"Colbert?"

"Yes; leave me, D'Herblay; I do not wish that fellow to see you with me,
or he will take an aversion to _you_."

Aramis pressed his hand, saying, "What need have I of his friendship,
while you are here?"

"Yes, but I may not always be here," replied Fouquet, dejectedly.

"On that day, then, if that day should ever dawn," said Aramis,
tranquilly, "we will think over a means of dispensing with the
friendship, or of braving the dislike of M. Colbert. But tell me, my
dear Fouquet, instead of conversing with this reptile, as you did him
the honor of styling him, a conversation the need for which I do not
perceive, why do you not pay a visit, if not to the king, at least to
Madame?"

"To Madame," said the superintendent, his mind occupied by his
_souvenirs_. "Yes, certainly, to Madame."

"You remember," continued Aramis, "that we have been told that Madame
stands high in favor during the last two or three days. It enters into
your policy, and forms part of our plans, that you should assiduously
devote yourself to his majesty's friends. It is a means of counteracting
the growing influence of M. Colbert. Present yourself, therefore, as
soon as possible to Madame, and, for our sakes, treat this ally with
consideration."

"But," said Fouquet, "are you quite sure that it is upon her that the
king has his eyes fixed at the present moment?"

"If the needle has turned, it must be since the morning. You know I have
my police."

"Very well! I will go there at once, and, at all events, I shall have
a means of introduction in the shape of a magnificent pair of antique
cameos set with diamonds."

"I have seen them, and nothing could be more costly and regal."

At this moment they were interrupted by a servant followed by a courier.
"For you, monseigneur," said the courier aloud, presenting a letter to
Fouquet.

"For your grace," said the lackey in a low tone, handing Aramis a
letter. And as the lackey carried a torch in his hand, he placed himself
between the superintendent and the bishop of Vannes, so that both of
them could read at the same time. As Fouquet looked at the fine and
delicate writing on the envelope, he started with delight. Those who
love, or who are beloved, will understand his anxiety in the first
place, and his happiness in the next. He hastily tore open the letter,
which, however, contained only these words: "It is but an hour since
I quitted you, it is an age since I told you how much I