“He has this very day received letters which will, perhaps, compel him to leave, so that, before setting off for that unknown region called Bretagne, he is desirous of paying his respects to your majesty.” “Is he waiting?” “He is here, sire.” “Let him enter.” Fouquet made a sign to the usher in attendance, who was waiting behind the tapestry. The door opened, and Aramis entered. The king allowed him to finish the compliments which he addressed to him, and fixed a long look upon a countenance which no one could forget, after having once beheld it. “Vannes!” he said: “you are bishop of Vannes, I believe?” “Yes, sire.” “Vannes is in Bretagne, I think?” Aramis bowed. “Near the coast?” Aramis again bowed. “A few leagues from Bell-Isle, is it not?” “Yes, sire,” replied Aramis; “six leagues, I believe.” “Six leagues; a mere step, then,” said Louis XIV. “Not for us poor Bretons, sire,” replied Aramis: “six leagues, on the contrary, is a great distance, if it be six leagues on land; and an immense distance, if it be leagues on the sea. Besides, I have the honor to mention to your majesty that there are six leagues of sea from the river to Belle-Isle.” “It is said that M. Fouquet has a very beautiful house there?” inquired the king. “Yes, it is said so,” replied Aramis, looking quietly at Fouquet. “What do you mean by ‘it is said so?’” exclaimed the king. “He has, sire.” “Really, M. Fouquet, I must confess that one circumstance surprises me.” “What may that be, sire?” “That you should have at the head of the diocese a man like M. d’Herblay, and yet should not have shown him Belle-Isle.” “Oh, sire,” replied the bishop, without giving Fouquet time to answer, “we poor Breton prelates seldom leave our residences.” “M. de Vannes,” said the king, “I will punish M. Fouquet for his indifference.” “In what way, sire?” “I will change your bishopric.” Fouquet bit his lips, but Aramis only smiled. “What income does Vannes bring you in?” continued the king. “Sixty thousand livres, sire,” said Aramis. “So trifling an amount as that; but you possess other property, Monsieur de Vannes?” “I have nothing else, sire; only M. Fouquet pays me one thousand two hundred livres a year for his pew in the church.” “Well, M. d’Herblay, I promise you something better than that.” “Sire--” “I will not forget you.” Aramis bowed, and the king also bowed to him in a respectful manner, as he was accustomed to do towards women and members of the Church. Aramis gathered that his audience was at an end; he took his leave of the king in the simple, unpretending language of a country pastor, and disappeared. “He is, indeed, a remarkable face,” said the king, following him with his eyes as long as he could see him, and even to a certain degree when he was no longer to be seen. “Sire,” replied Fouquet, “if that bishop had been educated early in life, no prelate in the kingdom would deserve the highest distinctions better than he.”