uoth he. "Heaven,
that is witness how ardently I long to make you happy, will protect me on
my journey and guard my ship. Promise me to keep off all suitors, the
number of whom will increase with your beauty. This promise, for which I
desire no other guarantee but your candour, shall sustain me in exile,
and make me count as nought my privations and my hardships."

Mademoiselle de la Beaume-le-Blanc allowed the Marquis to hope all that
he wished from her beautiful soul, and he departed, never imagining that
one could forget or set at nought so tender a love which had prompted so
hazardous an enterprise.

His journey proved thoroughly successful. He brought back with him
treasures from the New World; but of all his treasures the most precious
had disappeared. Restored once more to family and friends, he hastened
to the capital. Madame d'Orleans no longer resided at the Tuileries,
which was being enlarged by the King.

Bragelonne, in his impatience, asks everywhere for La Valliere. They
tell him that she has a charming house between Saint Germain, Lucienne,
and Versailles. He goes thither, laden with coral and pearls from the
Indies. He asks to have sight of his love. A tall Swiss repulses him,
saying that, in order to speak with Madame la Duchesse, it was absolutely
necessary to make an appointment.

At the same moment one of his friends rides past the gateway. They greet
each other, and in reply to his questioning, this friend informs him that
Mademoiselle de la Valliere is a duchess, that she is a mother, that she
is lapped in grandeur and luxury, and that she has as lover a king.

At this news, Bragelonne finds nothing further for him to do in this
world. He grasps his friend's hand, retires to a neighbouring wood, and
there, drawing his sword, plunges it into his heart,--a sad requital for
love so noble!

CHAPTER VI.

M. Fouquet.--His Mistake.--A Woman's Indiscretion May Cause the Loss of a
Great Minister.--The Castle of Vaux.--Fairy-land.--A Fearful
Awakening.--Clemency of the King.

On going out into society, I heard everybody talking everywhere about M.
Fouquet. They praised his good-nature, his affability, his talents, his
magnificence, his wit. His post as Surintendant-General, envied by a
thousand, provoked indeed a certain amount of spite; yet all such vain
efforts on the part of mediocrity to slander him troubled him but little.
My lord the Cardinal (Mazarin. D.W.) was his support, and so lon