ed by me, the whole plan seems to me to have miscarried."

"You have unmasked this false prince also?"

"No, I have not seen him."

"Whom have you seen, then?"

"The leader of the enterprise, not that unhappy young man; the latter is
merely an instrument, destined through his whole life to wretchedness, I
plainly perceive."

"Most certainly."

"It is M. l'Abbe d'Herblay, Eveque de Vannes."

"Your friend?"

"He was my friend, sire," replied Fouquet, nobly.

"An unfortunate circumstance for you," said the king, in a less generous
tone of voice.

"Such friendships, sire, had nothing dishonorable in them so long as I
was ignorant of the crime."

"You should have foreseen it."

"If I am guilty, I place myself in your majesty's hands."

"Ah! Monsieur Fouquet, it was not that I meant," returned the king,
sorry to have shown the bitterness of his thought in such a manner.
"Well! I assure you that, notwithstanding the mask with which the
villain covered his face, I had something like a vague suspicion that he
was the very man. But with this chief of the enterprise there was a
man of prodigious strength, the one who menaced me with a force almost
herculean; what is he?"

"It must be his friend the Baron du Vallon, formerly one of the
musketeers."

"The friend of D'Artagnan? the friend of the Comte de la Fere? Ah!"
exclaimed the king, as he paused at the name of the latter, "we must not
forget the connection that existed between the conspirators and M. de
Bragelonne."

"Sire, sire, do not go too far. M. de la Fere is the most honorable man
in France. Be satisfied with those whom I deliver up to you."

"With those whom you deliver up to me, you say? Very good, for you will
deliver up those who are guilty to me."

"What does your majesty understand by that?" inquired Fouquet.

"I understand," replied the king, "that we shall soon arrive at Vaux
with a large body of troops, that we will lay violent hands upon that
nest of vipers, and that not a soul shall escape."

"Your majesty will put these men to death!" cried Fouquet.

"To the very meanest of them."

"Oh! sire."

"Let us understand one another, Monsieur Fouquet," said the king,
haughtily. "We no longer live in times when assassination was the only
and the last resource kings held in reservation at extremity. No, Heaven
be praised! I have parliaments who sit and judge in my name, and I have
scaffolds on which supreme authority is carried out."

Fo