"To conduct me to the chamber of Messieurs Lyodot and D'Eymeris."

"Will monseigneur have the kindness to say for what purpose?"

"I will tell you that in their presence, monsieur; at the same time that
I will give you ample means of palliating this escape."

"Escape!  Why, then, monseigneur does not know?"

"What?"

"That Messieurs Lyodot and D'Eymeris are no longer here."

"Since when?" cried Fouquet, in great agitation.

"About a quarter of an hour."

"Whither have they gone, then?"

"To Vincennes - to the donjon."

"Who took them from here?"

"An order from the king."

"Oh! woe! woe!" exclaimed Fouquet, striking his forehead.  "Woe!" and
without saying a single word more to the governor, he threw himself back
into his carriage, despair in his heart, and death on his countenance.

"Well!" said Pelisson, with great anxiety.

"Our friends are lost.  Colbert is conveying them to the donjon.  They
crossed our path under the arcade Saint-Jean."

Pelisson, struck as by a thunderbolt, made no reply.  With a single
reproach he would have killed his master.  "Where is monseigneur going?"
said the footman.

"Home - to Paris.  You, Pelisson, return to Saint-Mande, and bring the
Abbe Fouquet to me within an hour.  Begone!"


Chapter LX:
Plan of Battle.

The night was already far advanced when the Abbe Fouquet joined his
brother.  Gourville had accompanied him.  These three men, pale with
dread of future events, resembled less three powers of the day than three
conspirators, united by one single thought of violence.  Fouquet walked
for a long time, with his eyes fixed upon the floor, striking his hands
one against the other.  At length, taking courage, in the midst of a deep
sigh: "Abbe," said he, "you were speaking to me only to-day of certain
people you maintain."

"Yes, monsieur," replied the abbe.

"Tell me precisely who are these people."  The abbe hesitated.

"Come! no fear, I am not threatening; no romancing, for I am not joking."

"Since you demand the truth, monseigneur, here it is: - I have a hundred
and twenty friends or companions of pleasure, who are sworn to me as the
thief is to the gallows."

"And you think you can depend on them?"

"Entirely."

"And you will not compromise yourself?"

"I will not even make my appearance."

"Are they men of resolution?"

"They would burn Paris, if I promised them they should not be burnt in
turn."

"The thing I ask of you, abbe," said Fouquet, wiping the sweat which fell
from his brow, "is to throw your hundred and twenty men upon the people I
will point out to you, at a certain moment given - is it possible?"

"It will not be the first time such a thing has happened to them,
monseigneur."

"That is well: but would these bandits attack an armed force?"

"They are used to that."

"Then get your hundred and twenty men together, abbe."

"Directly.  But where?"

"On the road to Vincennes, to-morrow, at two o'clock precisely."

"To carry off Lyodot and D'Eymeris?  There will be blows to be got!"

"A number, no doubt; are you afraid?"

"Not for myself, but for you."

"Your men will know, then, what they have to do?"

"They are too intelligent not to guess it.  Now, a minister who gets up a
riot against his king - exposes himself - "


"Of what importance is that to you, I pray?  Besides, if I fall, you fall
with me."

"It would then be more prudent, monsieur, not to stir in the affair, and
leave the king to take this little satisfaction."

"Think well of this, abbe, Lyodot and D'Eymeris at Vincennes are a
prelude of ruin for my house.  I repeat it - I arrested, you will be
imprisoned - I imprisoned, you will be exiled."

"Monsieur, I am at your orders; have you any to give me?"

"What I told you - I wish that, to-morrow, the two financiers of whom
they mean to make victims, whilst there remain so many criminals
unpunished, should be snatched from the fury of my enemies.  Take your
measures accordingly.  Is it possible?"

"It is possible."

"Describe your plan."

"It is of rich simplicity.  The ordinary guard at executions consists of
twelve archers."

"There will be a hundred to-morrow."

"I reckon so.  I even say more - there will be two hundred."

"Then your hundred and twenty men will not be enough."

"Pardon me.  In every crowd composed of a hundred thousand spectators,
there are ten thousand bandits or cut-purses - only they dare not take
the initiative."

"Well?"

"There will then be, to-morrow, on the Place de Greve, which I choose as
my battle-field, ten thousand auxiliaries to my hundred and twenty men.
The attack commenced by the latter, the others will finish it."

"That all appears feasible.  But what will be done with regard to the
prisoners upon the Place de Greve?"

"This: they must be thrust into some house - that will make a siege
necessary to get them out again.  And stop! here is another idea, more
sublime still: certain houses have two issues - one upon the Place, and
the other into the Rue de la Mortellerie, or la Vannerie, or la
Tixeranderie.  The prisoners entering by one door will go out at another."

