"Indeed!"
"The king commanded me to set out for Nantes, it is true; and to say nothing about it to M. de Gesvres."
"My friend."
"To M. de Gesvres, yes, monseigneur," continued the musketeer, whose eyes did not cease to speak a language different from the language of his lips. "The king, moreover, commanded me to take a brigade of musketeers, which is apparently superfluous, as the country is quite quiet."
"A brigade!" said Fouquet, raising himself upon his elbow.
"Ninety-six horsemen, yes, monseigneur. The same number as were employed in arresting MM. de Chalais, de Cinq-Mars, and Montmorency."
Fouquet pricked up his ears at these words, pronounced without apparent value. "And besides?" said he.
"Well! nothing but insignificant orders; such as guarding the castle, guarding every lodging, allowing none of M. de Gesvres's guards to occupy a single post.—M. de Gesvres, your friend."
"And for myself," cried Fouquet, "what orders had you?"
"For you, monseigneur?—not the smallest word."