Monsieur Faucheux's horses were serviceable animals, withthickset knees, and legs that had some difficulty in moving.Like the carriage, they belonged to the earlier part of thecentury. They were not as fleet as the English horses of M.Fouquet, and consequently took two hours to get toSaint-Mande. Their progress, it might be said, was majestic.Majesty, however, precludes hurry. The marquise stopped thecarriage at the door so well known to her, although she hadseen it only once, under circumstances, it will beremembered, no less painful than those which brought her nowto it again. She drew a key from her pocket, and inserted itin the lock, pushed open the door, which noiselessly yieldedto her touch, and directed the clerk to carry the chestupstairs to the first floor. The weight of the chest was sogreat that the clerk was obliged to get the coachman toassist him with it. They placed it in a small cabinet,anteroom, or boudoir rather, adjoining the saloon where weonce saw M. Fouquet at the marquise's feet. Madame deBelliere gave the coachman a louis, smiled gracefully at theclerk, and dismissed them both. She closed the door afterthem, and waited in the room, alone and barricaded. Therewas no servant to be seen about the rooms, but everythingwas prepared as though some invisible genius had divined thewishes and desires of an expected guest. The fire was laid,candles in the candelabra, refreshments upon the table,books scattered about, fresh-cut flowers in the vases. Onemight almost have imagined it an enchanted house. Themarquise lighted the candles, inhaled the perfume of theflowers, sat down, and was soon plunged in profound thought.Her deep musings, melancholy though they were, were notuntinged with a certain vague joy. Spread out before her wasa treasure, a million wrung from her fortune as a gleanerplucks the blue corn-flower from her crown of flowers. Sheconjured up the sweetest dreams. Her principal thought, andone that took precedence of all others, was to devise meansof leaving this money for M. Fouquet without his possiblylearning from whom the gift had come. This idea, naturallyenough, was the first to present itself to her mind. Butalthough, on reflection, it appeared difficult to carry out,she did not despair of success. She would then ring tosummon M. Fouquet and make her escape, happier than if,instead of having given a million, she had herself foundone. But, being there, and having seen the boudoir socoquettishly decorated that it might almost be said theleast particle of dust had but the moment before beenremoved by the servants; having observed the drawing-room,so perfectly arranged that it might almost be said herpresence there had driven away the fairies who were itsoccupants, she asked herself if the glance or gaze of thosewhom she had displaced - whether spirits, fairies, elves,or human creatures - had not already recognized her. Tosecure success, it was necessary that some steps should beseriously taken, and it was necessary also that thesuperintendent should comprehend the serious position inwhich he was placed, in order to yield compliance with thegenerous fancies of a woman; all the fascinations of aneloquent friendship would be required to persuade him, and,should this be insufficient, the maddening influence of adevoted passion, which, in its resolute determination tocarry conviction, would not be turned aside. Was not thesuperintendent, indeed, known for his delicacy and dignityof feeling? Would he allow himself to accept from any womanthat of which she had stripped herself? No! He would resist,and if any voice in the world could overcome his resistance,it would be the voice of the woman he loved.

Another doubt, and that a cruel one, suggested itself toMadame de Belliere with a sharp, acute pain, like a daggerthrust. Did he really love her? Would that volatile mind,that inconstant heart, be likely to be fixed for a moment,even were it to gaze upon an angel? Was it not the same withFouquet, notwithstanding his genius and his uprightness ofconduct, as with those conquerors on the field of battle whoshed tears when they have gained a victory?" I must learn ifit be so, and must judge of that for myself," said themarquise. "Who can tell whether that heart, so coveted, isnot common in its impulses, and full of alloy? Who can tellif that mind, when the touchstone is applied to it, will notbe found of a mean and vulgar character? Come, come," shesaid, "this is doubting and hesitating too much - to theproof." She looked at the timepiece. "It is now seveno'clock," she said; "he must have arrived, it is the hourfor signing his papers." With a feverish impatience she roseand walked towards the mirror, in which she smiled with aresolute smile of devotedness; she touched the spring anddrew out the handle of the bell. Then, as if exhaustedbeforehand by the struggle she had just undergone, she threwherself on her knees, in utter abandonment, before a largecouch, in which she buried her face in her trembling hands.Ten minutes afterwards she heard the spring of the doorsound. The door moved upon invisible hinges, and Fouquetappeared. He looked pale, and seemed bowed down by theweight of some bitter reflection. He did not hurry, butsimply came at the summons. The pre-occupation of his mindmust indeed have been very great, that a man so devoted topleasure, for whom indeed pleasure meant everything, shouldobey such a summons so listlessly. The previous night, infact, fertile in melancholy ideas, had sharpened hisfeatures, generally so noble in their indifference ofexpression, and had traced dark lines of anxiety around hiseyes. Handsome and noble he still was, and the melancholyexpression of his mouth, a rare expression with men, gave anew character to his features, by which his youth seemed tobe renewed. Dressed in black, the lace in front of his chestmuch disarranged by his feverishly restless hand, the looksof the superintendent, full of dreamy reflection, were fixedupon the threshold of the room which he had so frequentlyapproached in search of expected happiness. This gloomygentleness of manner, this smiling sadness of expression,which had replaced his former excessive joy, produced anindescribable effect upon Madame de Belliere, who wasregarding him at a distance.

