Bragelonne, in his impatience, asks everywhere for La Valliere.  They tell him that she has a charming house between Saint Germain, Lucienne, and Versailles.  He goes thither, laden with coral and pearls from the Indies.  He asks to have sight of his love.  A tall Swiss repulses him, saying that, in order to speak with Madame la Duchesse, it was absolutely necessary to make an appointment.

At the same moment one of his friends rides past the gateway.  They greet each other, and in reply to his questioning, this friend informs him that Mademoiselle de la Valliere is a duchess, that she is a mother, that she is lapped in grandeur and luxury, and that she has as lover a king.

At this news, Bragelonne finds nothing further for him to do in this world.  He grasps his friend’s hand, retires to a neighbouring wood, and there, drawing his sword, plunges it into his heart,—­a sad requital for love so noble!

CHAPTER VI.

M. Fouquet.—­His Mistake.—­A Woman’s Indiscretion May Cause the Loss of a Great Minister.—­The Castle of Vaux.—­Fairy-land.—­A Fearful Awakening.—­Clemency of the King.

On going out into society, I heard everybody talking everywhere about M. Fouquet.  They praised his good-nature, his affability, his talents, his magnificence, his wit.  His post as Surintendant-General, envied by a thousand, provoked indeed a certain amount of spite; yet all such vain efforts on the part of mediocrity to slander him troubled him but little.  My lord the Cardinal (Mazarin.  D.W.) was his support, and so long as the main column stood firm, M. Fouquet, lavish of gifts to his protector, had really nothing to fear.

This minister also largely profited by the species of fame to be derived from men of letters.  He knew their venality and their needs.  His sumptuous, well-appointed table was placed in grandiose fashion at their disposal.  Moreover, he made sure of their attachment and esteem by fees and enormous pensions.  The worthy La Fontaine nibbled like others at the bait, and at any rate paid his share of the reckoning by the most profuse gratitude.  M. Fouquet had one great defect:  he took it into his head that every woman is devoid of will-power and of resistance if only one dazzle her eyes with gold.  Another prejudice of his was to believe, as an article of faith, that, if possessed of gold and jewels, the most ordinary of men can inspire affection.

Making this twofold error his starting-point as a principle that was incontestable, he was wont to look upon every beautiful woman who happened to appear on the horizon as his property acquired in advance.

At Madame’s, he saw Mademoiselle de la Valliere, and instantly sent her his vows of homage and his proposals.

To his extreme astonishment, this young beauty declined to understand such language.  Couched in other terms, he renewed his suit, yet apparently was no whit less obscure than on the first occasion.  Such a scandal as this well-nigh put him to the blush, and he was obliged to admit that this modest maiden either affected to be, or really was, utterly extraordinary.