t, of
setting at liberty and then imprisoning again, the complications arising
from the strong likeness in question--had at last found a very proper
_denouement_. Baisemeaux even thought he had remarked that D'Herblay
himself was not altogether dissatisfied at it.

"And then, really," said Baisemeaux to his next in command, "an
ordinary prisoner is already unhappy enough in being a prisoner; he
suffers quite enough indeed to induce one to hope charitably enough that
his death may not be far distant. With still greater reason, then, when
the prisoner has gone mad, and might bite and make a terrible
disturbance in the Bastille; why, in that case, it is not simply an act
of mere charity to wish him dead; it would be almost a good and even
commendable action, quietly to put him out of his misery."

And the good-natured governor thereupon sat down to his late breakfast.

CHAPTER XCIII.

THE SHADOW OF M. FOUQUET.

D'Artagnan, still confused and oppressed by the conversation he had just
had with the king, could not resist asking himself if he were really in
possession of his senses; if he were really and truly at Vaux; if he,
D'Artagnan, were really the captain of the musketeers and M. Fouquet the
owner of the chateau in which Louis XIV. was at that moment partaking of
his hospitality. These reflections were not those of a drunken man,
although everything was in prodigal profusion at Vaux, and the
surintendant's wines had met with a distinguished reception at the fete.
The Gascon, however, was a man of calm self-possession; and no sooner
did he touch his bright steel blade, than he knew how to adopt morally
the cold, keen weapon as his guide of action. "Well," he said, as he
quitted the royal apartment, "I seem now to be mixed up historically
with the destinies of the king and of the minister; it will be written,
that M. d'Artagnan, a younger son of a Gascon family, placed his hand on
the shoulder of M. Nicolas Fouquet, the surintendant of the finances of
France. My descendants, if I have any, will flatter themselves with the
distinction which this arrest will confer, just as the members of the De
Luynes family have done with regard to the estates of the poor Marechal
d'Ancre. But the question is, to execute the king's directions in a
proper manner. Any man would know how to say to M. Fouquet, 'Your sword,
monsieur.' But it is not every one who would be able to take care of M.
Fouquet without others knowings anyth