The Man in the Iron Mask
Colbert.
History will tell us, or history has told us, of the events of the day, of the by the to his sovereign. Nothing but and was allowed to the whole of the day; there was a promenade, a banquet, a to be acted, and a comedy, too, in which, to his great amazement, Porthos “M. Coquelin de Voliere” as one of the actors, in the piece called “Les Facheux.” Full of preoccupation, however, from the of the previous evening, and from the of the which Colbert had then to him, the king, the whole of the day, so in its effects, so full of and novelties, in which all the of the “Arabian Night’s Entertainments” to be for his amusement—the king, we say, himself cold, reserved, and taciturn. Nothing the upon his face; every one who him noticed that a of resentment, of origin, by slow degrees, as the a river, thanks to the thousand of water that its body, was alive in the of the king’s heart. Towards the middle of the day only did he to a little of manner, and by that time he had, in all probability, up his mind. Aramis, who him step by step in his thoughts, as in his walk, that the event he was would not be long it was announced. This time Colbert to walk in with the of Vannes, and had he for every which he on the king a word of direction from Aramis, he not have done better. During the whole of the day the king, who, in all probability, to free himself from some of the which his mind, to La Valliere’s as as he to his to that of M. Colbert or M. Fouquet. The came. The king had a wish not to walk in the park until after cards in the evening. In the supper and the promenade, cards and were introduced. The king a thousand pistoles, and, having them, put them in his pocket, and then rose, saying, “And now, gentlemen, to the park.” He the ladies of the were already there. The king, we have observed, had a thousand pistoles, and had put them in his pocket; but M. Fouquet had somehow to ten thousand, so that among the there was still left a hundred and ninety thousand francs’ profit to divide, a which the of the and the officers of the king’s the most in the world. It was not the same, however, with the king’s face; for, his success at play, to which he was by no means insensible, there still a of dissatisfaction. Colbert was waiting for or upon him at the of one of the avenues; he was most waiting there in of a which had been him by the king, as Louis XIV., who had him, or who had to avoid him, him a sign, and they then into the of the park together. But La Valliere, too, had the king’s and glances; she had this—and as nothing which or in his was from the of her affection, she that this some one; she prepared to the of his vengeance, and like an of mercy. Overcome by sadness, agitated, at having been so long from her lover, at the of the she had divined, she presented herself to the king with an embarrassed aspect, which in his then of mind the king unfavorably. Then, as they were alone—nearly alone, as Colbert, as soon as he the girl approaching, had stopped and a dozen paces—the king La Valliere and took her by the hand. “Mademoiselle,” he said to her, “should I be of an if I were to if you were indisposed? for you to breathe as if you were by some of uneasiness, and your are with tears.”
“Oh! sire, if I be so, and if my are full of tears, I am only at the which to your majesty.”
“My sadness? You are mistaken, mademoiselle; no, it is not I experience.”
“What is it, then, sire?”
“Humiliation.”
“Humiliation? oh! sire, what a word for you to use!”
“I mean, mademoiselle, that I may to be, no one else ought to be the master. Well, then, look you on every side, and judge I am not eclipsed—I, the king of France—before the of these wide domains. Oh!” he continued, his hands and teeth, “when I think that this king—”
“Well, sire?” said Louise, terrified.
“—That this king is a faithless, servant, who proud and self-sufficient upon the of property that to me, and which he has stolen. And therefore I am about to this minister’s into and mourning, of which the of Vaux, as the say, shall not soon the remembrance.”
“Oh! your majesty—”
“Well, mademoiselle, are you about to take M. Fouquet’s part?” said Louis, impatiently.
“No, sire; I will only ask you are well informed. Your has more than once learned the value of at court.”
Louis XIV. a for Colbert to approach. “Speak, Monsieur Colbert,” said the prince, “for I almost that Mademoiselle de la Valliere has need of your she can put any in the king’s word. Tell what M. Fouquet has done; and you, mademoiselle, will have the to listen. It will not be long.”
Why did Louis XIV. upon it in such a manner? A very reason—his was not at rest, his mind was not convinced; he there some dark, hidden, these thirteen millions of francs; and he that the pure of La Valliere, which had at the idea of or robbery, should approve—even were it only by a single word—the he had taken, and which, nevertheless, he into execution.
