The Man in the Iron Mask
Showing How the Countersign Was Respected at the Bastile.
Fouquet along as fast as his him. On his way he with at the idea of what had just been to him.
“What must have been,” he thought, “the of those men, who, as age is fast upon them, are still able to such plans, and them through without a tremor?”
At one moment he not the idea that all Aramis had just been to him was nothing more than a dream, and the itself was not the snare; so that when Fouquet at the Bastile, he might possibly an order of arrest, which would send him to join the king. Strongly with this idea, he gave sealed orders on his route, while fresh were being to his carriage. These orders were to M. d’Artagnan and to others to the king was above suspicion.
“In this way,” said Fouquet to himself, “prisoner or not, I shall have performed the that I my honor. The orders will not them until after my return, if I should return free, and they will not have been unsealed. I shall take them again. If I am delayed; it will be some will have me; and in that case will be sent for me as well as for the king.”
Prepared in this manner, the at the Bastile; he had at the of five and a the hour. Every of which Aramis had in his visit to the Bastile Fouquet. It was his name, his being recognized; he not succeed in an entrance. By of entreaties, threats, commands, he succeeded in a to speak to one of the subalterns, who and told the major. As for the they did not him. Fouquet sat in his carriage, at the gate of the fortress, with and impatience, the return of the officers, who at last re-appeared with a air.
“Well,” said Fouquet, impatiently, “what did the major say?”
“Well, monsieur,” the soldier, “the major laughed in my face. He told me that M. Fouquet was at Vaux, and that were he at Paris, M. Fouquet would not up at so early an hour as the present.”
“Mordieu! you are an set of fools,” the minister, out of the carriage; and the had time to the gate, Fouquet through it, and ran in of the soldier, who out for assistance. Fouquet ground, of the of the man, who, however, having at last come up with Fouquet, called out to the of the second gate, “Look out, look out, sentinel!” The man his the minister; but the latter, and active, and away, too, by his passion, the from the soldier and him a on the with it. The subaltern, who approached too closely, a of the as well. Both of them loud and cries, at the of which the whole of the of the out of the guardhouse. Among them there was one, however, who the superintendent, and who called, “Monseigneur, ah! monseigneur. Stop, stop, you fellows!” And he the soldiers, who were on the point of their companions. Fouquet them to open the gate, but they to do so without the countersign; he them to the of his presence; but the had already the at the gate. He ran forward, by his major, and by a of twenty men, that an attack was being on the Bastile. Baisemeaux also Fouquet immediately, and the he had been brandishing.
“Ah! monseigneur,” he stammered, “how can I excuse—”
“Monsieur,” said the superintendent, with anger, and by his exertions, “I you. Your watch and are kept.”
Baisemeaux pale, that this was ironically, and a of anger. But Fouquet had his breath, and, the and the subaltern, who were their shoulders, him, he said, “There are twenty for the sentinel, and fifty for the officer. Pray my compliments, gentlemen. I will not fail to speak to his about you. And now, M. Baisemeaux, a word with you.”
And he the to his official residence, by a of satisfaction. Baisemeaux was already with and uneasiness. Aramis’s early visit, from that moment, to consequences, which a such as he (Baisemeaux) was, was perfectly in apprehending. It was another thing, however, when Fouquet in a of voice, and with an look, said, “You have M. d’Herblay this morning?”
“Yes, monseigneur.”
“And are you not at the of which you have an accomplice?”
“Well,” Baisemeaux, “good so far;” and then he added, aloud, “But what crime, monseigneur, do you to?”
“That for which you can be alive, monsieur—do not that! But this is not a time to anger. Conduct me to the prisoner.”
“To what prisoner?” said Baisemeaux, trembling.
“You to be ignorant? Very good—it is the best plan for you, perhaps; for if, in fact, you were to admit your in such a crime, it would be all over with you. I wish, therefore, to to in your of ignorance.”
“I you, monseigneur—”
“That will do. Lead me to the prisoner.”
“To Marchiali?”
“Who is Marchiali?”
“The who was this by M. d’Herblay.”
“He is called Marchiali?” said the superintendent, his by Baisemeaux’s manner.
“Yes, monseigneur; that is the name under which he was here.”
Fouquet looked at Baisemeaux, as if he would read his very heart; and perceived, with that clear-sightedness most men who are to the of power, that the man was speaking with perfect sincerity. Besides, in his for a moments, he not that Aramis would have such a confidant.
“It is the prisoner,” said the to him, “whom M. d’Herblay away the day yesterday?”
“Yes, monseigneur.”
“And he this morning?” added Fouquet, quickly: for he the of Aramis’s plan.
“Precisely, monseigneur.”
“And his name is Marchiali, you say?”
“Yes, Marchiali. If has come here to remove him, so much the better, for I was going to about him.”
“What has he done, then?”
“Ever since this he has me extremely. He has had such terrible of passion, as almost to make me that he would the Bastile itself about our ears.”
“I will soon you of his possession,” said Fouquet.
“Ah! so much the better.”
“Conduct me to his prison.”
“Will give me the order?”
“What order?”
