"That being so, monseigneur, what is it?"
"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 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 in his carriage, despair in his heart, and death on his countenance.
"Well!" said Pellisson, with great anxiety.
"Our friends are lost. Colbert is conveying them to the donjon. They crossed our very path under the arcade Saint-Jean."
Pellisson, 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.
"Hone -- to Paris. You, Pellisson, return to Saint-Mande, and bring the Abbe Fouquet to me within an hour. Begone!"
CHAPTER 60. Plan of Battle
The night was already far advanced when the Abbe Fouquet joined his