 20. In vivid contrast to the sad and terrible destiny of the King imprisoned in the Bastille, in tearing, in sheer despair, the bolts and bars of his dungeon, the rhetoric of the chroniclers of old would not fail to present, as a complete antithesis, the picture of Philippe lying asleep beneath the royal canopy. We do not pretend to say that such rhetoric is always bad, and always scatters, in places where they have no right to grow, the flowers with which it embellishes and enlivens history. But we shall, on the present occasion, carefully avoid polishing the antithesis in question, but shall proceed to draw another picture as minutely as possible, to serve as foil and counterfoil to the one in the preceding chapter. The young prince alighted from Aramis's room, in the same way the king had descended from the apartment dedicated to Morpheus. The dome gradually and slowly sank down under Aramis's pressure, and Philippe stood beside the royal bed, which had ascended again after having deposited its prisoner in the secret depths of the subterranean passage. Alone, in the presence of all the luxury which surrounded him, alone, in the presence of his power, alone, with the part he was about to be forced to act, Philippe for the first time felt his heart and mind and soul expand beneath the influence of a thousand mutable emotions which are the vital throbs of a king's heart. He could not help changing colour when he looked upon the empty bed, still tumble by his brother's body. This mute accomplice had returned after having completed the work it had been destined to perform. It returned with the traces of the crime. It spoke to the guilty author of that crime, with the frank and unreserved language which an accomplice never fears to use in the company of his companion in guilt, for it spoke the truth. Philippe bent over the bed and perceived a pocket handkerchief lying on it, which was still damp from the cold sweat which it poured from Louis XIV's face. This sweat-bestained handkerchief terrified Philippe, as the gore of abel-frightened cane. "'I am face to face with my destiny,' said Philippe, his eyes on fire, and his face in livid white. "'Is it likely to be more terrifying than my captivity has been sad and gloomy? Though I am compelled to follow out, at every moment, the sovereign power and authority I have usurped, shall I cease to listen to the scruples of my heart?' "'Yes. The king has lain on this bed. It is indeed his head that has left its impression on this pillow. His bitter tears that have stained this handkerchief. And yet I hesitate to throw myself on the bed, or to press in my hand the handkerchief which is embroidered with my brother's arms. Away with such weakness! Let me imitate Monsieur de Blay, who asserts that a man's action should be always one degree above his thoughts. Let me imitate Monsieur de Blay, whose thoughts are of, and for himself alone, who regards himself as a man of honour, so long as he injures or betrays his enemies only. I, I alone, could have occupied this bed, if Louis XIV had not, owing to my mother's criminal abandonment, stood in my way. And this handkerchief, embroidered with the arms of France, would in right injustice belong to me alone, if, as Monsieur de Blay observes, I had been left my royal cradle. Philippe, son of France, take your place on that bed. Philippe, sole king of France, resume the blazonry that is yours. Philippe, sole heir presumptive to Louis XIII, your father, show yourself without pity or mercy for the usurper who, at this moment, has not even to suffer the agony of the remorse of all that you have had to submit to. With these words, Philippe, notwithstanding an instinctive repugnance of feeling, and in spite of the shutter of terror which mastered his will, threw himself on the royal bed, and forced his muscles to press the still warm place where Louis XIV had lain, while he buried his burning face in the handkerchief still moistened by his brother's tears. 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 without spread 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, Monsieur de Blay. Well, Sire, all is accomplished. How? Exactly, as we expected. Did he resist? Terribly. Tears and entreaties. And then? A perfect stupor. And at last? Oh, at last, a complete victory, an absolute silence. Did the Governor, at the best, suspect anything? Nothing. The resemblance, however, was the cause of the success. But the prisoner cannot fail to explain himself. Think well of that. I have myself been able to do as much as that, on former occasion. I have already provided for every chance. In a few days, sooner, if necessary, we will take the captive out of his prison, and we'll send him out of the country to a place of exile so remote. People can return from their exile, Monsieur de Blay. To a place of exile so distant, I was going to say, that human strength and the duration of human life would not be enough for his return. Once more a cold look of intelligence passed between Aramis and the young king. And, Monsieur de Vallant, asked Philippe in order to change the conversation. He will be presented to you today, and confidentially will congratulate you on the danger which that conspirator has made you run. What is to be done with him? With Monsieur de Vallant? Yes. Confer a dupe d'hum on him, I suppose. Hutt dupe d'hum! replied Aramis, smiling in a significant manner. Why do you laugh, Monsieur de Blay? I laugh at the extreme caution of your idea. Cautious? Why so? Your Majesty is doubtless afraid that poor Porthos may possibly become a troublesome witness, and you wish to get rid of him. What, him making him a duke? Certainly, you would assuredly kill him, for he would die from joy, and the secret would die with him. Good heavens! Yes, said Aramis, phlegmatically. I should lose a very good friend. At this moment, and in the middle of this idle conversation, under the light tone of which the two conspirators concealed their joy and pride at their mutual success, Aramis heard something which made him prick up his ears. What is that? said Philippe. The Dawnsire. Well? Well, before you retired to bed last night, you probably decided to do something this morning at break of day. Yes, I told my captain of the musketeers, replied the young man hurriedly, that I should expect him. If you told him that, he will certainly be here, for he is a most punctual man. I hear a step in the vestibule. It must be he. Come, let us begin the attack, said the young king, resolutely. Be cautious for heaven's sake. To begin the attack, and with D'Artagnan, would be madness. D'Artagnan knows nothing. He has seen nothing. He is a hundred miles from suspecting our mystery in the slightest degree. But if he comes into this room the first this morning, he will be sure to detect something of what has taken place, and which he would imagine it his business to occupy himself about. Before we allow D'Artagnan to penetrate into this room, we must air the room thoroughly, or introduce so many people into it, that the keenest scent in the whole kingdom may be deceived by the traces of twenty different persons. But how can I send him away, since I have given him a rendezvous? Observe the prince impatient to measure swords with so redoubtable an antagonist. I will take care of that, replied the bishop, and in order to begin I am going to strike a blow which will completely stupefy our man. He too was striking a blow, for I hear him at the door, added the prince hurriedly. And in fact a knock at the door was heard at that moment. Aramis was not mistaken, for it was indeed D'Artagnan who adopted that mode of announcing himself. We have seen how he passed the night in philosophizing with Monsieur Fouquet. But the musketeer was very weary, even of feigning to fall asleep. And as soon as earliest dawn illumined with its gloomy gleams of light, the sumptuous cornices of the superintendent's room, and rose from his armchair, arranged his sword, brushed his coat and hat with a sleeve, like a private soldier getting ready for inspection. Are you going out? said Fouquet. Yes, Monsignor, and you? I shall remain. You pledge your word? Certainly. Very good. Besides, my only reason for going out is to try and get that reply. You know what I mean? That sentence you mean? Stay, I have something of the old Roman in me. This morning, when I got up, I remarked that my sword had got caught in one of the agriettes, and that my shoulder-belt had slipped quite off. That is an infallible sign. Of prosperity? Yes, be sure of it. For every time that that confounded belt of mine stuck fast to my back, it has always signified a punishment from Monsieur de Trevi, or a refusal of money by Monsieur de Mazarin. Every time my sword hung fast to my shoulder-belt, it always predicted some disagreeable commission or another for me to execute, and I have had showers of them all my life through. Every time, too, my sword danced about in its sheath, a duel, fortunate in its result, was sure to follow. Whenever it dangled about the calves of my legs, it signified a slight wound. Every time it fell completely out of the scabbard, I was booked, and made up my mind that I should have to remain on the field of battle, with two or three months under surgical bandages into the bargain. I do not know your sword kept you so well informed," said Fouquette with a faint smile, which showed how he was struggling against his own weakness. Is your sword bewitched, or under the influence of some imperial charm? Why, you must know that my sword may almost be regarded as part of my own body. I have heard that certain men seem