de of the black horse, which he had just managed to come up to.

"We will go on foot--destiny wills it so--the walk will be pleasant,"
said Fouquet, passing his arm through that of D'Artagnan.

"Mordioux!" cried the latter, with a fixed eye, a contracted brow, and a
swelling heart--"A disgraceful day!"

They walked slowly the four leagues which separated them from the little
wood behind which waited the carriage with the escort. When Fouquet
perceived that sinister machine, he said to D'Artagnan, who cast down
his eyes as ashamed of Louis XIV., "There is an idea which is not that
of a brave man, Captain d'Artagnan; it is not yours. What are these
gratings for?" said he.

"To prevent your throwing letters out."

"Ingenious!"

"But you can speak, if you cannot write," said D'Artagnan.

"Can I speak to you?"

"Why--certainly, if you wish to do so."

Fouquet reflected for a moment, then, looking the captain full in the
face, "One single word," said he; "will you remember it?"

"I will not forget it."

"Will you speak it to whom I wish?"

"I will."

"Saint-Mande," articulated Fouquet, in a low voice.

"Well! and for whom?"

"For Madame de Belliere or Pellisson."

"It shall be done."

The carriage passed through Nantes, and took the route of Angers.

CHAPTER CXV.

IN WHICH THE SQUIRREL FALLS--IN WHICH THE ADDER FLIES.

It was two o'clock in the afternoon. The king, full of impatience, went
to his cabinet on the terrace, and kept opening the door of the corridor
to see what his secretaries were doing. M. Colbert, seated in the same
place M. de Saint-Aignan had so long occupied in the morning, was
chatting, in a low voice, with M. de Brienne. The king opened the door
suddenly, and addressing them, "What do you say?" asked he.

"We were speaking of the first sitting of the States," said M. de
Brienne, rising.

"Very well," replied the king, and returned to his room.

Five minutes after, the summons of the bell recalled Rose, whose hour it
was.

"Have you finished your copies?" asked the king.

"Not yet, sire."

"See, then, if M. d'Artagnan is returned."

"Not yet, sire."

"It is very strange!" murmured the king. "Call M. Colbert."

Colbert entered: he had been expecting this moment all the morning.

"Monsieur Colbert," said the king, very sharply; "it must be ascertained
what is become of M. d'Artagnan."

Colbert, in his calm voice, replied, "Where would your majesty desire
him t