with great anxiety.

"Our friends are lost. Colbert is conveying them to the donjon. They
crossed our path under the arcade Saint-Jean."

Pelisson, struck as by a thunderbolt, made no reply. With a single
reproach he would have killed his master. "Where is monseigneur going?"
said the footman.

"Home--to Paris. You, Pelisson, return to Saint-Mande, and bring the
Abbe Fouquet to me within an hour. Begone!"

Chapter LX. Plan of Battle.

The night was already far advanced when the Abbe Fouquet joined his
brother. Gourville had accompanied him. These three men, pale with dread
of future events, resembled less three powers of the day than three
conspirators, united by one single thought of violence. Fouquet walked
for a long time, with his eyes fixed upon the floor, striking his hands
one against the other. At length, taking courage, in the midst of a deep
sigh: "Abbe," said he, "you were speaking to me only to-day of certain
people you maintain."

"Yes, monsieur," replied the abbe.

"Tell me precisely who are these people." The abbe hesitated.

"Come! no fear, I am not threatening; no romancing, for I am not
joking."

"Since you demand the truth, monseigneur, here it is:--I have a hundred
and twenty friends or companions of pleasure, who are sworn to me as the
thief is to the gallows."

"And you think you can depend on them?"

"Entirely."

"And you will not compromise yourself?"

"I will not even make my appearance."

"Are they men of resolution?"

"They would burn Paris, if I promised them they should not be burnt in
turn."

"The thing I ask of you, abbe," said Fouquet, wiping the sweat which
fell from his brow, "is to throw your hundred and twenty men upon
the people I will point out to you, at a certain moment given--is it
possible?"

"It will not be the first time such a thing has happened to them,
monseigneur."

"That is well: but would these bandits attack an armed force?"

"They are used to that."

"Then get your hundred and twenty men together, abbe."

"Directly. But where?"

"On the road to Vincennes, to-morrow, at two o'clock precisely."

"To carry off Lyodot and D'Eymeris? There will be blows to be got!"

"A number, no doubt; are you afraid?"

"Not for myself, but for you."

"Your men will know, then, what they have to do?"

"They are too intelligent not to guess it. Now, a minister who gets up a
riot against his king--exposes himself--"

"Of what importance is that to