A woman's eye can read the face of the man she loves, itsevery feeling of pride, its every expression of suffering;it might almost be said that Heaven has graciously grantedto women, on account of their very weakness, more than ithas accorded to other creatures. They can conceal their ownfeelings from a man, but from them no man can conceal his.The marquise divined in a single glance the whole weight ofthe unhappiness of the superintendent. She divined a nightpassed without sleep, a day passed in deceptions. From thatmoment she was firm in her own strength, and she felt thatshe loved Fouquet beyond everything else. She arose andapproached him, saying, "You wrote to me this morning to sayyou were beginning to forget me, and that I, whom you hadnot seen lately, had no doubt ceased to think of you. I havecome to undeceive you, monsieur, and the more completely so,because there is one thing I can read in your eyes."

"What is that, madame?" said Fouquet, astonished.

"That you have never loved me so much as at this moment; inthe same manner you can read, in my present step towardsyou, that I have not forgotten you."

"Oh! madame," said Fouquet, whose face was for a momentlighted up by a sudden gleam of joy, "you are indeed anangel, and no man can suspect you. All he can do is tohumble himself before you and entreat forgiveness."

"Your forgiveness is granted, then," said the marquise.Fouquet was about to throw himself upon his knees. "No, no,"she said, "sit here by my side. Ah! that is an evil thoughtwhich has just crossed your mind."

"How do you detect it, madame?"

"By the smile that has just marred the expression of yourcountenance, Be candid, and tell me what your thought was - no secrets between friends."

"Tell me, then, madame, why have you been so harsh thesethree or four months past?"

"Harsh?"

"Yes; did you not forbid me to visit you?"

"Alas!" said Madame de Belliere, sighing, "because yourvisit to me was the cause of your being visited with a greatmisfortune; because my house is watched; because the sameeyes that have seen you already might see you again; becauseI think it less dangerous for you that I should come herethan that you should come to my house; and, lastly, becauseI know you to be already unhappy enough not to wish toincrease your unhappiness further."

Fouquet started, for these words recalled all the anxietiesconnected with his office of superintendent - he who, forthe last few minutes, had indulged in all the wildaspirations of the lover. "I unhappy?" he said, endeavoringto smile: "indeed, marquise, you will almost make me believeI am so, judging from your own sadness. Are your beautifuleyes raised upon me merely in pity? I was looking foranother expression from them."

"It is not I who am sad, monsieur; look in the mirror, there- it is yourself."

"It is true I am somewhat pale, marquise; but it is fromoverwork; the king yesterday required a supply of money fromme."

"Yes, four millions, I am aware of it."

"You know it?" exclaimed Fouquet, in a tone of surprise;"how can you have learnt it? It was after the departure ofthe queen, and in the presence of one person only, that theking - - "

"You perceive that I do know it; is not that sufficient?Well, go on, monsieur, the money the king has required youto supply - - "

"You understand, marquise, that I have been obliged toprocure it, then to get it counted, afterwards registered - altogether a long affair. Since Monsieur de Mazarin's death,financial affairs occasion some little fatigue andembarrassment. My administration is somewhat overtaxed, andthis is the reason why I have not slept during the pastnight."

"So that you have the amount?" inquired the marquise, withsome anxiety.

"It would indeed be strange, marquise," replied Fouquet,cheerfully, "if a superintendent of finances were not tohave a paltry four millions in his coffers."

"Yes, yes, I believe you either have, or will have them."

