himself. And she was so, for the queens,notwithstanding their dignity, and the king, despite therespect which etiquette required, were all eclipsed by her.The queens, stately and ceremonious, were softened and couldnot restrain their laughter. Madame Henrietta, thequeen-mother, was dazzled by the brilliancy which castdistinction upon her family, thanks to the wit of thegrand-daughter of Henry IV. The king, jealous, as a youngman and as a monarch, of the superiority of those whosurrounded him, could not resist admitting himselfvanquished by a petulance so thoroughly French in itsnature, whose energy was more than ever increased by Englishhumor. Like a child, he was captivated by her radiantbeauty, which her wit made still more dazzling. Madame'seyes flashed like lightning. Wit and humor escaped from herscarlet lips, like persuasion from the lips of Nestor ofold. The whole court, subdued by her enchanting grace,noticed for the first time that laughter could be indulgedin before the greatest monarch in the world, like people whomerited their appellation of the wittiest and most polishedpeople in Europe.

Madame, from that evening, achieved and enjoyed a successcapable of bewildering all not born to those altitudestermed thrones; which, in spite of their elevation, aresheltered from such giddiness. From that very moment LouisXIV. acknowledged Madame as a person to be recognized.Buckingham regarded her as a coquette deserving the cruelesttortures, and De Guiche looked upon her as a divinity; thecourtiers as a star whose light might some day become thefocus of all favor and power. And yet Louis XIV., a fewyears previously, had not even condescended to offer hishand to that "ugly girl" for a ballet; and Buckingham hadworshipped this coquette "on both knees." De Guiche had oncelooked upon this divinity as a mere woman; and the courtiershad not dared to extol this star in her upward progress,fearful to disgust the monarch whom such a dull star hadformerly displeased.

Let us see what was taking place during this memorableevening at the king's card-table. The young queen, althoughSpanish by birth, and the niece of Anne of Austria, lovedthe king, and could not conceal her affection. Anne ofAustria, a keen observer, like all women, and imperious,like every queen, was sensible of Madame's power, andacquiesced in it immediately, a circumstance which inducedthe young queen to raise the siege and retire to herapartments. The king hardly paid any attention to herdeparture, notwithstanding the pretended symptoms ofindisposition by which it was accompanied. Encouraged by therules of etiquette, which he had begun to introduce at thecourt as an element of every relation of life, Louis XIV.did not disturb himself; he offered his hand to Madamewithout looking at Monsieur his brother, and led the youngprincess to the door of her apartments. It was remarked thatat the threshold of the door, his majesty, freed from everyrestraint, or not equal to the situation, sighed verydeeply. The ladies present - for nothing escapes a woman'sglance - Mademoiselle Montalais, for instance - did notfail to say to each other, "the king sighed," and "Madamesighed too." This had been indeed the case. Madame hadsighed very noiselessly, but with an accompaniment very farmore dangerous for the king's repose. Madame had sighed,first closing her beautiful black eyes, next opening them,and then, laden, as they were, with an indescribablemournfulness of expression, she had raised them towards theking, whose face at that moment visibly heightened in color.The consequence of these blushes, of these interchangedsighs, and of this royal agitation, was, that Montalais hadcommitted an indiscretion which had certainly affected hercompanion, for Mademoiselle de la Valliere, less clearsighted, perhaps, turned pale when the king blushed; and herattendance being required upon Madame, she tremblinglyfollowed the princess without thinking of taking the gloves,which court etiquette required her to do. True it is thatthis young country girl might allege as her excuse theagitation into which the king seemed to be thrown, forMademoiselle de la Valliere, busily engaged in closing thedoor, had involuntarily fixed her eyes upon the king, who,as he retired backwards, had his face towards it. The kingreturned to the room where the card-tables were set out. Hewished to speak to the different persons there, but it waseasy to see that his mind was absent. He jumbled differentaccounts together, which was taken advantage of by some ofthe noblemen who had retained those habits since the time ofMonsieur Mazarin - who had a poor memory, but was a goodcalculator. In this way Monsieur Manicamp, with athoughtless and absent air - for M. Manicamp was thehonestest man in the world appropriated twenty thousandfrancs, which were littering the table, and which did notseem to belong to any person in particular. In the same way,Monsieur de Wardes, whose head was doubtless a littlebewildered by the occurrences of the evening, somehow forgotto leave behind him the sixty double louis which he had wonfor the Duke of Buckingham, and which the duke, incapable,like his father, of soiling his hands with coin of any sort,had left lying on the table before him. The king onlyrecovered his attention in some degree at the moment thatMonsieur Colbert, who had been narrowly observant for someminutes, approached, and, doubtless, with great respect, yetwith much perseverance, whispered a counsel of some sortinto the still tingling ears of the king. The king, at thesuggestion, listened with renewed attention and immediatelylooking around him, said, "Is Monsieur Fouquet no longerhere?"

