It is easy to see the elegant young king and his court in the setting of a sophisticated out-of-doors, wandering on grassy paths, lingering under arches of roses, plucking a flower to nest beside a smiling face, stopping where servants--obsequious adepts, they were then--supplied dainty things to eat and drink. Madame de Sevigne was there, she of the observant eye, an eye much occupied at this time with the figure of Superintendent Foucquet, the host of this glorious occasion. This gracious lady lacked none of the appearance of frivolity, coiffed in curls, draped in lace and soft silks, but her mind was deeply occupied with the signs of the times. All the elegance of the chateau, all the seductive beauty of terrace, garden, and bosquet, all the piquant surprises of play and pyrotechnics, what were they? Simply the disinterested effort of a subject to give pleasure to His Majesty, the King. There were those present who had long envied Foucquet, with his ever-increasing power and wealth, his ability to patronise the arts, to collect, and even to establish his tapestry looms like a king, for his own palace and for gifts. This grand fete in the lovely month of June did more than shower pleasure, more than gratify the lust of the eye. In effect, it was a gathering of exquisite beauties and charming men, lost in light-hearted play; in reality, it proved to be an incitive to envy and malice, and a means to ruin. Among the observant guests at this wondrous fete champetre was Colbert, young, ambitious, keen. He was not slow to see the holes in Foucquet's fabric, nor were others. And so, whispers came to the king. Foucquet's downfall is the old story of envy, man trying to climb by ruining his superiors, hating those whose magnificence approaches their own. Foucquet's unequalled entertainment of the king was made to count as naught. Louis, even before leaving for Paris, had begun to ask whence came the money that purchased this wide fertile estate stretching to the vision's limit, the money that built the chateau of regal splendour, the money that paid for the prodigal pleasures of that day of delights? Foucquet thought to have gained the confidence and admiration of the king. But, on leaving, Louis said coldly, "We shall scarce dare ask you to our poor palace, seeing the superior luxury to which you are accustomed." A fearful cut, but only a straw to the fate which followed, the investigations into the affairs of Superintendent Foucquet. His arrest and his conviction followed and then the eighteen dreary years of imprisonment terminating only with the superintendent's life. Madame de Sevigne saw him in the beginning, wept for her hero, but after a while she, too, fell away from his weary years. [Illustration: CHILDREN GARDENING After Charles Lebrun. Gobelins, Seventeenth Century. Chateau Henri Quatre, Pau] [Illustration: GOBELINS GROTESQUE Musee des Arts Decoratifs, Paris]