“Speak, monsieur,” said La Valliere to Colbert, who had advanced; “speak, since the king me to to you. Tell me, what is the with which M. Fouquet is charged?”
“Oh! not very heinous, mademoiselle,” he returned, “a of confidence.”
“Speak, speak, Colbert; and when you have related it, us, and go and M. d’Artagnan that I have orders to give him.”
“M. d’Artagnan, sire!” La Valliere; “but why send for M. d’Artagnan? I you to tell me.”
“Pardieu! in order to this haughty, Titan who, true to his menace, to my heaven.”
“Arrest M. Fouquet, do you say?”
“Ah! that you?”
“In his own house!”
“Why not? If he be guilty, he is as in his own house as else.”
“M. Fouquet, who at this moment is himself for his sovereign.”
“In plain truth, mademoiselle, it as if you were this traitor.”
Colbert to silently. The king at the of this mirth.
“Sire,” said La Valliere, “it is not M. Fouquet I am defending; it is yourself.”
“Me! you are me?”
“Sire, you would if you were to give such an order.”
“Dishonor myself!” the king, with anger. “In plain truth, mademoiselle, you a in what you say.”
“If I do, sire, my only is that of your majesty,” the noble-hearted girl: “for that I would risk, I would my very life, without the least reserve.”
Colbert to and complain. La Valliere, that timid, lamb, upon him, and with a like upon him. “Monsieur,” she said, “when the king well, whether, in doing so, he either myself or those who to me an injury, I have nothing to say; but were the king to a either upon me or mine, and if he badly, I should tell him so.”
“But it to me, mademoiselle,” Colbert to say, “that I too love the king.”
“Yes, monseigneur, we love him, but each in a different manner,” La Valliere, with such an that the of the king was powerfully by it. “I love him so deeply, that the whole world is aware of it; so purely, that the king himself not my affection. He is my king and my master; I am the least of all his servants. But touches his my life. Therefore, I repeat, that they the king who him to M. Fouquet under his own roof.”
Colbert his head, for he that the king had him. However, as he his head, he murmured, “Mademoiselle, I have only one word to say.”
“Do not say it, then, monsieur; for I would not to it. Besides, what you have to tell me? That M. Fouquet has been of crimes? I he has, the king has said so; and, from the moment the king said, ‘I think so,’ I have no occasion for other to say, ‘I it.’ But, were M. Fouquet the of men, I should say aloud, ‘M. Fouquet’s person is to the king he is the guest of M. Fouquet. Were his house a of thieves, were Vaux a of or robbers, his home is sacred, his is inviolable, since his wife is in it; and that is an which would not to violate.’”
La Valliere paused, and was silent. In of himself the king not but her; he was by the energy of her voice; by the of the she advocated. Colbert yielded, overcome by the of the struggle. At last the king again more freely, his head, and out his hand to La Valliere. “Mademoiselle,” he said, gently, “why do you decide against me? Do you know what this will do, if I give him time to breathe again?”
“Is he not a which will always be your grasp?”
“Should he escape, and take to flight?” Colbert.
“Well, monsieur, it will always on record, to the king’s honor, that he allowed M. Fouquet to flee; and the more he may have been, the will the king’s and appear, with such and shame.”
Louis La Valliere’s hand, as he her.
“I am lost,” Colbert; then his up again. “Oh! no, no, aha, old fox!—not yet,” he said to himself.
And while the king, protected from by the thick of an lime, pressed La Valliere to his breast, with all the of affection, Colbert among the papers in his pocket-book and out of it a paper in the of a letter, yellow, perhaps, but one that must have been most precious, since the as he looked at it; he then a look, full of hatred, upon the group which the girl and the king together—a group but for a moment, as the light of the upon it. Louis noticed the light upon La Valliere’s white dress. “Leave me, Louise,” he said, “for some one is coming.”
“Mademoiselle, mademoiselle, some one is coming,” Colbert, to the girl’s departure.
Louise among the trees; and then, as the king, who had been on his the girl, was from his posture, Colbert exclaimed, “Ah! Mademoiselle de la Valliere has let something fall.”
“What is it?” the king.
“A paper—a letter—something white; look there, sire.”
The king and up the letter, it in his hand, as he did so; and at the same moment the arrived, the of the with a of light as as day.
