“Is it possible?” exclaimed Fouquet.

“The same noble character in their features, the same carriage, the same stature, the same voice.”

“But their thoughts?

degree of intelligence? their knowledge of human life?”

“There is inequality there, I admit, monseigneur. Yes; for the prisoner of the Bastile is, most incontestably, superior in every way to his brother; and if, from his prison, this unhappy victim were to pass to the throne, France would not, from the earliest period of its history, perhaps, have had a master more powerful in genius and nobility of character.”

Fouquet buried his face in his hands, as if he were overwhelmed by the