generally, had received
more invitations than he had requested audiences. In many houses, the
presence of the superintendent had been significant of fortune; in many
hearts, of love. Fouquet entered the apartment with a manner full of
respect, presenting himself with that ease and gracefulness of manner
which was the distinctive characteristic of the men of eminence of that
period, and which at the present day seems no longer to be understood,
even through the interpretation of the portraits of the period, in
which the painter has endeavored to recall them to being. La Valliere
acknowledged the ceremonious salutation which Fouquet addressed to her
by a gentle inclination of the head, and motioned him to a seat. But
Fouquet, with a bow, said, "I will not sit down until you have pardoned
me."

"I?" asked La Valliere, "pardon what?"

Fouquet fixed a most piercing look upon the young girl, and fancied he
could perceive in her face nothing but the most unaffected surprise. "I
observe," he said, "that you have as much generosity as intelligence,
and I read in your eyes the forgiveness I solicit. A pardon pronounced
by your lips is insufficient for me, and I need the forgiveness of your
heart and mind."

"Upon my honor, monsieur," said La Valliere, "I assure you most
positively I do not understand your meaning."

"Again, that is a delicacy on your part which charms me," replied
Fouquet, "and I see you do not wish me to blush before you."

"Blush! blush before _me!_ Why should you blush?"

"Can I have deceived myself," said Fouquet; "and can I have been happy
enough not to have offended you by my conduct towards you?"

"Really, monsieur," said La Valliere, shrugging her shoulders, "you
speak in enigmas, and I suppose I am too ignorant to understand you."

"Be it so," said Fouquet; "I will not insist. Tell me, only, I entreat
you, that I may rely upon your full and complete forgiveness."

"I have but one reply to make to you, monsieur," said La Valliere,
somewhat impatiently, "and I hope that will satisfy you. If I knew the
wrong you have done me, I would forgive you, and I now do so with still
greater reason since I am ignorant of the wrong you allude to."

Fouquet bit his lips, as Aramis would have done. "In that case," he
said, "I may hope, that, notwithstanding what has happened, our good
understanding will remain undisturbed, and that you will kindly confer
the favor upon me of believing in my respectful friends