retired; but had scarcely
reached the corridor at the extremity of which Fouquet was waiting for
him, when he was recalled by the king's bell.

"Did he not appear astonished?" asked the king.

"Who, sire?"

"_Fouquet_," replied the king, without saying monsieur, a peculiarity
which confirmed the captain of the musketeers in his suspicions.

"No, sire," replied he.

"That's well!" And a second time Louis dismissed D'Artagnan.

Fouquet had not quitted the terrace where he had been left by his guide.
He reperused his note, conceived thus:

"Something is being contrived against you. Perhaps they will not dare to
carry it out at the castle; it will be on your return home. The house
is already surrounded by musketeers. Do not enter. A white horse is in
waiting for you behind the esplanade!"

Fouquet recognized the writing and zeal of Gourville. Not being willing
that, if any evil happened to himself, this paper should compromise a
faithful friend, the surintendant was busy tearing it into a thousand
morsels, spread about by the wind from the balustrade of the terrace.
D'Artagnan found him watching the snowflake fluttering of the last
scraps in space.

"Monsieur," said he, "the king awaits you."

Fouquet walked with a deliberate step along the little corridor, where
MM. de Brienne and Rose were at work, whilst the Duc de Saint-Aignan,
seated on a chair, likewise in the corridor, appeared to be waiting
for orders, with feverish impatience, his sword between his legs. It
appeared strange to Fouquet that MM. Brienne, Rose, and de Saint-Aignan,
in general so attentive and obsequious, should scarcely take the least
notice, as he, the surintendant, passed. But how could he expect to find
it otherwise among courtiers, he whom the king no longer called anything
but _Fouquet?_ He raised his head, determined to look every one and
everything bravely in the face, and entered the king's apartment, where
a little bell, which we already know, had already announced him to his
majesty.

The king, without rising, nodded to him, and with interest: "Well! how
are you, Monsieur Fouquet?" said he.

"I am in a high fever," replied the surintendant; "but I am at the
king's service."

"That is well; the States assemble to-morrow; have you a speech ready?"

Fouquet looked at the king with astonishment. "I have not, sire,"
replied he; "but I will improvise one. I am too well acquainted with
affairs to feel any embarrassment. I have on