Chapter 35 - Page 2

at the approach of the storm, and in spite of the threatening heavens, in spite of the trembling earth, they remained there, smiling, cheerful, as devoted to him in misfortune as they had been in prosperity. On the left of the superintendent was Madame de Belliere; on his right was Madame Fouquet; as if braving the laws of the world, and putting all vulgar reasons of propriety to silence, the two protecting angels of this man united to offer him at the moment of the crisis the support of their intertwined arms. Madame de Belliere was pale, trembling, and full of respectful attentions for Madame the wife of the superintendent who, with one hand on the hand of her husband, was looking anxiously towards the door by which Pélisson had gone out to bring in d’Artagnan. The captain entered at first full of courtesy, and afterwards of admiration, when, with his infallible glance, he had interpreted the expression of every face.

Fouquet raised himself up in his chair. “Pardon me, M. d’Artagnan,” said he, “if I did not come to receive you when coming in the King’s name.” And he pronounced the last words with a sort of melancholy firmness, which filled the hearts of his friends with terror.

“Monseigneur,” replied d’Artagnan, “I only come to you in the King’s name to demand payment of an order for two hundred pistoles.”

The clouds passed from every brow but that of Fouquet, which still remained overcast. “Ah, then,” said he, “perhaps you also are going to Nantes?”

“I do not know whither I am going, Monseigneur.”

“But,” said Madame Fouquet, recovered from her fright, “you are not going so soon, Monsieur the Captain, but that you can do us the honor to take a seat with us?”

“Madame, I should esteem that a great honor done to me, but I am so pressed for time that, you see, I have been obliged to permit myself to interrupt your repast to procure payment of my order.”

“The reply to which shall be gold,” said Fouquet, making a sign to his intendant, who went out with the order which d’Artagnan handed to him.

“Oh!” said the latter, “I was not uneasy about the payment; the house is good.”

A painful smile passed over the pale features of Fouquet.

“Are you in pain?” asked Madame de Belliere.

“Do you feel your attack coming on?” asked Madame Fouquet.

“Neither, thank you,” said the superintendent.

“Your attack?” said d’Artagnan, in his turn; “are you unwell, Monseigneur?”

“I have a tertian fever, which seized me after the fête at Vaux.”

“Caught cold in the grottos at night,