"What do you mean by saying I shall have them?"

"It is not very long since you were required to furnish twomillions."

"On the contrary, to me it seems almost an age; but do notlet us talk of money matters any longer."

"On the contrary, we will continue to speak of them, forthat is my only reason for coming to see you."

"I am at a loss to compass your meaning," said thesuperintendent, whose eyes began to express an anxiouscuriosity.

"Tell me, monsieur, is the office of superintendent apermanent position?"

"You surprise me, marchioness, for you speak as if you hadsome motive or interest in putting the question."

"My reason is simple enough; I am desirous of placing somemoney in your hands, and naturally I wish to know if you arecertain of your post."

"Really, marquise, I am at a loss what to reply; I cannotconceive your meaning."

"Seriously, then, dear M. Fouquet, funds which somewhatembarrass me. I am tired of investing my money in land, andam anxious to intrust it to some friend who will turn it toaccount."

"Surely it does not press," said M. Fouquet.

"On the contrary, it is very pressing."

"Very well, we will talk of that by and by."

"By and by will not do, for my money is there," returned themarquise, pointing out the coffer to the superintendent, andshowing him, as she opened it, the bundles of notes andheaps of gold. Fouquet, who had risen from his seat at thesame moment as Madame de Belliere, remained for a momentplunged in thought; then suddenly starting back, he turnedpale, and sank down in his chair, concealing his face in hishands. "Madame, madame," he murmured, "what opinion can youhave of me, when you make me such an offer?"

"Of you!" returned the marquise. "Tell me, rather, what youyourself think of the step I have taken."

"You bring me this money for myself, and you bring itbecause you know me to be embarrassed. Nay, do not deny it,for I am sure of it. Can I not read your heart?"

"If you know my heart, then, can you not see that it is myheart I offer you?"

"I have guessed rightly, then," exclaimed Fouquet. "Intruth, madame, I have never yet given you the right toinsult me in this manner."

"Insult you," she said, turning pale, "what singulardelicacy of feeling! You tell me you love me; in the name ofthat affection you wish me to sacrifice my reputation and myhonor, yet, when I offer you money which is my own, yourefuse me."

"Madame, you are at liberty to preserve what you term yourreputation and your honor. Permit me to preserve mine. Leaveme to my ruin, leave me to sink beneath the weight of thehatreds which surround me, beneath the faults I havecommitted, beneath the load even, of my remorse, but, forHeaven's sake, madame, do not overwhelm me with this lastinfliction."

"A short time since, M. Fouquet, you were wanting injudgment; now you are wanting in feeling."

Fouquet pressed his clenched hand upon his breast, heavingwith emotion, saying: "Overwhelm me, madame for I havenothing to reply."

"I offered you my friendship, M. Fouquet."

"Yes, madame, and you limited yourself to that."

"And what I am now doing is the act of a friend."

"No doubt it is."

"And you reject this mark of my friendship?"

"I do reject it."

"Monsieur Fouquet, look at me," said the marquise, withglistening eyes, "I now offer you my love."

"Oh, madame," exclaimed Fouquet.

"I have loved you for a long while past; women, like men,have a false delicacy at times. For a long time past I haveloved you, but would not confess it. Well, then, you haveimplored this love on your knees, and I have refused you; Iwas blind, as you were a little while since; but as it wasmy love that you sought, it is my love I now offer you."

"Oh! madame, you overwhelm me beneath a load of happiness."

"Will you be happy, then, if I am yours - entirely?"

"It will be the supremest happiness for me."

"Take me, then. If, however, for your sake I sacrifice aprejudice, do you, for mine, sacrifice a scruple."

"Do not tempt me."

"Do not refuse me."

"Think seriously of what you are proposing."

"Fouquet, but one word. Let it be `No,' and I open thisdoor," and she pointed to the door which led into thestreets, "and you will never see me again. Let that word be`Yes,' and I am yours entirely."

"Elsie! Elsie! But this coffer?"

"Contains my dowry."

"It is your ruin," exclaimed Fouquet, turning over the goldand papers; "there must be a million here."

"Yes, my jewels, for which I care no longer if you do notlove me, and for which, equally, I care no longer if youlove me as I love you."

"This is too much," exclaimed Fouquet. "I yield, I yield,even were it only to consecrate so much devotion. I acceptthe dowry."

"And take the woman with it." said the: marquise, throwingherself into his arms.