"Yes, sire, I am here," replied the superintendent, tillthen engaged with Buckingham, and approached the king, whoadvanced a step towards him with a smiling yet negligentair. "Forgive me," said Louis, "if I interrupt yourconversation; but I claim your attention wherever I mayrequire your services."

"I am always at the king's service," replied Fouquet.

"And your cash-box too," said the king, laughing with afalse smile.

"My cash-box more than anything else," said Fouquet, coldly.

"The fact is, I wish to give a fete at Fontainebleau - tokeep open house for fifteen days, and I shall require - - "and he stopped glancing at Colbert. Fouquet waited withoutshowing discomposure; and the king resumed, answeringColbert's icy smile, "four million francs."

"Four million," repeated Fouquet, bowing profoundly. And hisnails, buried in his bosom, were thrust into his flesh, butthe tranquil expression of his face remained unaltered."When will they be required, sire?"

"Take your time, - I mean - no, no, as soon as possible."

"A certain time will be necessary, sire."

"Time!" exclaimed Colbert, triumphantly.

"The time, monsieur," said the superintendent, with thehaughtiest disdain, "simply to count the money: a millioncan only be drawn and weighed in a day."

"Four days then," said Colbert.

"My clerks," replied Fouquet, addressing himself to theking, "will perform wonders on his majesty's service, andthe sum shall be ready in three days."

It was for Colbert now to turn pale. Louis looked at himastonished. Fouquet withdrew without any parade or weakness,smiling at his numerous friends, in whose countenances alonehe read the sincerity of their friendship - an interestpartaking of compassion. Fouquet, however, should not bejudged by his smile, for, in reality he felt as if he hadbeen stricken by death. Drops of blood beneath his coatstained the fine linen that clothed his chest. His dressconcealed the blood, and his smile the rage which devouredhim. His domestics perceived, by the manner in which heapproached his carriage, that their master was not in thebest of humors: the result of their discernment was, thathis orders were executed with that exactitude of maneuverwhich is found on board a man-of-war, commanded during astorm by an ill-tempered captain. The carriage, therefore,did not simply roll along - it flew. Fouquet had hardlytime to recover himself during the drive; on his arrival hewent at once to Aramis, who had not yet retired for thenight. As for Porthos, he had supped very agreeably off aroast leg of mutton, two pheasants, and a perfect heap ofcray-fish; he then directed his body to be anointed withperfumed oils, in the manner of the wrestlers of old; andwhen this anointment was completed, he had himself wrappedin flannels and placed in a warm bed. Aramis, as we havealready said, had not retired. Seated at his ease in avelvet dressing-gown, he wrote letter after letter in thatfine and hurried handwriting, a page of which contained aquarter of a volume. The door was thrown hurriedly open, andthe superintendent appeared, pale, agitated, anxious. Aramislooked up: "Good-evening," said he, and his searching lookdetected his host's sadness and disordered state of mind."Was your play as good as his majesty's?" asked Aramis, byway of beginning the conversation.

