Chapter 63

Chapter LXIII:
Toby.

Two hours after the superintendent's carriage had set off by Aramis's
directions, conveying them both towards Fontainebleau with the fleetness
of the clouds the last breath of the tempest was hurrying across the face
of heaven, La Valliere was closeted in her own apartment, with a simple
muslin wrapper round her, having just finished a slight repast, which was
placed upon a marble table. Suddenly the door was opened, and a servant
entered to announce M. Fouquet, who had called to request permission to
pay his respects to her. She made him repeat the message twice over, for
the poor girl only knew M. Fouquet by name, and could not conceive what
business she could possibly have with a superintendent of finances.
However, as he might represent the king - and, after the conversation we
have recorded, it was very likely - she glanced at her mirror, drew out
still more the ringlets of her hair, and desired him to be admitted. La
Valliere could not, however, refrain from a certain feeling of
uneasiness. A visit from the superintendent was not an ordinary event in
the life of any woman attached to the court. Fouquet, so notorious for
his generosity, his gallantry, and his sensitive delicacy of feeling with
regard to women 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!