e will reach my chateau of Belle-Isle, where I
have given him a safe asylum."

"That may be! But you forget that you have made me a present of
Belle-Isle."

"But not for you to arrest my friends."

"You take it back again, then?"

"As far as that goes--yes, sire."

"My musketeers will capture it, and the affair will be at an end."

"Neither your musketeers, nor your whole army could take Belle-Isle,"
said Fouquet, coldly. "Belle-Isle is impregnable."

The king became perfectly livid; a lightning flash seemed to dart from
his eyes. Fouquet felt that he was lost, but he was not one to shrink
when the voice of honor spoke loudly within him. He bore the king's
wrathful gaze; the latter swallowed his rage, and after a few moments'
silence, said, "Are we going to return to Vaux?"

"I am at your majesty's orders," replied Fouquet, with a low bow; "but I
think that your majesty can hardly dispense with changing your clothes
previous to appearing before your court."

"We shall pass by the Louvre," said the king. "Come." And they left the
prison, passing before Baisemeaux, who looked completely bewildered as
he saw Marchiali once more leave; and, in his helplessness, tore out the
few remaining hairs he had left. It was perfectly true, however, that
Fouquet wrote and gave him an authority for the prisoner's release, and
that the king wrote beneath it, "Seen and approved. Louis;" a piece of
madness that Baisemeaux, incapable of putting two ideas together,
acknowledged, by giving himself a terrible blow with his fist on his
jaws.

CHAPTER XCVIII.

THE FALSE KING.

In the meantime, usurped royalty was playing out its part bravely at
Vaux. Philippe gave orders that for his _petit lever_, the _grandes
entrees_, already prepared to appear before the king, should be
introduced. He determined to give this order notwithstanding the absence
of M. d'Herblay, who did not return, and our readers know for what
reason. But the prince, not believing that absence could be prolonged,
wished, as all rash spirits do, to try his valor and his fortune when
far from all protection and all counsel. Another reason urged him to
this--Anne of Austria was about to appear; the guilty mother was about
to stand in the presence of her sacrificed son. Philippe was not
willing, if he had a weakness, to render the man a witness of it before
whom he was bound thenceforth to display so much strength. Philippe
opened his folding doors, and seve