Fouquet threw himself upon a couch, and then pointed to thedoor to the servant who had followed him; when the servanthad left he said, "Excellent."

Aramis, who had followed every movement with his eyes,noticed that he stretched himself upon the cushions with asort of feverish impatience. "You have lost as usual?"inquired Aramis, his pen still in his hand.

"Even more than usual," replied Fouquet.

"You know how to support losses?"

"Sometimes."

"What, Monsieur Fouquet a bad player!"

"There is play and play, Monsieur d'Herblay."

"How much have you lost?" inquired Aramis, with a slightuneasiness.

Fouquet collected himself a moment, and then, without theslightest emotion, said, "The evening has cost me fourmillions," and a bitter laugh drowned the last vibration ofthese words.

Aramis, who did not expect such an amount, dropped his pen."Four millions," he said; "you have lost four millions, - impossible!"

"Monsieur Colbert held my cards for me," replied thesuperintendent, with a similar bitter laugh.

"Ah, now I understand; so, so, a new application for funds?"

"Yes, and from the king's own lips. It was impossible toruin a man with a more charming smile. What do you think ofit?"

"It is clear that your destruction is the object in view."

"That is your opinion?"

"Still. Besides, there is nothing in it which shouldastonish you, for we have foreseen it all along"

"Yes; but I did not expect four millions."

"No doubt the amount is serious, but, after all, fourmillions are not quite the death of a man, especially whenthe man in question is Monsieur Fouquet."

"My dear D'Herblay, if you knew the contents of my coffers,you would be less easy."

"And you promised?"

"What could I do?"

"That's true."

"The very day I refuse, Colbert will procure the money;whence I know not, but he will procure it: and I shall belost."

"There is no doubt of that. In how many days did you promisethese four millions?"

"In three days. The king seemed exceedingly pressed."

"In three days?"

"When I think," resumed Fouquet, "that just now as I passedalong the streets, the people cried out, `There is the richMonsieur Fouquet,' it is enough to turn my brain."

"Stay, monsieur, the matter is not worth so much trouble,"said Aramis, calmly, sprinkling some sand over the letter hehad just written.

"Suggest a remedy, then, for this evil without a remedy."

"There is only one remedy for you, - pay."

"But it is very uncertain whether I have the money.Everything must be exhausted; Belle-Isle is paid for; thepension has been paid; and money, since the investigation ofthe accounts of those who farm the revenue, is scarce.Besides, admitting that I pay this time, how can I do so onanother occasion? When kings have tasted money, they arelike tigers who have tasted flesh, they devour everything.The day will arrive - must arrive - when I shall have tosay, `Impossible, sire,' and on that very day I am a lostman."

Aramis raised his shoulders slightly, saying:

"A man in your position, my lord, is only lost when hewishes to be so."

"A man, whatever his position may be, cannot hope tostruggle against a king."

"Nonsense; when I was young I wrestled successfully with theCardinal Richelieu, who was king of France, - nay more - cardinal."

"Where are my armies, my troops, my treasures? I have noteven Belle-Isle."

"Bah! necessity is the mother of invention, and when youthink all is lost, something will be discovered which willretrieve everything."

"Who will discover this wonderful something?"

"Yourself."

"I! I resign my office of inventor."

"Then I will."

"Be it so. But set to work without delay."

"Oh! we have time enough!"

"You kill me, D'Herblay, with your calmness," said thesuperintendent, passing his handkerchief over his face.

"Do you not remember that I one day told you not to makeyourself uneasy, if you possessed courage? Have you any?"

"I believe so."

"Then don't make yourself uneasy."

"It is decided, then, that, at the last moment, you willcome to my assistance."

"It will only be the repayment of a debt I owe you."

"It is the vocation of financiers to anticipate the wants ofmen such as yourself, D'Herblay."

