him, but even
into the very depth of the wood.

"Monsieur Fouquet," he said, when he had quite satisfied himself that
they were alone, "we must get back, at any cost, that letter you wrote
to La Valliere."

"That will be easy enough," said Fouquet, "if my servant has not given
it to her."

"In any case it must be had, do you understand?"

"Yes. The king is in love with the girl, you mean?"

"Deeply, and what is worse is, that on her side, the girl is
passionately attached to him."

"As much as to say that we must change our tactics, I suppose?"

"Not a doubt of it; you have no time to lose. You must see La Valliere,
and, without thinking any more of becoming her lover, which is out of
the question, must declare yourself her most devoted friend and her most
humble servant."

"I will do so," replied Fouquet, "and without the slightest feeling of
disinclination, for she seems a good-hearted girl."

"Or a very clever one," said Aramis; "but in that case, all the greater
reason." Then he added, after a moment's pause, "If I am not mistaken,
that girl will become the strongest passion of the king's life. Let us
return to our carriage, and, as fast as possible, to the chateau."

Chapter LXIII. Toby.

Two hours after the superintendent's carriage had set off by Aramis's
directions, conveying them both towards Fontainebleau with the fleetness
of the clouds the last breath of the tempest was hurrying across the
face of heaven, La Valliere was closeted in her own apartment, with a
simple muslin wrapper round her, having just finished a slight repast,
which was placed upon a marble table. Suddenly the door was opened,
and a servant entered to announce M. Fouquet, who had called to request
permission to pay his respects to her. She made him repeat the message
twice over, for the poor girl only knew M. Fouquet by name, and could
not conceive what business she could possibly have with a superintendent
of finances. However, as he might represent the king--and, after the
conversation we have recorded, it was very likely--she glanced at her
mirror, drew out still more the ringlets of her hair, and desired him
to be admitted. La Valliere could not, however, refrain from a certain
feeling of uneasiness. A visit from the superintendent was not an
ordinary event in the life of any woman attached to the court. Fouquet,
so notorious for his generosity, his gallantry, and his sensitive
delicacy of feeling with regard to women