to have warnings given them by feeling something that matter with their legs, or a throbbing of their temples. With me it is my sword that warns me. Well, it told me of nothing this morning. But stay a moment. Look here. It has just fallen of its own accord into the last hole of the belt. Do you know what that is a warning of? No. Well, that tells me of an arrest that will have to be made this very day. Well, said the Surin attendant, more astonished than annoyed by this frankness. If there is nothing disagreeable predicted to you by your sword, I am to conclude that it is not disagreeable for you to arrest me. You arrest you? Of course the warning does not concern you, since you have been arrested ever since yesterday. It is not you I shall have to arrest, be assured of that. That is the reason why I am delighted, and also the reason why I said that my day will be a happy one. And with these words, pronounced with the most affectionate graciousness of manner, the captain took leave of Phuket in order to wait upon the king. He was on the point of leaving the room when Phuket said to him, One last mark of kindness. What is it, Monsignor? Monsieur de Blay. Let me see, Monsieur de Blay. I am going to try and get him to come to you. D'Artagnan did not think himself so good a prophet. It was written that the day would pass away and realize all the predictions that had been made in the morning. He had accordingly knocked, as we have seen, at the king's door. The door opened. The captain thought it was the king who had just opened it himself, and this supposition was not altogether inadmissible, considering the state of agitation in which he had left Louis XIV the previous evening. But instead of his royal master, whom he was on the point of saluting with the greatest respect, he perceived the long, calm features of Aromas. So extreme was his surprise that he could hardly refrain from uttering a loud exclamation. Aromas, he said. Good morning, dear D'Artagnan, replied the prelate coldly. You here, stammered out the musketeer. His majesty desires you to report that he is still sleeping after having been greatly fatigued during the whole night. Ah, said D'Artagnan, who could not understand how the bishop of Vann, who had been so indifferent a favorite the previous evening, had become in half a dozen hours the most magnificent mushroom of fortune that had ever sprung up in a sovereign's bedroom. In fact, to transmit the orders of the king even to the mere threshold of that monarch's room. To serve as an intermediary of Louis XIV, so as to be able to give a single order in his name at a couple paces from him, he must have become more than Richelieu had ever been to Louis XIII. D'Artagnan's expressive eye, half-open lips, his curling moustache, said as much indeed in the plainest language to the chief favorite, who remained calm and perfectly unmoved. Moreover, continued the bishop, you will be good enough, M. Le Capedin de Musketeer, to allow those only to pass into the king's room this morning, who have special permission. His majesty does not wish to be disturbed just yet. But, objected D'Artagnan, almost on the point of refusing to obey this order, and particularly of giving unrestrained passage to the suspicions which the king's silence had aroused. But, M. Le Vec, his majesty gave me a rendezvous for this morning. Later, later, said the king's voice from the bottom of the alcove, a voice which made a cold shudder pass through the musketeer's veins. He bowed, amazed, confused, and stupefied by the smile with which Hermes seemed to overwhelm him as soon as these words had been pronounced. And then, continued the bishop, as an answer to what you are coming to ask the king, my dear D'Artagnan. Here is an order of his majesty, which you will be good enough to attend to forthwith, for it concerns M. Fouquet. D'Artagnan took the order which was held out to him. To be set at liberty, he murmured, ah! And he uttered a second, ah! Still more full of intelligence than the former, for this order explained Hermes's presence with the king, and that Hermes, in order to have obtained Fouquet's pardon, must have made considerable progress in the royal favor, and that this favor explained, in its tenor, the hardly conceivable assurance with which M. Durblay issued the order in the king's name. For D'Artagnan it was quite sufficient to have understood something of the matter in hand in order to understand the rest. He bowed and withdrew a couple of paces, as though he were about to leave. I am going with you, said the bishop. Where to? To M. Fouquet, I wish to be a witness of his delight. Ah! Hermes, how you puzzled me just now, said D'Artagnan again. But you understand now, I suppose. Of course I understand, he said aloud, but added in a low tone to himself, almost hissing the words between his teeth. No, no, I do not understand yet. But it is all the same, for here is the order for it. And then he added, I will lead the way, M. S. and he conducted Hermes to Fouquet's apartments. Fouquet was waiting with anxiety. He had already sent away many of his servants and friends, who, anticipating the usual hour of his ordinary receptions, had called at his door to inquire after him. Preserving the utmost silence respecting the danger which hung suspended by a hair above his head, he only asked them, as he did everyone, indeed who came to the door, where Hermes was. When he saw D'Artagnan return, and when he perceived the bishop of Vaan behind him, he could hardly restrain his delight. It was fully equal to his previous uneasiness. The mere sight of Hermes was a complete compensation to the surintendent for the unhappiness he had undergone in his arrest. The prelate was silent and grave. D'Artagnan completely bewildered by such an accumulation of events. Well, Captain, so you have brought M. S. to play to me. And something better still, Monsignor. What is that? Liberty. I am free! Yes, by the king's order. Fouquet resumed his usual serenity that he might interrogate Hermes with a look. Oh, yes, you can thank M. Leveque de Vaan, pursued D'Artagnan, for it is indeed to him that you owe the change that has taken place in the king. Oh, said Fouquet, more humiliated at the service than grateful at its success. But you, continued D'Artagnan, addressing Hermes, you who have become M. Fouquet's protector and patron, can you not do something for me? Anything in the wide world you like, my friend, replied the bishop in his calmest tones. One thing only then, and I shall be perfectly satisfied. How on earth did you manage to become the favorite of the king, you who have never spoken to him more than twice in your life? From a friend such as you are, said Hermes, I cannot conceal anything. Ah, very good, tell me then. Very well. You think that I have seen the king only twice, whilst the fact is I have seen him more than a hundred times. Only we have kept it very secret, that is all. And without trying to remove the color which at this revelation made D'Artagnan's face flush scarlet, Hermes turned towards M. Fouquet, who was as much surprised as the musketeer. Bonseigneur, he resumed, the king desires me to inform you that he is more than ever your friend, and that your beautiful fete, so generously offered by you on his behalf, has touched him to the very heart. And thereupon he saluted M. Fouquet with so much reverence of manner that the latter, incapable of understanding a man whose diplomacy was of so prodigious a character, remained incapable of uttering a single syllable, and equally incapable of thought or movement. D'Artagnan fancied he perceived that these two men had something to say to each other, and he was about to yield to that feeling of instinctive politeness which in such a case hurries a man towards the door, when he feels his presence as an inconvenience for others, but his eager curiosity, spurred on by so many mysteries, counseled him to remain. Hermes thereupon turned towards him and said in a quiet tone, You will not forget, my friend, the king's order respecting those whom he intends to receive this morning on rising. These words were clear enough, and the musketeer understood them. He therefore bowed to Fouquet, and then to Hermes, to the latter with a slight admixture of ironical respect, and disappeared. No sooner had he left than Fouquet, whose impatience had hardly been able to wait for that moment, darted towards the door to close it, and then, returning to the bishop, he said, My dear De Blay, I think at now high time you should explain all that is past, for in plain and honest truth I do not understand anything. We will explain all that to you, said Hermes, sitting down, and making Fouquet sit down also. Where shall I begin? With this, first of all, why does the king set me at liberty? You ought rather to ask me what his reason was for having you arrested. Since my arrest I have had time to think over it, and my idea is that it rises out of some slight feeling of jealousy. My fate put Monsieur Colbert out of temper, and Monsieur Colbert discovered some cause of complaint against me, Belial, for instance. No, there is no question at all, just now, of Belial. What is it then? Do you remember those receipts for thirteen millions which Monsieur de Mazara contrived to steal from you? Yes, of course. Well, you are pronounced a public robber. Good heavens! Oh, that is not all. Do you also remember that letter you wrote to Lavalier? Alas, yes. And that proclaims you a traitor and a subordinate. Why should he have pardoned me then? We have not yet arrived at that part of our argument. I wish you to be quite convinced