rning."

"Oh! no, no!" cried the superintendent once again; "you are all
deceived, and deceive me in my turn; Lyodot came to see me only the
day before yesterday; only three days ago I received a present of some
Syracuse wine from poor D'Eymeris."

"What does that prove?" replied Gourville, "except that the chamber of
justice has been secretly assembled, has deliberated in the absence of
the accused, and that the whole proceeding was complete when they were
arrested."

"What! are they, then, arrested?"

"No doubt they are."

"But where, when, and how have they been arrested?"

"Lyodot, yesterday at daybreak; D'Eymeris, the day before yesterday, in
the evening, as he was returning from the house of his mistress; their
disappearance had disturbed nobody; but at length M. Colbert all at
once raised the mask, and caused the affair to be published; it is
being cried by sound of trumpet, at this moment in Paris, and, in truth,
monseigneur, there is scarcely anybody but yourself ignorant of the
event."

Fouquet began to walk about his chamber with an uneasiness that became
more and more serious.

"What do you decide upon, monseigneur?" said Gourville.

"If it really were as you say, I would go to the king," cried Fouquet.
"But as I go to the Louvre, I will pass by the Hotel de Ville. We shall
see if the sentence is signed."

"Incredulity! thou art the pest of all great minds," said Gourville,
shrugging his shoulders.

"Gourville!"

"Yes," continued he, "and incredulity! thou ruinest, as contagion
destroys the most robust health, that is to say, in an instant."

"Let us go," cried Fouquet; "desire the door to be opened, Gourville."

"Be cautious," said the latter, "the Abbe Fouquet is there."

"Ah! my brother," replied Fouquet, in a tone of annoyance, "he is there,
is he? he knows all the ill news, then, and is rejoiced to bring it to
me, as usual. The devil! if my brother is there, my affairs are bad,
Gourville; why did you not tell me that sooner: I should have been the
more readily convinced."

"'Monseigneur calumniates him," said Gourville, laughing, "if he is
come, it is not with a bad intention."

"What, do you excuse him?" cried Fouquet; "a fellow without a heart,
without ideas; a devourer of wealth."

"He knows you are rich."

"And would ruin me."

"No, but he would like to have your purse. That is all."

"Enough! enough! A hundred thousand crowns per month, during two years.
Corbleu! it is