he lodgings of the surintendant, to pay his respectful compliments to
him; and although the minister suffered from fever, although he was in
such pain as to be bathed in sweat, he would receive M. d'Artagnan, who
was delighted with that honor, as will be seen by the conversation they
had together.

CHAPTER CXII.

FRIENDLY ADVICE.

Fouquet was gone to bed, like a man who clings to life, and who
economizes as much as possible that slender tissue of existence of which
the shocks and angles of this world so quickly wear out the irreparable
tenuity. D'Artagnan appeared at the door of this chamber, and was
saluted by the surintendant with a very affable "good day."

"Bon jour! monseigneur," replied the musketeer, "how did you get through
the journey?"

"Tolerably well, thank you."

"And the fever?"

"But sadly. I drink, as you see. I am scarcely arrived, and I have
already levied a contribution of tisane upon Nantes."

"You should sleep first, monseigneur."

"Eh! corbleu! my dear Monsieur d'Artagnan, I should be very glad to
sleep."

"Who hinders you?"

"Why, you, in the first place."

"I? Ah, monseigneur!"

"No doubt you do. Is it at Nantes as it was at Paris, do you not come in
the king's name?"

"For Heaven's sake, monseigneur," replied the captain, "leave the king
alone! The day on which I shall come on the part of the king, for the
purpose you mean, take my word for it, I will not leave you long in
doubt. You will see me place my hand on my sword, according to the
ordonnance, and you will hear me say at once in my ceremonial voice,
'Monseigneur, in the name of the king, I arrest you!'"

"You promise me that frankness?" said the surintendant.

"Upon my honor! But we are not come to that, believe me."

"What makes you think that, M. d'Artagnan? For my part, I think quite
the contrary."

"I have heard speak of nothing of the kind," replied D'Artagnan.

"Eh! eh!" said Fouquet.

"Indeed, no. You are an agreeable man, in spite of your fever. The king
ought not, cannot help loving you, at the bottom of his heart."

Fouquet's face implied doubt. "But M. Colbert?" said he; "does M.
Colbert love me as much as you say?"

"I don't speak of M. Colbert," replied D'Artagnan. "He is an exceptional
man, is that M. Colbert. He does not love you; that is very possible;
but, mordioux! the squirrel can guard himself against the adder with
very little trouble."

"Do you know that you are speaking to me