lted ceiling the happy, as well as disagreeable, dreams with which
Morpheus affects kings as well as other men. Everything that sleep gives
birth to that is lovely, its perfumes, its flowers and nectar, the wild
voluptuousness or deep repose of the senses, had the painter enriched
with his frescoes. It was a composition as soft and pleasing in one part
as dark and gloomy and terrible in another. The poisoned chalice, the
glittering dagger suspended over the head of the sleeper; wizards and
phantoms with hideous masks, those half dim shadows, more terrific than
the brightness of flame or the blackness of night; these, and such as
these, he had made the companions of his more pleasing pictures. No
sooner had the king entered the room than a cold shiver seemed to pass
through him, and on Fouquet asking him the cause of it, the king
replied, as pale as death:

"I am sleepy, that is all."

"Does your majesty wish for your attendants at once."

"No; I have to talk with a few persons first," said the king. "Will you
have the goodness to tell M. Colbert I wish to see him." Fouquet bowed
and left the room.

CHAPTER LXXXVIII.

A GASCON, AND A GASCON AND A HALF.

D'Artagnan had determined to lose no time, and in fact he never was in
the habit of doing so. After having inquired for Aramis, he had
looked for him in every direction until he had succeeded in finding him.
Besides, no sooner had the king entered into Vaux, than Aramis had
retired to his own room, meditating, doubtlessly, some new piece of
gallant attention for his majesty's amusement. D'Artagnan desired the
servants to announce him, and found on the second story, (in a beautiful
room called the Blue Room, on account of the color of its hangings) the
bishop of Vannes in company with Porthos and several of the modern
Epicureans. Aramis came forward to embrace his friend, and offered him
the best seat. As it was after awhile generally remarked among those
present that the musketeer was reserved, and wished for an opportunity
for conversing secretly with Aramis, the Epicureans took their leave.
Porthos, however, did not stir; for true it is that having dined
exceedingly well, he was fast asleep in his armchair; and the freedom of
conversation therefore was not interrupted by a third person. Porthos
had a deep, harmonious snore, and people might talk in the midst of its
loud bass without fear of disturbing him. D'Artagnan felt that he was
called upon to open t