"Yes; but fix upon something positive."

"I am seeking to do so."

"And I," cried Fouquet, "I have found it.  Listen to what has occurred to
me at this moment."

"I am listening."

Fouquet made a sign to Gourville, who appeared to understand.  "One of my
friends lends me sometimes the keys of a house which he rents, Rue
Baudoyer, the spacious gardens of which extend behind a certain house on
the Place de Greve."

"That is the place for us," said the abbe.  "What house?"

"A _cabaret_, pretty well frequented, whose sign represents the image of
Notre Dame."

"I know it," said the abbe.

"This _cabaret_ has windows opening upon the Place, a place of exit into
the court, which must abut upon the gardens of my friend by a door of
communication."

"Good!" said the abbe.

"Enter by the _cabaret_, take the prisoners in; defend the door while you
enable them to fly by the garden and the Place Baudoyer."

"That is all plain.  Monsieur, you would make an excellent general, like
monsieur le prince."

"Have you understood me?"

"Perfectly well."

"How much will it amount to, to make your bandits all drunk with wine,
and to satisfy them with gold?"

"Oh, monsieur, what an expression!  Oh! monsieur, if they heard you! some
of them are very susceptible."

"I mean to say they must be brought to the point where they cannot tell
the heavens from the earth; for I shall to-morrow contend with the king;
and when I fight I mean to conquer - please to understand."

"It shall be done, monsieur.  Give me your other ideas."

"That is your business."

"Then give me your purse."

"Gourville, count a hundred thousand livres for the abbe."

"Good! and spare nothing, did you not say?"

"Nothing."

"That is well."

"Monseigneur," objected Gourville, "if this should be known, we should
lose our heads."

"Eh!  Gourville," replied Fouquet, purple with anger, "you excite my
pity.  Speak for yourself, if you please.  My head does not shake in that
manner upon my shoulders.  Now, abbe, is everything arranged?"

"Everything."

"At two o'clock to-morrow."

"At twelve, because it will be necessary to prepare our auxiliaries in a
secret manner."

"That is true; do not spare the wine of the _cabaretier_."

"I will spare neither his wine nor his house," replied the abbe, with a
sneering laugh.  "I have my plan, I tell you; leave me to set it in
operation, and you shall see."

"Where shall you be yourself?"

"Everywhere; nowhere."

"And how shall I receive information?"

"By a courier whose horse shall be kept in the very same garden of your
friend.  _A propos_, the name of your friend?"

Fouquet looked again at Gourville.  The latter came to the succor of his
master, saying, ["The name is of no importance."

Fouquet continued, "Accompany] monsieur l'abbe, for several reasons, but
the house is easily to be known - the 'Image-de-Notre-Dame' in the front,
a garden, the only one in the quarter, behind."

[The text is corrupt at this point.  The suggested reading, in brackets,
is my own. – JB.]

"Good, good!  I will go and give notice to my soldiers."

"Accompany him, Gourville," said Fouquet, "and count him down the money.
One moment, abbe - one moment, Gourville - what name will be given to
this carrying off?"

"A very natural one, monsieur - the Riot."

"The riot on account of what?  For, if ever the people of Paris are
disposed to pay their court to the king, it is when he hangs financiers."

"I will manage that," said the abbe.

"Yes; but you may manage it badly, and people will guess."

"Not at all, - not at all.  I have another idea."

"What is that?"

"My men shall cry out, '_Colbert, vive Colbert!_' and shall throw
themselves upon the prisoners as if they would tear them in pieces, and
shall force them from the gibbets, as too mild a punishment."

"Ah! that is an idea," said Gourville.  "_Peste!_ monsieur l'abbe, what
an imagination you have!"

"Monsieur, we are worthy of our family," replied the abbe, proudly.

"Strange fellow," murmured Fouquet.  Then he added, "That is ingenious.
Carry it out, but shed no blood."

Gourville and the abbe set off together, with their heads full of the
meditated riot.  The superintendent laid himself down upon some cushions,
half valiant with respect to the sinister projects of the morrow, half
dreaming of love.


Chapter LXI:
The Cabaret of the Image-de-Notre-Dame.

At two o'clock the next day fifty thousand spectators had taken their
position upon the Place, around the two gibbets which had been elevated
between the Quai de la Greve and the Quai Pelletier; one close to the
other, with their backs to the embankment of the river.  In the morning
also, all the sworn criers of the good city of Paris had traversed the
quarters of the city, particularly the _halles_ and the _faubourgs_,
announcing with their hoarse and indefatigable voices the great justice
done by the king upon two speculators, two thieves, devourers of the

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