of the fact itself. Observe this well. The king knows you to be guilty of an appropriation of public funds. Oh, of course I know that you have done nothing of the kind, but at all events. The king has seen the receipts, and he can do no other than to believe you are incriminated. I beg your pardon, I do not see—you will see presently, though. The king, moreover, having read your love-letter to Lavalier, and the offers you there made her, cannot retain any doubt of your intentions with regard to that young lady. You will admit that, I suppose. Certainly, pray conclude. In the fewest words, the king, we may henceforth assume, is your powerful, implacable, and eternal enemy. Agreed, but am I then so powerful that he is not dared to sacrifice me, notwithstanding his hatred, with all the means which my weakness or my misfortunes may have given him as a hold upon me? It is clear beyond all doubt, pursued Eremus coldly, that the king has quarreled with you, irreconcilably. But since he has absolved me, do you believe it likely? asked the bishop with a searching look. Without believing in his sincerity, I believe it in the accomplished fact, Eremus slightly shrugged his shoulders. But why, then, should Louis XIV have commissioned you to tell me what you have just stated? The king charged me with no message for you. With nothing, said the serintendent, stupefied. But that order, oh, yes, you are quite right. There is an order, certainly. And these words were pronounced by Eremus, and so strange a tone that Phuket could not resist starting. You are conceding something from me, I see. What is it? Eremus softly rubbed his white fingers over his chin, but said nothing. Does the king exile me? Do not act as if you are playing at the game's children play at, when they have to try and guess where a thing has been hidden, and are informed by a bell being rung when they are approaching near to it or going away from it. Speak, then, guess. You alarm me. Bah, that is because you have not guessed, then. What did the king say to you in the name of our friendship? Do not deceive me. The king has not said one word to me. You are killing me with impatience, duble. Am I still superintendent? As long as you like. But what extraordinary empire have you suddenly acquired over his majesty's mind? Ah, that's the point. He does your bidding? I believe so. It is hardly credible, so anyone would say. Duble, by our alliance, by our friendship, by everything you hold dearest in the world, speak openly. I implore you. By what means have you succeeded in overcoming Louis XIV's prejudices, for he did not like you. I am certain. The king will like me now, said Hermes, laying stress upon the last word. Do you have something particular, then, between you? Yes. A secret, perhaps. A secret? A secret of such a nature as to change his majesty's interests. You are indeed a man of superior intelligence, Monsignor, and have made a particularly accurate guess. I have, in fact, discovered a secret of a nature to change the interests of the king of France. Ah, said Fouquet, with the reserve of a man who does not wish to ask any more questions. And you shall judge of it yourself, pursued Hermes, and you shall tell me if I am mistaken with regard to the importance of this secret. I am listening, since you are good enough to embouzen yourself to me. Only do not forget that I have asked you about nothing, which it may be indiscreet in you to communicate. Hermes seemed for a moment as if he were collecting himself. Do not speak, said Fouquet. There is still time enough. Do you remember, said the bishop, casting down his eyes, the birth of Louis XIV, as if it were yesterday? Have you ever heard anything particular respecting his birth? Nothing except that the king was not really the son of Louis XIII. That does not matter to us or the king, either. He is the son of his father, says the French law, whose father is recognized by law. True, but it is a grave matter when the quality of races is called into question. A mere secondary question, after all. So that, in fact, you have never learned or heard anything in particular? Nothing. That is where my secret begins. The queen, you must know, instead of being delivered of a son, was delivered of twins. Fouquet looked up suddenly as he replied, And the second is dead. You will see. These twins seemed likely to be regarded as the pride of their mother and the hope of France, but the weak nature of the king, his superstitious feelings, made him apprehend a series of conflicts between two children whose rights were equal. So he put out of the way, he suppressed one of the twins. Suppressed, did you say? Have patience. Both the children grew up, the one on the throne, whose minister you are, the other, who is my friend, in gloom and isolation. Good heavens! What are you saying, Monsieur de Blay? And what is this poor prince doing? Ask me, rather, what has he done? Yes, yes. He was brought up in the country and then thrown into a fortress which goes by the name of the Bastille. Is it possible? cried the sir-intending, clasping his hands. The one was the most fortunate of men, the other, the most unhappy and miserable of all living beings. Does his mother not know this? Anne of Austria knows it all. And the king knows absolutely nothing. So much the better, said Fouquet. This remark seemed to make a great impression on Aramis. He looked at Fouquet with the most anxious expression of countenance. I beg your pardon, I interrupted you, said Fouquet. I was saying, resumed Aramis, that this poor prince was the unhappiest of human beings when heaven, whose thoughts are over all his creatures, undertook to come to his assistance. Oh, in what way? Tell me. You will see. The reigning king, I say the reigning king. You can guess very well why? No, why? Because both of them, being legitimate princes, ought to have been kings. Is not that your opinion? It is, certainly. Unreservedly. Most unreservedly, twins are one person in two bodies. I am pleased that a legist of your learning and authority should have pronounced such an opinion. It is agreed then that each of them possessed equal rights, is it not? Incontestably, but gracious heavens, what an extraordinary circumstance. We are not at the end of it yet, patience. Oh, I shall find patience enough. Heaven wished to raise up for that oppressed child an avenger, or a supporter, or a vindicator, if you prefer it. It happened that the reigning king, the usurper. You are quite of my opinion, I believe, that it is an act of usurpation quietly to enjoy, and selfishly to assume the right over, an inheritance to which a man has only half a right? Yes, usurpation is the word. In that case I continue. It was heaven's will that the usurper should possess in the person of his first minister, a man of great talent, of large and generous nature. Well, well, said Phuket, I understand you. You have relied upon me to repair the wrong which has been done to this unhappy brother of Louis XIV. You have thought well. I will help you. I thank you, Derbley. I thank you. Oh, no, it is not that at all. You have not allowed me to finish, said Aramis, perfectly unmoved. I will not say another word then. Monsieur Phuket, I was observing, the minister of the reigning sovereign was suddenly taken into the greatest aversion and menaced with the ruin of his fortune, loss of liberty, loss of life even, by intrigue and personal hatred to which the king gave too readily an attentive ear. But heaven permits. Still, however, out of consideration for the unhappy prince who had been sacrificed, that Monsieur Phuket should in his turn have a devoted friend who knew this state secret and felt that he possessed strength and courage enough to divulge this secret after having had the strength to carry it locked up in his own heart for twenty years. Go no farther, said Phuket, full of generous feelings. I understand you and can cast everything now. You went to see the king when the intelligence of my arrest reached you. You implored him. He refused to listen to you. Then you threatened him with that secret, threatened to reveal it. And Louis XIV alarmed at the risk of its betrayal, granted to the terror of your indiscretion that he refused to your generous intercession. I understand. I understand. You have the king and your power. I understand. You understand nothing as yet, replied Eremus, and again you interrupt me. Then, too, allow me to observe that you pay no attention to logical reasoning and seem to forget what you ought most to remember. What do you mean? You know upon what I laid the greatest stress at the beginning of our conversation. Yes, His Majesty's hate, invincible hate for me. Yes, but what feeling of hate could resist the threat of such a revelation? Such a revelation, do you say? That is the very point where your logic fails you. What? Do you suppose that if I had made such a revelation to the king, I should have been alive now? It is not ten minutes ago that you were with the king. That may be. He might not have had the time to get me killed outright, but he would have had the time to get me gagged and thrown in a dungeon. Come, come, show a little consistency in your reasoning, Maudier. And by the mere use of this word, which was so thoroughly his old musketeer's expression, forgotten by one who never seemed to forget anything, Phuket could not but understand to what a pitch of exaltation the calm, impenetrable Bishop of Vaan had brought himself. He shuddered. And then, replied the latter, after having mastered his feelings, should I be the man I really am? Should I be the true friend you believe