With his head thrown back and buried in the soft down of his pillow, Philippe perceived above him the crown of France, suspended, as we have stated, by angels with outspread golden wings.
A man may be ambitious of lying in a lion's den, but can hardly hope to sleep there quietly.

Philippe listened attentively to every sound; his heart panted and throbbed at the very suspicion of approaching terror and misfortune; but confident in his own strength, which was confirmed by the force of an overpoweringly resolute determination, he waited until some decisive circumstance should permit him to judge for himself.
He hoped that imminent danger might be revealed to him, like those phosphoric lights of the tempest which show the sailors the altitude of the waves against which they have to struggle.

But nothing approached.
Silence, that mortal enemy of restless hearts, and of ambitious minds, shrouded in the thickness of its gloom during the remainder of the night the future king of France, who lay there sheltered beneath his stolen crown.

Towards the morning a shadow, rather than a body, glided into the royal chamber; Philippe expected his approach and neither expressed nor exhibited any surprise.
"Well, M.d'Herblay ?" "Well, sire, all is accomplished." "How ?" "Exactly as we expected." "Did he resist ?" "Terribly! tears and entreaties." "And then ?" "A perfect stupor." "But at last ?" "Oh! at last, a complete victory, and absolute silence." "Did the governor of the Bastile suspect anything ?" "Nothing." "The resemblance, however--" "Was the cause of the success." "But the prisoner cannot fail to explain himself.

Think well of that.