accompanied by a picket of twenty men, persuaded that an attack was being made on the Bastile.

Baisemeaux also recognized Fouquet immediately, and dropped the sword he bravely had been brandishing.

“Ah! monseigneur,” he stammered, “how can I excuse — ”

“Monsieur,” said the superintendent, flushed with anger, and heated by his exertions, “I congratulate you. Your watch and ward are admirably kept.”

Baisemeaux turned pale, thinking that this remark was made ironically, and portended a furious burst of anger. But Fouquet had recovered his breath, and, beckoning the sentinel and the subaltern, who were rubbing their shoulders, towards him, he said, “There are