"This is magnificent, my mother," said he; "so magnificent that I believe every word Colbert has told me. Colbert showed me peculations on paper; I see them here with my own eyes. Think of the millions he must have spent! Look at my palace of Saint-Germain—dilapidated, dismal; Fontainebleau still unfinished. It is shameful! Fouquet is a mushroom, who has nourished himself out of my revenues. I can crush him—I _will_ crush him—destroy him!" and the King stamped his foot savagely on a pavement of coloured marbles. "My son, do not speak so loudly," replied the Queen. At this moment Saint-Aignan appeared ascending the steps from below. "Where have you been, Duke?" asked Louis sharply. "A thousand pardons, your Majesty. They searched for me in the wrong place. You will not, however, have reason to regret my absence," and he gave the King a look full of meaning, and signed to him to move farther off from all possibility of listeners. "Sire," continued he, "I have made a discovery." "A discovery! Where? What have you found?" and Louis drew closer to him. "Sire, I fear you have a rival," and Saint-Aignan glanced significantly at the Duchesse de la Vallière, who sat on a settee behind, not far from the Queen-mother. "A rival! Ridiculous! You have been asleep and dreaming, Duke." "No, Sire; on the faith of a peer of France, no. Your Majesty has a rival, I repeat." "What do I care for rivals! I have her heart," and Louis glanced tenderly at La Vallière. "But is your Majesty so certain?" "Certain? Ask me if I live!" exclaimed Louis with warmth. "But tell me what you mean. Speak, Duke, and speak quickly, for we may be interrupted." "Well, Sire, some fairy, who I suppose watches over your interests, told me to wander over the château and examine the more private chambers. No one was by. Every one was in the garden with your Majesty to see the illuminations. At the end of a long gallery, in a distant part of the house, I came upon a boudoir—such a bijou of a room!—evidently belonging to Fouquet. On the walls hung the portraits of some of the fairest ladies of the Court. It is a hall of beauty, Sire." "Go on," said Louis impatiently; "I understand." "Among these beauties, Sire, was—well—there was the lady you honour with your special attentions—Madame la Duchesse—" and Saint-Aignan stopped, and again indicated La Vallière, who, unconscious of what was going on, sat near, her delicate cheek resting on her hand. "You need mention no names, Saint-Aignan. I tell you, I understand," replied the King with evident irritation. "And pray what does it matter if you did find the portrait of that lady there? I see nothing in it at all remarkable. No hall of beauty would be complete without her likeness. Who were the other portraits?" [Illustration: COLBERT.] "Ah, Sire, that is precisely the point I am coming to. They were all portraits of ladies who are or have been the acknowledged mistresses of Fouquet. If Madame la Duchesse de——"