When the King went out on to the balcony of his apartment to make a general survey of the gardens and the perspective, he found everything well arranged and most alluring; but a certain vista seemed to him spoiled by whitish-looking clearings that gave too barren an aspect to the general coup d’oeil.

His host readily shared this opinion.  He at once gave the requisite instructions, which that very night were executed by torchlight with the utmost secrecy by all the workmen of the locality whose services at such an hour it was possible to secure.

When next day the monarch stepped out on to his balcony, he saw a beautiful green wood in place of the clearings with which on the previous evening he had found fault.

Service more prompt or tasteful than this it was surely impossible to have; but kings only desire to be obeyed when they command.

Fouquet, with airy presumption, expected thanks and praise.  This, however, was what he had to hear:  “I am shocked at such expense!”

Soon afterwards the Court moved to Nantes; the ministers followed; M. Fouquet was arrested.

His trial at the Paris Arsenal lasted several months.  Proofs of his defalcations were numberless.  His family and proteges made frantic yet futile efforts to save so great a culprit.  The Commission sentenced him to death, and ordered the confiscation of all his property.

The King, content to have made this memorable and salutary example, commuted the death penalty, and M. Fouquet learned with gratitude that he would have to end his days in prison.

Nor did the King insist upon the confiscation of his property, which went to the culprit’s widow and children, all that was retained being the enormous sums which he had embezzled.

CHAPTER VII.

Close of the Queen-mother’s Illness.—­The Archbishop of Auch.—­The
Patient’s Resignation.—­The Sacrament.—­Court Ceremony for its
Reception.—­Sage Distinction of Mademoiselle de Montpensier.—­Her
Prudence at the Funeral.

As the Queen-mother’s malady grew worse, the Court left Saint Germain to be nearer the experts and the Val-de-Grace, where the princess frequently practised her devotions with members of the religious sisterhood that she had founded.

Suddenly the cancer dried up, and the head physician declared that the Queen was lost.

The Archbishop of Auch said to the King, “Sire, there is not an instant to be lost; the Queen may die at any moment; she should be informed of her condition, so that she may prepare herself to receive the Sacrament.”

The King was troubled, for he dearly loved his mother.  “Monsieur,” he replied, with emotion, “it is impossible for me to sanction your request.  My mother is resting calmly, and perhaps thinks that she is out of danger.  We might give her her death-blow.”

The prelate, a man of firm, religious character, insisted, albeit reverently, while the prince continued to object.  Then the Archbishop retorted, “It is not with nature or the world that we have here to deal.  We have to save a soul.  I have done my duty, and filial tenderness will at any rate bear the blame.”