me, if I were to expose you, whom the king already hates so bitterly, to a feeling more than ever to be dreaded in that young man? To have robbed him is nothing. To have addressed the woman he loves is not much. But to hold in your keeping both his crown and his honor, why, he would pluck out your heart with his own hands. You have not allowed him to penetrate your secret, then? I would sooner, far sooner, have swallowed at one draft all the poisons that Mithridates drank in twenty years in order to try and avoid death than have betrayed my secret to the king. What have you done, then? Ah, now we are coming to the point, Monsignor. I think I shall not fail to excite in you a little interest. You are listening, I hope. How can you ask me if I am listening? Go on. Hermes walked softly all around the room, satisfied himself that they were alone, and that all was silent, and then returned and placed himself close to the armchair in which Phuket was seated, awaiting with the deepest anxiety the revelation he had to make. I forgot to tell you, resumed Hermes addressing himself to Phuket, who listened to him with the most absorbed attention. I forgot to mention a most remarkable circumstance respecting these twins, namely that God had formed them so startlingly, so miraculously, like each other, that it would be utterly impossible to distinguish the one from the other. Their own mother would not be able to distinguish them. Is it possible? exclaimed Phuket. The same noble character in their features, the same carriage, the same stature, the same voice, but their thoughts, degree of intelligence, their knowledge of human life. There is inequality there, I admit Monsignor. Yes, for the prisoner of the Bastille is most incontestably superior in every way to his brother, and if from his prison this unhappy victim were to pass to the throne, France would not, from the earliest period of its history, perhaps, have had a master more powerful ingenious and nobility of character. Phuket buried his face in his hands, as if he were overwhelmed by the weight of this immense secret. Hermes approached him. There is a further inequality, he said, continuing his work of temptation, an inequality which concerns yourself, Monsignor, between the twins, both sons of Louis XIII, namely, the last-comer does not know Monsieur Colbert. Phuket raised his head immediately, his features were pale and distorted, the bolt had hit its mark, not his heart, but his mind and comprehension. I understand you, he said to Hermes. You are proposing a conspiracy to me? Something like it. One of those attempts which, as you said at the beginning of this conversation, alters the fate of empires? And of superintendents too, yes, Monsignor. In a word, you propose that I should agree to the substitution of the son of Louis XIII, who is now a prisoner in the Bastille, for the son of Louis XIII, who is at this moment asleep in the chamber of Morpheus? Hermes smiled with the sinister expression of the sinister thought which was passing through his brain. Exactly, he said. Have you thought, continued Phuket, becoming animated with the strength of talent which in a few seconds originates and matures the conception of a plan, and with that largeness of view which foresees all consequences and embraces every result at a glance? Have you thought that we must assemble the nobility, the clergy, and the third estate of the realm that we shall have to depose the reigning sovereign to disturb by so frightful a scandal the tomb of their dead father to sacrifice the life, the honor of a woman and of Austria, the life and peace of mind and heart of another woman, Maria Teresa, and suppose that it were all done if we were to succeed in doing it? I do not understand you, continued Hermes coldly. There is not a single syllable of sense in all you have just said. What, said the superintendent, surprised? A man like you refused to view the practical bearing of the case? Do you confine yourself to the childish delight of a political illusion and neglect the chances of its being carried into execution? In other words, the reality itself, is it possible? My friend, said Hermes, emphasizing the word with a kind of disdainful familiarity, what does heaven do in order to substitute one king for another? Heaven, exclaimed Fouquette, heaven gives directions to its agent who seizes upon the doomed victim, carries him away, and seats the triumphant rival on the empty throne. But you forget that this agent is called death. Oh, Monsieur de Blay, in heaven's name, tell me if you have had the idea, there is no question of that, Monsignor. You are going beyond the object in view. Who spoke of Louis XIV's death? Who spoke of adopting the example which heaven sets and following out the strict execution of its decrees? No. I wish you to understand that heaven affects its purposes without confusion or disturbance, without exciting comet or remark, without difficulty or exertion, and that men, inspired by heaven, succeed like heaven itself in all their undertakings, in all the attempt, in all they do. What do you mean? I mean my friend. Returned Eremus with the same intonation on the word friend that he had had applied to it the first time. I mean that if there has been any confusion, scandal, and even effort in the substitution of the prisoner for the king, I defy you to prove it. What! cried Fouquette, whiter than the handkerchief with which he wiped his temples. What do you say? Go to the king's apartment, continued Eremus, tranquilly. And you who know the mystery, I defy even you to perceive that the prisoner of the Bastille is lying in his brother's bed. But the king, stammered Fouquette, seized with horror at the intelligence. What king, said Eremus in his gentlest tone, the one who hates you, or the one who likes you? The king of yesterday! The king of yesterday! Be quite easy on that score. He has gone to take the place in the Bastille which his victim occupied for so many years. Great God! And who took him there? I. You? Yes, and in the simplest way. I carried him away last night while he was descending into midnight. While he was descending into midnight, the other was ascending in to-day. I do not think there has been any disturbance, whatever. A flash of lightning without thunder awakens nobody. Fouquette uttered a thick, smothered cry as if he'd 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 was 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. Fouquette made a movement as if he were on the point of springing upon Eremus. 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 it is likely to continue so, since Monsieur Colbert cannot rob you of it now. It was under my roof then, Monsieur, that you committed this crime? This crime, said Eremus, stupefied. This abominable crime, pursued Fouquette, becoming more and more excited. This crime more excruble than an assassination. This crime which dishonors my name forever and entails upon me the horror of posterity. You are not in your senses, Monsieur, replied Eremus in an irresolute tone of voice. You are speaking too loudly. Take care. I will call out so loudly that the whole world shall hear me. Monsieur Fouquette, take care. Fouquette turned round towards the prelate, whom he looked at full in the face. You have dishonored me, he said, in committing so foul an act of treason, so heinous a crime upon my guest, upon one who was peacefully reposing beneath my roof. Oh, woe, woe is me. Woe to the man, rather, who beneath your roof meditated the ruin of your fortune, your life. Do you forget that? He was my guest, my sovereign. Eremus rose, his eyes literally bloodshot, his mouth trembling convulsively. Have I a man out of his senses to deal with, he said. You have an honorable man to deal with. You are mad. A man who will prevent you consummating your crime. You are mad, I say. A man who would sooner, oh, far sooner die, who would kill you even rather than allow you to complete his dishonor. And Fouquette snatched up his sword, which D'Artagnan had placed at the head of his bed, and clenched it resolutely in his hand. Eremus frowned and thrust his hand into his breast as if in search of a weapon. This movement did not escape Fouquette, who, full of nobleness and pride in his magnanimity, threw his sword to a distance from him and approached Eremus so close as to touch his shoulder with his disarmed hand. Monsieur, he said, I would sooner die here on the spot than survive this terrible disgrace, and if you have any pity left for me, I entreat you to take my life. Eremus remained silent, emotionless. You do not reply, said Fouquette. Eremus raised his head gently and a glimmer of hope might be seen once more to animate his eyes. Reflect, Monsignor, he said. Upon everything we have to expect. As the matter now stands, the king is still alive, and his imprisonment saves your life. Yes, replied Fouquette. You may have been acting on my behalf, but I will not, do not accept your services. But first of all, I do not wish your ruin. You will leave this house. Eremus stifled the exclamation which almost escaped his broken heart. I am hospitable towards all who are dwellers beneath my roof, continued Fouquette, with an air of inexpressible majesty. You will not be more fatally lost than he whose ruin you have consummated. You will be so, said Eremus, in a hoarse prophetic voice. You will be so, believe me. I accept the augury, Monsieur de Blay, but nothing shall prevent me. Nothing shall stop me. You will leave though. You must leave France. I give you four hours to place yourself out of the king's reach. Four hours, said