ngs being raised up, when one is, one's self, far above all kings
and thrones, of this world at least."

"Your power is infinite, then?" cried Fouquet.

"I have told you so already, and I repeat it," replied Aramis, with
glistening eyes and trembling lips.

Fouquet threw himself back in his chair, and buried his face in
his hands. Aramis looked at him for a moment, as the angel of human
destinies might have looked upon a simple mortal.

"Adieu," he said to him, "sleep undisturbed, and send your letter to La
Valliere. To-morrow we shall see each other again."

"Yes, to-morrow," said Fouquet, shaking his hands like a man returning
to his senses. "But where shall we see each other?"

"At the king's promenade, if you like."

"Agreed." And they separated.

Chapter LXI. The Storm.

The dawn of the following day was dark and gloomy, and as every one knew
that the promenade was down in the royal programme, every one's gaze, as
his eyes were opened, was directed towards the sky. Just above the tops
of the trees a thick, suffocating vapor seemed to remain suspended, with
barely sufficient power to rise thirty feet above the ground under the
influence of the sun's rays, which was scarcely visible as a faint spot
of lesser darkness through the veil of heavy mist. No dew had fallen
in the morning; the turf was dried up for want of moisture, the flowers
withered. The birds sang less inspiringly than usual upon the boughs,
which remained motionless as the limbs of corpses. The strange confused
and animated murmurs, which seemed born and to exist in virtue of the
sun, that respiration of nature which is unceasingly heard amidst all
other sounds, could not be heard now, and never had the silence been so
profound.

The king had noticed the cheerless aspect of the heavens as he
approached the window immediately upon rising. But as all the
necessary directions had been given respecting the promenade, and
every preparation had been made accordingly, and as, which was far
more imperious than anything else, Louis relied upon this promenade to
satisfy the cravings of his imagination, and we will even already say,
the clamorous desires of his heart--the king unhesitatingly decided
that the appearance of the heavens had nothing whatever to do with the
matter; that the promenade was arranged, and that, whatever the state of
the weather, the promenade should take place. Besides, there are
certain terrestrial sovereigns who seem to