Hark! the king calls. He is
going to issue an order. I have not influenced him, have I? Listen."

The king, in fact, was calling his secretaries. "Monsieur d'Artagnan,"
said he.

"I am here, sire."

"Give twenty of your musketeers to M. de Saint-Aignan, to form a guard
for M. Fouquet."

D'Artagnan and Colbert exchanged looks. "And from Angers," continued the
king, "they will conduct the prisoner to the Bastille in Paris."

"You were right," said the captain to the minister.

"Saint-Aignan," continued the king, "you will have any one shot who
shall attempt to speak privately with M. Fouquet during the journey."

"But myself, sire?" said the duke.

"You, monsieur, you will only speak to him in the presence of the
musketeers." The duke bowed, and departed to execute his commission.

D'Artagnan was about to retire, likewise; but the king stopped him.

"Monsieur," said he, "you will go immediately, and take possession of
the isle and fief of Belle-Isle-en-Mer."

"Yes, sire. Alone?"

"You will take a sufficient number of troops to prevent delay, in case
the place should be contumacious."

A murmur of adulatory incredulity arose from the group of courtiers.
"That is to be done," said D'Artagnan.

"I saw the place in my infancy," resumed the king, "and I do not wish to
see it again. You have heard me? Go, monsieur, and do not return without
the keys of the place."

Colbert went up to D'Artagnan. "A commission which, if you carry it out
well," said he, "will be worth a marechal's baton to you."

"Why do you employ the words, 'if you carry it out well'?"

"Because it is difficult."

"Ah! in what respect?"

"You have friends in Belle-Isle, M. d'Artagnan; and it is not an easy
thing for men like you to march over the bodies of their friends to
obtain success."

D'Artagnan hung down his head, while Colbert returned to the king. A
quarter of an hour after, the captain received the written order from
the king to blow up the fortress of Belle-Isle, in case of resistance,
with the power of life and death over all the inhabitants or refugees,
and an injunction not to allow one to escape.

"Colbert was right," thought D'Artagnan; "my baton of a marechal of
France will cost the lives of my two friends. Only they seem to forget
that my friends are not more stupid than the birds, and that they will
not wait for the hand of the fowler to extend their wings. I will show
them that hand so plainly, that they will have