him
change his tone, and say, with terrified politeness, "If monsieur wishes
to speak to M. le surintendant, he must go to the ante-chambers; these
are the offices, where monseigneur never comes."

"Oh! very well! Where are they?" replied D'Artagnan.

"On the other side of the court," said the clerk, delighted to be free.
D'Artagnan crossed the court, and fell in with a crowd of servants.

"Monseigneur sees nobody at this hour," he was answered by a fellow
carrying a vermeil dish, in which were three pheasants and twelve
quails.

"Tell him," said the captain, laying hold of the servant by the end
of his dish, "that I am M. d'Artagnan, captain of his majesty's
musketeers."

The fellow uttered a cry of surprise, and disappeared; D'Artagnan
following him slowly. He arrived just in time to meet M. Pelisson in
the ante-chamber: the latter, a little pale, came hastily out of the
dining-room to learn what was the matter. D'Artagnan smiled.

"There is nothing unpleasant, Monsieur Pelisson; only a little order to
receive the money for."

"Ah!" said Fouquet's friend, breathing more freely; and he took the
captain by the hand, and, dragging him behind him, led him into the
dining-room, where a number of friends surrounded the surintendant,
placed in the center, and buried in the cushions of a _fauteuil_. There
were assembled all the Epicureans who so lately at Vaux had done the
honors of the mansion of wit and money in aid of M. Fouquet. Joyous
friends, for the most part faithful, they had not fled their protector
at the approach of the storm, and, in spite of the threatening heavens,
in spite of the trembling earth, they remained there, smiling, cheerful,
as devoted in misfortune as they had been in prosperity. On the left
of the surintendant sat Madame de Belliere; on his right was Madame
Fouquet; as if braving the laws of the world, and putting all vulgar
reasons of propriety to silence, the two protecting angels of this
man united to offer, at the moment of the crisis, the support of
their twined arms. Madame de Belliere was pale, trembling, and full of
respectful attentions for madame la surintendante, who, with one hand on
her husband's, was looking anxiously towards the door by which Pelisson
had gone out to bring D'Artagnan. The captain entered at first full
of courtesy, and afterwards of admiration, when, with his infallible
glance, he had divined as well as taken in the expression of every face.
Fouquet raised h