Eremus, scornfully and incredulously. Upon the word of Fouquette, no one shall follow you before the expiration of that time. You will therefore have four hours advance of those whom the king may wish to dispatch after you. Four hours, repeated Eremus, in a thick, smothered voice. It is more than you will need to get on board a vessel and flee to Berlil, which I give you as a place of refuge. Ah, murmured Eremus. Berlil is as much mine for you as Fou is mine for the king. Go, de Blay, go. As long as I live, not a hair of your head shall be injured. Thank you, said Eremus, with a cold irony of manner. Go at once, then, and give me your hand before we both hasten away. You to save your life, I to save my honor. Eremus withdrew from his breast the hand he had concealed there. It was stained with his blood. He had dug his nails into his flesh as if in punishment for having nursed so many projects, more vain, insensate, and fleeting than the life of the man himself. Fouquette was horror-stricken, and then his hoat smote him with pity. He threw open his arms as if to embrace him. I had no arms. Eremus murmured as wild and terrible in his wrath as the shade of Daito. And then, without touching Fouquette's hand, he turned his head aside and stepped back a pace or two. His last word was an imprecation. His last gesture, a curse, which his blood-stained hand seemed to invoke as it sprinkled on Fouquette's face a few drops of blood which flowed from his breast. And both of them darted out of the room by the secret staircase, which led down to the inner courtyard. Fouquette ordered his best horses while Eremus paused at the foot of the staircase which led to Porthos' apartment. He reflected profoundly and for some time while Fouquette's carriage left the courtyard at full gallop. "'Shall I go alone?' said Eremus to himself. "'Or warn the Prince.' "'Oh, fury! "'Warn the Prince and then do what? "'Take him with me to carry this accusing witness "'about with me everywhere.' "'War, too, would follow. "'Civil War, implacable in its nature. "'And without any resource, save myself.' "'It is impossible. "'What could he do without me?' "'Oh, without me he will be utterly destroyed. "'Yet who knows? "'Let destiny be fulfilled.' "'Condemn'd he was. "'Let him remain so, then.' "'Good or evil spirit, gloomy or scornful power, "'whom men call the genius of humanity. "'Thou art a power more restlessly uncertain, "'more baselessly useless than wild mountain wind. "'Chance, thou termest thyself, but thou art nothing. "'Thou inflamest everything with thy breath, "'crumbless mountains at thy approach, "'and suddenly art thyself destroyed "'at the presence of the cross of dead wood, "'behind which stand another power, invisible like thyself. "'Whom thou deniest, perhaps? "'But whose avenging hand is on thee, "'and hurls thee in the dust dishonored and unnamed? "'Lost. "'I am lost. "'What can be done? "'Flee to belial? "'Yes, and leave porthos behind me "'to talk and relate the whole affair to everyone. "'Porthos, too, who will have to suffer for what he has done. "'I will not let poor porthos suffer. "'He seems like one of the members of my own frame, "'and his grief for misfortune would be mine as well. "'Porthos shall leave with me, and shall follow my destiny. "'It must be so.'" An erroneous apprehensive of meeting anyone to whom his hurried movements might appear suspicious ascended the staircase without being perceived. Porthos, so recently returned from Paris, was already in a profound sleep. His huge body forgot its fatigue, as his mind forgot its thoughts. Hermas entered, light as a shadow, and placed his nervous grasp on the giant's shoulder. "'Come, porthos!' he cried. "'Come!' Porthos obeyed, rose from his bed, opened his eyes, even before his intelligence seemed to be aroused. "'We leave immediately,' said Hermas. "'Ha!' returned Porthos. "'We shall go mounted, and faster than we have ever gone "'in our lives. "'Ha!' repeated Porthos. "'Dress yourself, my friend.' "'And he helped the giant to dress himself, "'and thrust his gold and diamonds into his pocket. "'Whilst he was thus engaged, "'a slight noise attracted his attention, "'and on looking up he saw dartanian "'watching them through the half-open door.' Hermas started. "'What the devil are you doing there "'in such an agitated manner?' said the musketeer. "'Hush!' said Porthos. "'We are going off on a mission of great importance,' added the bishop. "'You are very fortunate,' said the musketeer. "'Oh, dear me!' said Porthos. "'I feel so wearied. "'I would far sooner have been fast asleep. "'But the service of the king?' "'Have you seen, Monsieur Fouquette?' said Hermas to dartanian. "'Yes, this very minute, in a carriage. "'What did he say to you?' "'I do, nothing more. "'Was that all?' "'What else do you think he could say? "'Am I worth anything now "'since you have gotten to such high favor?' "'Listen,' said Hermas, embracing the musketeer. "'Your good times are returning again. "'You will have no occasion to be jealous of any one.' "'Ha, ha, bah!' "'I predict that something will happen to you today, "'which will increase your importance more than ever.' "'Really?' "'You know that I know all the news.' "'Oh, yes.' "'Come, Porthos, are you ready? "'Let us go.' "'I am quite ready, Hermas.' "'Let us embrace dartanian first.' "'Most certainly.' "'But the horses.' "'Oh, there is no want of them here. "'Will you have mine?' "'No, Porthos has his own stud. "'So, adieu, adieu.' "'The fugitives mounted the horses beneath the very eyes "'of the captain of the musketeers, "'who held Porthos's stirrup for him, "'and gazed after them until they were out of sight. "'On any other occasion,' thought the gaskin, "'I should say that those gentlemen were making their escape. "'But in these days politics seems so changed "'that such an exit is termed going on a mission. "'I had no objection. "'Let me attend to my own affairs. "'That is more than enough for me.' "'And he philosophically entered his apartments.' "'End of chapter.' Chapter 22 of The Man in the Iron Mask. This LibriVox recording is in the public domain and is read by Mark Smith of Simpsonville, South Carolina. The Man in the Iron Mask by Alexandra Dumas. Chapter 22. Showing how the counter-sign was respected at the Bastille. Phuket tore along as fast as his horses could drag him. On his way he trembled with horror at the idea of what had just been revealed to him. "'What must have been?' he thought. "'The youth of those extraordinary men, "'who, even as ages stealing fast upon them, "'are still able to conceive such gigantic plans "'and carry them through without a tremor.' "'At one moment he could not resist the idea "'that all Hermes had just been recounting to him "'was nothing more than a dream, "'and whether the fable itself was not the snare, "'so that when Phuket arrived at the Bastille, "'he might possibly find an order of arrest, "'which would send him to join the dethroned king.' "'Strongly impressed with this idea, "'he gave certain sealed orders on his route, "'while fresh horses were being harnessed to his carriage. "'These orders were addressed to Monsieur d'Artagnan "'and to certain others whose fidelity to the king "'was far above suspicion.' "'In this way,' said Phuket to himself, "'prisoner or not, I shall it perform the duty "'that I owe my honor. "'The orders will not reach them until after my return, "'if I should return free, "'and consequently they will not have been unsealed. "'I shall take them back again. "'If I am delayed it will be because some misfortune "'will have befallen me, "'and in that case assistance will be sent for me "'as well as for the king.' "'Prepared in this manner, "'the superintendent arrived at the Bastille. "'He had traveled at the rate of five leagues "'and a half the hour. "'Every circumstance of delay which Aramis had escaped "'in his visit to the Bastille befell Phuket. "'It was useless giving his name, "'equally useless his being recognized. "'He could not succeed in obtaining an entrance. "'By dint of entreaties, threats, commands, "'he succeeded in inducing a sentinel "'to speak to one of the subalterns, "'who went and told the major. "'As for the governor they did not even dare to disturb him. "'Puket sat in his carriage at the outer gate of the fortress, "'chafing with rage and impatience, "'awaiting the return of the officers, "'who at last reappeared with a sufficiently sulky air. "'Well,' said Phuket impatiently, "'what did the major say?' "'Well, monsieur,' replied the soldier. "'The major laughed in my face. "'He told me that Monsieur Phuket was in vaux, "'and that even where he had Paris, "'Monsieur Phuket would not get up "'it's so early an hour as the present.' "'Maudier, you are an absolute set of fools,' cried the minister, darting out of the carriage, and before the subaltern had time to shut the gate, Phuket sprang through it and ran forward in spite of the soldier who cried out for assistance. Phuket gained ground, regardless of the cries of the man who, however, having at last come up with Phuket, called out to the sentinel of the second gate, "'Look out, look out, sentinel!' The man crossed his pike before the minister, but the latter, robust and active, and hurried away too by his passion, rested the pike from the soldier, and struck him a violent blow on the shoulder with it. The subaltern, who approached too closely, received a share of the blows as well. Both of them uttered loud and furious cries, at the sound of which the whole of the first body of the advance guard poured out of the guard-house. Among them there was one, however, who recognized