permission to go and fling myself beneath the bedclothes.”

“Indeed, you are in a shiver; it is painful to behold! Come, Monsieur Fouquet, begone! I will send to inquire after you.”

“Your majesty overwhelms me with kindness. In an hour I shall be better.”

“I will call some one to reconduct you,” said the king.

“As you please, sire; I would gladly take the arm of any one.”

“Monsieur d’Artagnan!” cried the king, ringing his little bell.

“Oh, sire,” interrupted Fouquet, laughing in such a manner as made the prince feel cold, “would you give me the captain of your musketeers to take me to my lodgings? An equivocal honor that, sire! A simple footman, I beg.”