Fouquet uttered a thick, smothered cry, as if he had been struck by some invisible blow, and clasping his head between his clenched hands, he murmured: "You did that?"
"Cleverly enough, too; what do you think of it?"
"You dethroned the king? imprisoned him, too?"
"Yes, that has been done."
"And such an action has been committed here at Vaux?"
"Yes, here, at Vaux, in the Chamber of Morpheus. It would almost seem that it had been built in anticipation of such an act."
"And at what time did it occur?"
"Last night, between twelve and one o'clock."
Fouquet made a movement, as if he were on the point of springing upon Aramis; he restrained himself. "At Vaux; under my roof!" he said, in a half-strangled voice.
"I believe so! for it is still your house, and is likely to continue so, since M. Colbert cannot rob you of it now."