the superintendent, and who called, "'Monsignor, ah, Monsignor, stop, stop, you fellows!' And he effectually checked the soldiers who were on the point of revenging their companions. Phuket desired them to open the gate, but they refused to do so without the counter-sign. He desired them to inform the governor of his presence, but the latter had already heard the disturbance at the gate. He ran forward, followed by his major, and accompanied by a picket of twenty men, persuaded that an attack was being made on the Bastille. Besmoe also recognized Phuket immediately, and dropped the sword he bravely had been brandishing. "'Ah, Monsignor!' he stammered. "'How can I excuse?' "'Monsieur!' said the superintendent, flushed with anger, and heated by his exertions. "'I congratulate you, your watch and water admirably kept!' Besmoe turned pale, thinking that this remark was made ironically, and portended a furious burst of anger. But Phuket had recovered his breath, and, beckoning the sentinel and the subaltern, who were rubbing their shoulders towards him, he said, "'There are twenty pistolis for the sentinel and fifty for the officer. "'Pray receive my compliments, gentlemen. "'I will not fail to speak to His Majesty about you. "'And now, Monsieur Besmoe, a word with you!'' And he followed the governor to his official residence, accompanied by a murmur of general satisfaction. Besmoe was already trembling with shame and uneasiness. Aramis' early visit from that moment seemed to possess consequences, which a functionary such as he, Besmoe was, was perfectly justified in apprehending. It was quite another thing, however, when Phuket, in a sharp tone of voice, and with an imperious look, said, "'You have seen Monsieur de Blé this morning?'' "'Yes, Monsignor.' "'And are you not horrified at the crime "'of which you have made yourself an accomplice?'' "'Well,' thought Besmoe, good so far.' And then he added aloud, "'But what crime, Monsignor, do you allude to?'' "'That for which you can be quartered alive, Monsieur, "'do not forget that. "'But this is not a time to show anger. "'Conduct me immediately to the prisoner.' "'To what prisoner?' said Besmoe, trembling. "'You pretend to be ignorant. "'Very good. "'It is the best plan for you, perhaps. "'For if, in fact, you were to admit your participation "'in such a crime, it would be all over with you. "'I wish, therefore, to seem to believe "'in your assumption of ignorance.' "'I entreat you, Monsignor. "'That won't do. "'Leave me to the prisoner.' "'To Marquis Ali?' "'Who is Marquis Ali?' "'The prisoner who was brought back this morning by Monsieur de Blay.' "'He is called Marquis Ali,' said the superintendent, his convictions somewhat shaken by Besmoe's cool manner. "'Yes, Monsignor, that is the name under which he was inscribed here.' Thouquette looks steadily at Besmoe, as if he would read his very heart, and perceived with that clear-sightedness most men possess who are accustomed to the exercise of power, that the man was speaking with perfect sincerity. Besides, in observing his face for a few moments, he could not believe that Aramis would have chosen such a confidant. "'It is the prisoner,' said the superintendent to him, "'who, Monsieur de Blay, carried away the day before yesterday?' "'Yes, Monsignor.' "'And whom he brought back this morning?' added Fouquette quickly, for he understood immediately the mechanism of Aramis's plan. "'Precisely, Monsignor.' "'And his name is Marquis Ali, you say?' "'Yes, Marquis Ali. If Monsignor has come here to remove him, so much the better, for I was going to write about him.' "'What has he done, then?' Ever since this morning he has annoyed me extremely. He has had such terrible fits of passion as almost to make me believe that he would bring the Bastille itself down about our years. "'I will soon relieve you of his possession,' said Fouquette. "'Ah, so much the better. "'Conduct me to his prison.' "'Will Monsignor give me the order?' "'What order?' "'An order from the king.' "'Wait until I sign you one.' "'That will not be sufficient, Monsignor. "'I must have an order from the king.' Fouquette assumed an irritated expression. "'As you are so scrupulous,' he said, "'with regard to allowing prisoners to leave, "'show me the order by which this one was set at liberty.' Besmo showed him the order to release Seldon. "'Very good,' said Fouquette. "'But Seldon is not Marquis Ali.' "'But Marquis Ali is not at liberty, Monsignor. He is here.' "'But you said that M. de Blay carried him away "'and brought him back again.' "'I did not say so.' "'So surely did you say it that he almost seemed to hear it now?' "'It was a slip of my tongue, then, Monsignor.' "'Take care, M. de Besmo. Take care.' "'I have nothing to fear, Monsignor. "'I am acting according to the very strictest regulation.' "'Do you dare to say so?' "'I would say so in the presence of one of the apostles. "'Mr. de Blay brought me an order to set Seldon at liberty. "'Seldon is free.' "'I tell you that Marquis Ali has left the Bastille.' "'You must prove that, Monsignor.' "'Let me see him.' "'You, Monsignor, who govern this kingdom know very well "'that no one can see any of the prisoners "'without an express order from the king.' "'Mr. de Blay has entered, however.' "'That remains to be proved, Monsignor.' "'Mr. de Besmo, once again I warn you "'to pay particular attention to what you are saying.' "'All the documents are there, Monsignor.' "'Mr. de Blay is overthrown.' "'Overthrown?' "'Mr. de Blay, impossible!' "'You see that he has undoubtedly influenced you?' "'No, Monsignor. "'What does, in fact, influence me is the king's service. "'I am doing my duty. "'Give me an order from him and you shall enter.' "'Stay, Mr. de Gov. "'I give you my word that if you will allow me to see the prisoner, "'I will give you an order from the king at once.' "'Give it to me now, Monsignor.' "'And that if you refuse me, I will have you "'and all your officers arrested on the spot.' "'Before you commit such an act of violence, Monsignor, "'you will reflect,' said Besmo, who had turned very pale, "'that we will only obey an order signed by the king, "'and that it will be just as easy for you "'to obtain one to see Machiali "'as to obtain one to do me so much injury, "'me too, who am perfectly innocent.' "'True, true!' cried Fouquet furiously. "'Perfectly true!' "'Mr. de Besmo,' he added in a sonorous voice, "'drawing the unhappy governor towards him, "'do you know why I am so anxious to speak to the prisoner? "'No, Monsignor, and allow me to observe "'that you are terrifying me out of my senses. "'I am trembling all over. "'In fact, I feel as though I were about to faint.' "'You will stand a better chance of fainting outright, "'Mr. Besmo, when I return here at the head of 10,000 men "'and 30 pieces of cannon.' "'Good heavens, Monsignor, you are losing your senses. "'When I have roused the whole population of Paris "'against you and your accursed towers, "'and have battered open the gates of this place "'and hanged you to the topmost tree of Yonder pinnacle, "'Monsignor, Monsignor, for pity's sake, "'I give you 10 minutes to make up your mind,' added Fouquet, "'in a calm voice, "'I will sit down here in this armchair and wait for you. "'If in 10 minutes' time you still persist, "'I leave this place, "'and you may think me as mad as you like, "'then you shall see.' "'Besmo stamped his foot on the ground "'like a man in a state of despair, "'but he did not reply a single syllable, "'whereupon Fouquet seized a pen and ink and wrote, "'Order for Monsieur de Prevot des Marchants "'to assemble the municipal guard "'and to march upon the Bastille "'on the king's immediate service.' "'Besmo shrugged his shoulders. "'Fouquet wrote, "'Order for the Duc de Bouillon "'and Monsieur le Prince de Comde "'to assume the command of the Swiss guards, "'of the king's guards, "'and to march upon the Bastille "'on the king's immediate service.' "'Besmo reflected.' "'Fouquet still wrote, "'Order for every soldier, citizen or gentleman, "'to seize and apprehend "'wherever he may be found, "'le Chevalier de Blay, "'Evec de Vannes, "'and his accomplices, who are, "'first, Monsieur de Besmo, "'Governor of the Bastille, "'suspected of the crimes "'of high treason and rebellion.' "'Stop, Monsignor,' cried Besmo. "'I do not understand a single jot "'of the whole matter. "'But so many misfortunes, "'even were it madness itself "'that had set them at their awful work, "'might happen here in a couple of hours, "'that the king, by whom I must be judged, "'will see whether I have been wronging "'withdrawing the counter-sign "'before this flood of imminent catastrophes. "'Come with me to the quete, Monsignor. "'You shall see Marquiali.' "'Fouquet darted out of the room, "'followed by Besmo as he wiped "'the perspiration from his face. "'What a terrible morning,' he said. "'What a disgrace for me.' "'Walk faster,' replied Fouquet. "'Besmo made a sign to the jailer to precede them. "'He was afraid of his companion, "'which the latter could not fail to perceive. "'A truce to this child's play,' he said roughly, "'let the man remain here. "'Take the keys yourself and show me the way. "'Not a single person do you understand. "'Must hear what is going to take place here.' "'Ah,' said Besmo, undecided. "'Again!' cried Mr. Fouquet. "'Ah, say no at once, and I will leave the Bastille "'and will myself carry my own dispatches.' Besmo bowed his head, took the keys, "'and, unaccompanied, except by the minister, "'ascended the staircase. "'The higher they advanced up the spiral staircase, "'the more clearly did certain muffled murmurs "'become distinct appeals and fearful implications.' "'What is that?' asked Fouquet. "'That is your Marquiali,' said the governor. "'This is the way these madmen scream.' "'And he accompanied that reply with a glance more pregnant, "'with injurious illusion, as far as Fouquet was concerned, "'than politeness. "'The latter trembled. "'He had just recognized in one cry more terrible "'than any that had preceded it, the king's voice.' "'He paused on the staircase, "'snatching the bunch of keys from Besmo, "'who thought this new madman was going to dash out "'his brains with one of them.' "'Ah!' he cried. "'Mr. de Blay did not say a word about that.' "'Give me the keys at once!' cried Fouquet, "'tearing them from his hand. "'Which is the key of the door I am to open?' "'That one.' "'A fearful cry, followed by a violent blow against the door, "'made the whole staircase resound with the echo. "'Leave this place,' said Fouquet to Besmo "'in a threatening tone. "'I asked nothing better.' "'Memored the latter to himself. "'There will be a couple of madmen face to face, "'and the one will kill the other, I am sure.' "'Go,' repeated Fouquet, "'if you place your foot on this staircase "'before I call you, remember that you shall take the place "'of the meanest prisoner in the Bastille.' "'This job will kill me, I am sure it will,' muttered Besmo as he withdrew with tottering steps. "'The prisoner's cries became more and more terrible. "'When Fouquet had satisfied himself "'that Besmo had reached the bottom of the staircase, "'he inserted the key in the first lock. "'It was then that he heard the horse-choking voice "'of the king, crying out in a frenzy of rage. "'Help, help, I am the king!' "'The key of the second door was not the same as the first, "'and Fouquet was obliged to look for it on the bunch. "'The king, however, furious and almost mad "'with rage and passion, shouted at the top of his voice, "'It was Monsieur Fouquet who brought me here! "'Help me against Monsieur Fouquet! "'I am the king! "'Help the king against Monsieur Fouquet!' "'These cries filled the minister's heart "'with terrible emotions. "'They were followed by a shower of blows "'level against the door with the part of a broken chair "'with which the king had armed himself. "'Fouquet at last succeeded in finding the key. "'The king was almost exhausted. "'He could hardly articulate distinctly as he shouted, "'Death to Fouquet! "'Death to the traitor Fouquet!' "'The door flew open. "'End of chapter.' Chapter 23 Of The Man in the Iron Mask This LibriVox recording is in the public domain and is read by Mark Smith of Simpsonville, South Carolina. The Man in the Iron Mask by Alexander Dumas Chapter 23 The King's Gratitude The two men were on the point of darting towards each other when they suddenly and abruptly stopped as a mutual recognition took place and each uttered a cry of horror. "'Have you come to assassinate me, Monsieur?' said the king when he recognized Fouquet. "'The king in this state!' murmured the minister. "'Nothing could be more terrible indeed "'than the appearance of the young prince "'at the moment Fouquet had surprised him. "'His clothes were in tatters. "'His shirt, open and torn to rags, "'was stained with sweat and with the blood "'which streamed from his lacerated breast and arms. "'Haggered, ghastly pale, his hair in dishevelled masses. "'Louis XIV presented the most perfect picture of despair, "'distress, anger, and fear combined "'that could possibly be united in one figure. "'Fouquet was so touched, so affected and disturbed by it "'that he ran towards him with his arms stretched out "'and his eyes filled with tears. "'Louis held up the massive piece of wood "'of which he had made such a furious use. "'Sire,' said Fouquet, in a voice trembling with emotion, "'do you not recognize the most faithful of your friends?' "'A friend? You!' repeated Louis, gnashing his teeth "'in a manner which portrayed his hate and desire "'for speedy vengeance. "'The most respectful of your servants!' added Fouquet, "'throwing himself on his knees. "'The king let the rude weapon fall from his grasp. "'Fouquet approached him, kissed his knees, "'and took him in his arms with inconceivable tenderness. "'My king, my child,' he said, "'how you must have suffered!' Louis, recalled to himself by the change of situation, looked at himself and ashamed of the disordered state of his apparel, ashamed of his conduct, and ashamed of the air of pity and protection that was shown towards him, drew back. Fouquet did not understand this movement. He did not perceive that the king's feeling of pride would never forgive him for having been a witness of such an exhibition of weakness. "'Come, Sire,' he said, "'you are free!' "'Free,' repeated the king. "'Oh, you set me at liberty, then, "'after having dared to lift up your hand against me!' "'You do not believe that!' exclaimed Fouquet indignantly. "'You cannot believe me to be guilty of such an act!' "'And rapidly, warmly even, "'he related the whole particulars of the intrigue, "'the details of which are already known to the reader. "'While the recital continued, "'Louis suffered the most horrible anguish of mind, "'and when it was finished, "'the magnitude of the danger he had run "'struck him far more than the importance "'of the secret relative to his twin brother.' "'Monsieur,' he said, suddenly to Fouquet, "'this double-birth is a falsehood. "'It is impossible. "'You cannot have been the dupe of it.' "'Sire!' "'It is impossible. "'I tell you that the honor, "'the virtue of my mother can be suspected, "'and my first minister has not yet done justice "'on the criminals.' "'Reflex, Sire, before you are hurried away by anger,' replied Fouquet, "'the birth of your brother, "'I have only one brother, and that is Monsieur. "'You know it as well as myself. "'There is a plot, I tell you, "'beginning with the governor of the Bastille.' "'Be careful, Sire, "'for this man has been deceived "'as everyone else has by the prince's likeness to yourself. "'Likeness? Absurd. "'This Marquis Ali must be singularly like your majesty "'to be able to deceive everyone's eye,' Fouquet persisted. "'Ridiculous. "'Do not say so, Sire. "'Those who had prepared everything in order to face "'and deceive your ministers, "'your mother, your officers of state, "'the members of your family "'must be quite confident of the resemblance between you. "'But where are these persons, then?' "'Member the king. "'At Vaux. "'At Vaux, and you suffer them to remain there. "'My most instant duty appeared to me "'to be your majesty's release. "'I have accomplished that duty, "'and now, whatever your majesty may command, "'shall be done. "'I await your orders.' "'Louis reflected for a few moments. "'Muster all the troops in Paris,' he said. "'All the necessary orders are given for that purpose,' replied Fouquet. "'You have given orders,' exclaimed the king. "'For that purpose, yes, Sire, "'your majesty will be at the head of 10,000 men "'in less than an hour.' "'The only reply the king made was to take hold of Fouquet's hand "'with such an expression of feeling "'that it was very easy to perceive how strongly he had, "'until that remarked, maintained his suspicions "'of the minister, notwithstanding the latter's intervention. "'And with these troops,' he said, "'we shall go at once and besiege your house. "'The rebels who by this time will have established "'and entrenched themselves, they're in. "'I should be surprised if that were the case,' replied Fouquet. "'Why? "'Because their chief, the very soul of the enterprise, "'having been unmasked by me, "'the whole plan seems to me to have miscarried. "'You have unmasked this false prince also? "'No, I have not seen him.' "'Whom have you seen, then?' "'The leader of the enterprise, not that unhappy young man, "'the latter is merely an instrument, "'destined through his whole life to wretchedness, "'I plainly perceive. "'Most certainly. "'It is M. Le Bay du Bleu, Évec de Van. "'Your friend?' "'He was my friend, Sire,' replied Fouquet nobly. "'An unfortunate circumstance for you,' said the king "'in a less generous tone of voice. "'Such friendship, Sire, had nothing dishonorable in them "'as so long as I was ignorant of the crime. "'You should have foreseen it. "'If I am guilty, I place myself in your Majesty's hands. "'Ah, M. Fouquet, it was not that I meant,' returned the king, "'sorry to have shown the bitterness of his thought "'in such a manner. "'Well, I assure you that, notwithstanding the mask "'with which the villain covered his face, "'I had something like a vague suspicion "'that he was the very man. "'But with this chief of the enterprise, "'there was a man of prodigious strength, "'the one who menaced me with a force almost Herculean. "'What is he?' "'It must be his friend, the Baron du Vallon, "'formerly one of the Musketeers.' "'The friend of D'Artagnan? "'The friend of the Compt de la Faire? "'Ah!' exclaimed the king, as he paused at the name "'of the latter. "'We must not forget the connection that existed "'between the conspirators and M. Bragelon. "'Sire, do not go too far. "'M. de la Faire is the most honorable man in France. "'Be satisfied with those whom I deliver up to you. "'With those whom you deliver up to me, you say, "'very good, for you will deliver up those "'who are guilty to me. "'What does your Majesty understand by that?' "'Inquired Phuket. "'I understand,' replied the king, "'that we shall soon arrive at Vaux "'with a large body of troops, "'and that we will lay violent hands "'upon that nest of vipers, "'and that not a soul shall escape. "'Your Majesty will