his own
apartment, and leaving La Valliere to ask herself whether the
surintendant had not lost his senses.

"Well!" inquired Aramis, who was impatiently waiting Fouquet's return,
"are you satisfied with the favorite?"

"Enchanted," replied Fouquet; "she is a woman full of intelligence and
fine feeling."

"She did not get angry, then?"

"Far from that, she did not even seem to understand."

"To understand what?"

"To understand that I had written to her."

"She must, however, have understood you sufficiently to give the letter
back to you, for I presume she returned it."

"Not at all."

"At least, you satisfied yourself that she had burned it."

"My dear Monsieur d'Herblay, I have been playing at cross purposes for
more than an hour, and, however amusing it may be, I begin to have had
enough of this game. So understand me thoroughly: the girl pretended not
to understand what I was saying to her: she denied having received any
letter; therefore, having positively denied its receipt, she was unable
either to return or burn it."

"Oh! oh!" said Aramis, with uneasiness, "what is that you say?"

"I say that she swore most positively she had not received any letter."

"That is too much. And you not insist?"

"On the contrary, I did insist, almost impertinently so, even."

"And she persisted in her denial?"

"Unhesitatingly."

"And she did not contradict herself once?"

"Not once."

"But, in that case, then, you have left our letter in her hands?"

"How could I do otherwise?"

"Oh! it was a great mistake."

"What the deuce would you have done in my place?"

"One could not force her, certainly, but it is very embarrassing; such a
letter ought not remain in existence against us."

"Oh! the young girl's disposition is generosity itself; I looked at her
eyes, and I can read eyes well."

"You think she can be relied upon?"

"From my heart I do."

"Well, I think we are mistaken."

"In what way?"

"I think that, in point of fact, as she herself told you, she did not
receive the letter."

"What! do you suppose--?"

"I suppose that, from some motive, of which we know nothing, your man
did not deliver the letter to her."

Fouquet rang the bell. A servant appeared. "Send Toby here," he said. A
moment afterward a man made his appearance, with an anxious restless
look, shrewd expression of the mouth, with short arms, and his back
somewhat bent. Aramis fixed a penetrating look upon him.

"Will