"If obligingness is the vocation of financiers, charity isthe virtue of the clergy. Only, on this occasion, do youact, monsieur. You are not yet sufficiently reduced, and atthe last moment we will see what is to be done."

"We shall see, then, in a very short time."

"Very well. However, permit me to tell you that, personally,I regret exceedingly that you are at present so short ofmoney, because I was myself about to ask you for some."

"For yourself?"

"For myself, or some of my people, for mine or for ours."

"How much do you want?"

"Be easy on that score; a roundish sum, it is true, but nottoo exorbitant."

"Tell me the amount."

"Fifty thousand francs."

"Oh! a mere nothing. Of course one has always fifty thousandfrancs. Why the deuce cannot that knave Colbert be as easilysatisfied as you are - and I should give myself far lesstrouble than I do. When do you need this sum?"

"To-morrow morning; but you wish to know its destination."

"Nay, nay, chevalier, I need no explanation."

"To-morrow is the first of June."

"Well?"

"One of our bonds becomes due."

"I did not know we had any bond."

"Certainly, to-morrow we pay our last third instalment."

"What third?"

"Of the one hundred and fifty thousand francs toBaisemeaux."

"Baisemeaux? Who is he?"

"The governor of the Bastile."

"Yes, I remember. On what grounds am I to pay one hundredand fifty thousand francs for that man?"

"On account of the appointment which he, or rather we,purchased from Louviere and Tremblay."

"I have a very vague recollection of the matter."

"That is likely enough, for you have so many affairs toattend to. However, I do not believe you have any affair inthe world of greater importance than this one."

"Tell me, then, why we purchased this appointment."

"Why, in order to render him a service in the first place,and afterwards ourselves."

"Ourselves? You are joking."

"Monseigneur, the time may come when the governor of theBastile may prove a very excellent acquaintance."

"I have not the good fortune to understand you, D'Herblay."

"Monseigneur, we had our own poets, our own engineer, ourown architect, our own musicians, our own printer, and ourown painters; we needed our own governor of the Bastile."

"Do you think so?"

"Let us not deceive ourselves, monseigneur; we are very muchopposed to paying the Bastile a visit," added the prelate,displaying, beneath his pale lips, teeth which were stillthe same beautiful teeth so much admired thirty yearspreviously by Marie Michon.

"And you think it is not too much to pay one hundred andfifty thousand francs for that? I thought you generally putout money at better interest than that."

"The day will come when you will admit your mistake."

"My dear D'Herblay, the very day on which a man enters theBastile, he is no longer protected by his past."

"Yes, he is, if the bonds are perfectly regular; besides,that good fellow Baisemeaux has not a courtier's heart. I amcertain, my lord, that he will not remain ungrateful forthat money, without taking into account, I repeat, that Iretain the acknowledgments."

"It is a strange affair! usury in a matter of benevolence."

"Do not mix yourself up with it, monseigneur; if there beusury, it is I who practice it, and both of us reap theadvantage from it - that is all."

"Some intrigue, D'Herblay?"

"I do not deny it."

"And Baisemeaux an accomplice in it?"

"Why not? - there are worse accomplices than he. May Idepend, then, upon the five thousand pistoles to-morrow?"

"Do you want them this evening?"

"It would be better, for I wish to start early; poorBaisemeaux will not be able to imagine what has become ofme, and must be upon thorns."

"You shall have the amount in an hour. Ah, D'Herblay, theinterest of your one hundred and fifty thousand francs willnever pay my four millions for me."

"Why not, monseigneur."

"Good-night, I have business to transact with my clerksbefore I retire."

"A good night's rest, monseigneur."

"D'Herblay, you wish things that are impossible."

"Shall I have my fifty thousand francs this evening?"

"Yes."

"Go to sleep, then, in perfect safety - it is I who tellyou to do so."

Notwithstanding this assurance, and the tone in which it wasgiven, Fouquet left the room shaking his head, and heaving asigh.