same have avoided all publicity,
all disturbance, all opposition; but there would also have been no
warning for M. Fouquet, no consideration for his feelings, none of those
delicate concessions which are shown by persons who are essentially
courteous in their natures, whenever the decisive moment may arrive. Are
you satisfied with the plan?"

"It makes me shudder."

"I thought you would not like it. It would have been very disagreeable
to have made my appearance to-morrow, without any preparation, and to
have asked you to deliver up your sword."

"Oh! monsieur, I should have died of shame and anger."

"Your gratitude is too eloquently expressed. I have not done enough to
deserve it, I assure you."

"Most certainly, monsieur, you will never get me to believe that."

"Well, then, monseigneur, if you are satisfied with what I have done,
and have somewhat recovered from the shock which I prepared you for as
much as I possibly could, let us allow the few hours that remain to pass
away undisturbed. You are harassed, and should arrange your thoughts;
I beg you, therefore, go to sleep, or pretend to go to sleep, either on
your bed, or in your bed; I will sleep in this armchair; and when I fall
asleep, my rest is so sound that a cannon would not wake me."

Fouquet smiled. "I expect, however," continued the musketeer, "the case
of a door being opened, whether a secret door, or any other; or the case
of any one going out of, or coming into, the room--for anything like
that my ear is as quick and sensitive as the ear of a mouse. Creaking
noises make me start. It arises, I suppose, from a natural antipathy to
anything of the kind. Move about as much as you like; walk up and down
in any part of the room, write, efface, destroy, burn,--nothing like
that will prevent me from going to sleep or even prevent me from
snoring, but do not touch either the key or the handle of the door, for
I should start up in a moment, and that would shake my nerves and make
me ill."

"Monsieur d'Artagnan," said Fouquet, "you are certainly the most witty
and the most courteous man I ever met with; and you will leave me only
one regret, that of having made your acquaintance so late."

D'Artagnan drew a deep sigh, which seemed to say, "Alas! you have
perhaps made it too soon." He then settled himself in his armchair,
while Fouquet, half lying on his bed and leaning on his arm, was
meditating on his misadventures. In this way, both of them, leaving