said the captain to himself, “here are some of the fragments of the note torn by M.

Fouquet. Poor man! he has given his secret to the wind; the wind will have no more to do with it, and brings it back to the king. Decidedly, Fouquet, you play with misfortune! the game is not a fair one, — fortune is against you. The star of Louis XIV. obscures yours; the adder is stronger and more cunning than the squirrel.” D’Artagnan picked up one of these morsels of paper as he descended. “Gourville’s pretty little hand!” cried he, whilst examining one of the fragments of the note; “I was not mistaken.” And he read the word “horse.” “Stop!” said he; and he examined another, upon which there was not a letter traced. Upon a third he read the word