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 was composed, comprised everything the king liked and generally
preferred to anything else. Louis had no excuse--he, indeed, who had the
keenest appetite in his kingdom--for saying that he was not hungry.
Nay, M. Fouquet did even better still; he certainly, in obedience to the
king's expressed desire, seated himself at the table, but as soon as
the soups were served, he arose and personally waited on the king, while
Madame Fouquet stood behind the queen-mother's armchair. The disdain
of Juno and the sulky fits of temper of Jupiter could not resist this
excess of kindly feeling and polite attention. The queen ate a biscuit
dipped in a glass of San-Lucar wine; and the king ate of everything,
saying to M. Fouquet: "It is impossible, monsieur le surintendant, to
dine better anywhere." Whereupon the whole court began, on all sides, to
devour the dishes spread before them with such enthusiasm that it looked
as though a cloud of Egyptian locusts was settling down on green and
growing crops.

As soon, however, as his hunger was appeased, the king became morose
and overgloomed again; the more so in proportion to the satisfaction he
fancied he had previously manifested, and particularly on account of
the deferential manner which his courtiers had shown towards Fouquet.
D'Artagnan, who ate a good deal and drank but 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 king expressed a wish not to lose the
promenade. The park was illuminated; the moon, too, as if she had placed
herself at the orders of the lord of Vaux, silvered the trees and
lake with her own bright and quasi-phosphorescent light. The air was
strangely soft and balmy; the daintily shell-gravelled walks through
the thickly set avenues yielded luxuriously to the feet. The _fete_ was
complete in every respect, for the king, having met La Valliere in one
of the winding paths of the wood, was able to press 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 enchantments stole smoothly on. The king
having requested to be shown to his room, there