Christian King and of the oldest son of the
Church, ought to have occupied his attention. He returned to the
chateau, and as the promenade was fixed for mid-day only, and it was at
present just ten o'clock, he set to work most desperately with Colbert
and Lyonne. But even while he worked, Louis went from the table to the
window, inasmuch as the window looked out upon Madame's pavilion; he
could see M. Fouquet in the courtyard, to whom the courtiers, since the
favor shown toward him on the previous evening, paid greater attention
than ever. The king, instinctively, on noticing Fouquet, turned toward
Colbert, who was smiling, and seemed full of benevolence and delight, a
state of feeling which had arisen from the very moment one of his
secretaries had entered and handed him a pocket-book, which he had put
unopened into his pocket. But, as there was always something sinister at
the bottom of any delight expressed by Colbert, Louis preferred of the
smiles of the two men that of Fouquet. He beckoned to the surintendant
to come up, and then, turning toward Lyonne and Colbert, he said:
"Finish this matter, place it on my desk, and I will read it at my
leisure." And he left the room. At the sign the king had made to him,
Fouquet had hastened up the staircase, while Aramis, who was with the
surintendant, quietly retired among the group of courtiers, and
disappeared without having been even observed by the king. The king and
Fouquet met at the top of the staircase.

"Sire," said Fouquet, remarking the gracious manner in which Louis was
about to receive him, "your majesty has overwhelmed me with kindness
during the last few days. It is not a youthful monarch, but a being of a
higher order, who reigns over France--one whom pleasure, happiness, and
love acknowledge as their master." The king colored. The compliment,
although flattering, was not the less somewhat direct. Louis conducted
Fouquet to a small room which separated his study from his sleeping
apartment.

"Do you know why I summoned you?" said the king, as he seated himself
upon the edge of the window, so as not to lose anything that might be
passing in the gardens which fronted the opposite entrance to Madame's
pavilion.

"No, sire," replied Fouquet; "but I am sure for something agreeable, if
I am to judge from your majesty's gracious smile."

"You are mistaken, then."

"I, sire?"

"For I summoned you, on the contrary, to pick a quarrel with you."

"With me, sire