As to Moliere, he had undertaken to order the horses, while Aramis went to exchange a parting word with the superintendent.

“Oh, how they are laughing there!” said Fouquet, with a sigh.

“Do you not laugh, monseigneur?”

“I laugh no longer now, M. d’Herblay. The fete is approaching; money is departing.”

“Have I not told you that was my business?”

“Yes, you promised me millions.”

“You shall have them the day after the king’s entree into Vaux.”

Fouquet looked closely at Aramis, and passed the back of his icy hand across his moistened