put these men to death,' "'cried Phuket, "'to the very meanest of them. "'Oh, Sire!' "'Let us understand one another, M. Phuket,' said the king, "'hotterly. "'We no longer live in times when assassination "'was the only and the last resource "'kings held in reservation at extremity. "'No, heaven be praised. "'I have parliaments who sit and judge in my name, "'and I have scaffolds on which "'Supreme authority is carried out.' "'Phuket turned pale. "'I will take the liberty of observing to Your Majesty "'that any proceedings instituted respecting these matters "'would bring down the greatest scandal "'upon the dignity of the throne. "'The august name of Anne of Austria must never be allowed "'to pass the lips of the people accompanied by a smile. "'Justice must be done, however, monsieur.' "'Good, Sire, but royal blood must not be shared "'upon a scaffold.' "'The royal blood? You believe that?' cried the king, "'with fury in his voice, stamping his foot on the ground. "'This double-birth is an invention, "'and in that invention particularly, "'do I see monsieur to blaze crime? "'It is the crime I wish to punish "'rather than the violence or the insult, "'and punish it with death, Sire?' "'With death? Yes, monsieur. I have said it.' "'Sire,' said the sir, intended, with firmness, "'as he raised his head proudly, "'Your Majesty will take the life, if you please, "'of your brother Philippe of France. "'That concerns you alone, "'and you will doubtless consult the Queen Mother "'upon the subject. "'Whatever she may command will be perfectly correct. "'I do not wish to mix myself up in it, "'not even for the honor of your crown, "'but I have a favor to ask of you, "'and I beg to submit it to you.' "'Speak,' said the king, "'in no little degree agitated by his ministers' last words. "'What do you require? "'The pardon of Monsieur de Blé and Monsieur du Valon. "'My assassins? "'Two rebels, Sire, that is all. "'Oh, I understand, then. "'You ask me to forgive your friends.' "'My friends,' said Fouquette, deeply wounded. "'Your friends, certainly, "'but the safety of the state requires "'that an exemplary punishment should be inflicted "'on the guilty. "'I will not permit myself to remind your Majesty "'that I have just restored you to liberty "'and have saved your life. "'Monsieur, I will not allow myself to remind your Majesty "'that had Monsieur de Blé wish to carry out "'his character of an assassin, "'he could very easily have assassinated your Majesty "'this morning in the forest of Sennar, "'and all would have been over.' The king started. "'A pistol bullet through the head,' pursued Fouquette, "'and the disfigured features of Louis XIV, "'which no one could have recognized, "'would be Monsieur de Blé's complete and entire justification.' "'The king turned pale and giddy at the bare idea "'of the danger he had escaped.' "'If Monsieur de Blé,' continued Fouquette, "'had been an assassin, "'he had no occasion to inform me of his plan "'in order to succeed. "'Freed from the reedle king, "'it would have been impossible in all futurity "'to guess the false. "'And if the usurper had been recognized by Anne of Austria, "'he would still have been her son.' "'The usurper, as far as Monsieur de Blé's conscious "'was concerned, was still a king of the blood of Louis XIII. "'Moreover, the conspirator in that course "'would have had security, secrecy, impunity. "'A pistol bullet would have procured him all that. "'For the sake of Heaven's sire, "'grant me his forgiveness.' "'The king, instead of being touched by the picture, "'so faithfully drawn in all details "'of Hermes's generosity, "'felt himself most painfully and cruelly humiliated. "'His unconquerable pride revolted at the idea "'that a man had held suspended at the end of his finger "'the threat of his royal life. "'Every word that fell from Fouquette's lips, "'and which he thought most efficacious "'in procuring his friend's pardon, "'seemed to pour another drop of poison "'into the already ulcerated heart of Louis XIV. "'Nothing could bend or soften him. "'Addressing himself to Fouquette, he said, "'I really don't know, monsieur, "'why you should solicit the pardon of these men. "'What good is there in asking that "'which can be obtained without solicitation?' "'I do not understand, your sire.' "'It is not difficult, either. "'Where am I now?' "'In the Bastille, sire.' "'Yes, in a dungeon. "'I am looked upon as a madman. "'Am I not?' "'Yes, sire.' "'And no one is known here but Machiali?' "'Certainly.' "'Well, change nothing in the position of affairs. "'Let the poor madman rot between the slimy walls "'of the Bastille, and monsieur de Blay "'and monsieur de Valant will stand in no need of my forgiveness. "'Their new king will absolve them.' "'Your Majesty does me a great injustice, sire, "'and you are wrong,' replied Fouquette, dryly. "'I am not childly enough, nor is monsieur de Blay silly enough "'to have omitted to make all these reflections. "'And if I had wished to make a new king, as you say, "'I had no occasion to come here to force open the gates and doors "'of the Bastille to free you from this place. "'That would show a want of even common sense. "'Your Majesty's mind is disturbed by anger. "'Otherwise you would be far from offending, groundlessly, "'the very one of your servants who has rendered you "'the most important service of all.' "'Louis perceived that he had gone too far, "'that the gates of the Bastille were still closed upon him, "'whilst by degrees the flood-gates were gradually being opened, "'behind which the generous-hearted Fouquette had restrained his anger.' "'I did not say that to humiliate you, heaven knows, monsieur,' he replied. "'Only you are addressing yourself to me in order to obtain a pardon, "'and an answer according to my conscience. "'And so, judging by my conscience, "'the criminals we speak of are not worthy of consideration or forgiveness.' Fouquette was silent. "'What I do is as generous,' added the King, "'as what you have done, for I am in your power. "'I will even say it is more generous, "'in as much as you place before me certain conditions upon which "'my liberty, my life, may depend, "'and to reject which is to make a sacrifice of both. "'I was wrong, certainly,' replied Fouquette. "'Yes, I had the appearance of extorting a favour. "'I regret it, and entreat your Majesty's forgiveness.' "'And you are forgiven, my dear monsieur Fouquette,' said the King, with a smile which restored the serene expression of his features, which so many circumstances had altered during the preceding evening. "'I have my own forgiveness,' replied the Minister, "'with some degree of persistence. "'But, monsieur de Blay, and monsieur du Valon, "'they will never obtain theirs, as long as I live,' replied the inflexible King. "'Do me the kindness not to speak of it again. "'Your Majesty shall be obeyed. "'And you will bear me no ill will for it? "'Oh, no, Sire, for I anticipated the event. "'You had anticipated that I should refuse to forgive those gentlemen? "'Certainly, and all my measures were taken in consequence.' "'What do you mean to say?' cried the King, surprised. "'Monsieur de Blay came, as may be said, "'to deliver himself into my hands. "'Monsieur de Blay left to me the happiness of saving my King and my country. "'I could not condemn monsieur de Blay to death, "'nor could I, on the other hand, expose him to your Majesty's justifiable wrath. "'It would have been just the same as if I had killed him myself.' "'Well, and what have you done?' "'Sire, I gave monsieur de Blay the best horses in my stables, "'and four hours start over all those your Majesty might probably dispatch after him.' "'Be it so,' murmured the King. "'But still, the world is wide enough and large enough for those whom I may send "'to overtake your horses, notwithstanding the four hours start "'what you have given to monsieur de Blay. "'In giving him these four hours, Sire, "'I knew I was giving him his life, and he will save his life.' "'In what way?' "'After having galloped as hard as possible, "'with the four hours start, before your musketeers, "'he will reach my chateau of Belial, where I have given him a safe asylum.' "'That may be, but you forget that you have made me a present of Belial. "'But not for you to arrest my friends?' "'You take it back again, then?' "'As far as that goes, yes, Sire.' "'My musketeers shall capture it, and the affair will be at an end.' "'Neither your musketeers nor your whole army could take Belial,' said Phuket coldly. "'Belial is impregnable.' The King became perfectly livid. A lightning flash seemed to dart from his eyes. Phuket felt that he was lost, but he was not one to shrink when the voice of honour spoke loudly within him. He bore the King's wrathful gaze. The others swallowed his rage, and after a few moments silence said, "'Are we going to return to Vaux?' "'I am at your Majesty's orders,' replied Phuket with a low bow. "'But I think that your Majesty can hardly dispense with changing your clothes previous to appearing before your court.' "'We shall pass by the Louvre,' said the King. "'Come!' And they left the prison, passing before Besmo, who looked completely bewildered as he saw Marquis Ali once more leave, and in his helplessness tore out the major portion of his few remaining hairs. It was perfectly true, however, that Phuket wrote and gave him an authority for the prisoner's release, and that the King wrote beneath it, Seeing and Approve, Louis, a piece of madness that Besmo, incapable of putting two ideas together, acknowledged by giving himself a terrible blow on the forehead with his own fist.