ng: he was enthroned still upon that funeral
couch, as upon a velvet armchair; he had not abdicated one title of his
majesty. God, who had not punished him, cannot, will not punish me, who
have done nothing." A strange sound attracted the young man's attention.
He looked round him, and saw on the mantel-shelf, just below an enormous
crucifix, coarsely painted in fresco on the wall, a rat of enormous size
engaged in nibbling a piece of dry bread, but fixing all the time, an
intelligent and inquiring look upon the new occupant of the cell. The
king could not resist a sudden impulse of fear and disgust: he moved
back towards the door, uttering a loud cry; and as if he but needed this
cry, which escaped from his breast almost unconsciously, to recognize
himself, Louis knew that he was alive and in full possession of his
natural senses. "A prisoner!" he cried. "I--I, a prisoner!" He looked
round him for a bell to summon some one to him. "There are no bells in
the Bastile," he said, "and it is in the Bastile I am imprisoned. In
what way can I have been made a prisoner? It must have been owing to a
conspiracy of M. Fouquet. I have been drawn to Vaux, as to a snare. M.
Fouquet cannot be acting alone in this affair. His agent--That voice
that I but just now heard was M. d'Herblay's; I recognized it. Colbert
was right, then. But what is Fouquet's object? To reign in my place and
stead?--Impossible. Yet who knows!" thought the king, relapsing into
gloom again. "Perhaps my brother, the Duc d'Orleans, is doing that which
my uncle wished to do during the whole of his life against my father.
But the queen?--My mother, too? And La Valliere? Oh! La Valliere, she
will have been abandoned to Madame. Dear, dear girl! Yes, it is--it must
be so. They have shut her up as they have me. We are separated forever!"
And at this idea of separation the poor lover burst into a flood of
tears and sobs and groans.

"There is a governor in this place," the king continued, in a fury of
passion; "I will speak to him, I will summon him to me."

He called--no voice replied to his. He seized hold of his chair, and
hurled it against the massive oaken door. The wood resounded against the
door, and awakened many a mournful echo in the profound depths of the
staircase; but from a human creature, none.

This was a fresh proof for the king of the slight regard in which he was
held at the Bastile. Therefore, when his first fit of anger had passed
away, having rem