“An order from the king.”
“Wait until I you one.”
“That will not be sufficient, monseigneur. I must have an order from the king.”
Fouquet an expression. “As you are so scrupulous,” he said, “with to to leave, me the order by which this one was set at liberty.”
Baisemeaux him the order to Seldon.
“Very good,” said Fouquet; “but Seldon is not Marchiali.”
“But Marchiali is not at liberty, monseigneur; he is here.”
“But you said that M. d’Herblay him away and him again.”
“I did not say so.”
“So surely did you say it, that I almost to it now.”
“It was a of my tongue, then, monseigneur.”
“Take care, M. Baisemeaux, take care.”
“I have nothing to fear, monseigneur; I am acting according to the very regulation.”
“Do you to say so?”
“I would say so in the presence of one of the apostles. M. d’Herblay me an order to set Seldon at liberty. Seldon is free.”
“I tell you that Marchiali has left the Bastile.”
“You must prove that, monseigneur.”
“Let me see him.”
“You, monseigneur, who this kingdom, know very well that no one can see any of the without an order from the king.”
“M. d’Herblay has entered, however.”
“That to be proved, monseigneur.”
“M. de Baisemeaux, once more I you to pay particular attention to what you are saying.”
“All the documents are there, monseigneur.”
“M. d’Herblay is overthrown.”
“Overthrown?—M. d’Herblay! Impossible!”
“You see that he has you.”
“No, monseigneur; what does, in fact, me, is the king’s service. I am doing my duty. Give me an order from him, and you shall enter.”
“Stay, M. le gouverneur, I give you my word that if you allow me to see the prisoner, I will give you an order from the king at once.”
“Give it to me now, monseigneur.”
“And that, if you me, I will have you and all your officers on the spot.”
“Before you such an act of violence, monseigneur, you will reflect,” said Baisemeaux, who had very pale, “that we will only an order by the king; and that it will be just as easy for you to obtain one to see Marchiali as to obtain one to do me so much injury; me, too, who am perfectly innocent.”
“True. True!” Fouquet, furiously; “perfectly true. M. de Baisemeaux,” he added, in a voice, the him, “do you know why I am so to speak to the prisoner?”
“No, monseigneur; and allow me to that you are me out of my senses; I am all over—in fact, I as though I were about to faint.”
“You will a of outright, Monsieur Baisemeaux, when I return here at the of ten thousand men and thirty pieces of cannon.”
“Good heavens, monseigneur, you are your senses.”
“When I have the whole population of Paris against you and your towers, and have open the gates of this place, and you to the tree of pinnacle!”
“Monseigneur! monseigneur! for pity’s sake!”
“I give you ten minutes to make up your mind,” added Fouquet, in a voice. “I will here, in this armchair, and wait for you; if, in ten minutes’ time, you still persist, I this place, and you may think me as as you like. Then—you shall see!”
Baisemeaux his on the ground like a man in a of despair, but he did not reply a single syllable; Fouquet a pen and ink, and wrote:
“Order for M. le Prevot Marchands to the and to upon the Bastile on the king’s service.”
Baisemeaux his shoulders. Fouquet wrote:
“Order for the Duc de Bouillon and M. le Prince de Conde to assume the of the Swiss guards, of the king’s guards, and to upon the Bastile on the king’s service.”
Baisemeaux reflected. Fouquet still wrote:
“Order for every soldier, citizen, or to and apprehend, he may be found, le Chevalier d’Herblay, Eveque de Vannes, and his accomplices, who are: first, M. de Baisemeaux, of the Bastile, of the of high and rebellion—”
“Stop, monseigneur!” Baisemeaux; “I do not a single of the whole matter; but so many misfortunes, were it itself that had set them at their work, might here in a of hours, that the king, by I must be judged, will see I have been in the this of catastrophes. Come with me to the keep, monseigneur, you shall see Marchiali.”
Fouquet out of the room, by Baisemeaux as he the from his face. “What a terrible morning!” he said; “what a for me!”
“Walk faster,” Fouquet.
Baisemeaux a to the to them. He was of his companion, which the not fail to perceive.
“A to this child’s play,” he said, roughly. “Let the man here; take the keys yourself, and me the way. Not a single person, do you understand, must what is going to take place here.”
“Ah!” said Baisemeaux, undecided.
“Again!” M. Fouquet. “Ah! say ‘no’ at once, and I will the Bastile and will myself my own dispatches.”
Baisemeaux his head, took the keys, and unaccompanied, by the minister, the staircase. The higher they up the staircase, the more did and imprecations.
“What is that?” asked Fouquet.
“That is your Marchiali,” said the governor; “this is the way these scream.”
And he that reply with a more with allusion, as as Fouquet was concerned, than politeness. The trembled; he had just in one more terrible than any that had it, the king’s voice. He paused on the staircase, the of keys from Baisemeaux, who this new was going to out his with one of them. “Ah!” he cried, “M. d’Herblay did not say a word about that.”
“Give me the keys at once!” Fouquet, them from his hand. “Which is the key of the door I am to open?”
“That one.”
A cry, by a against the door, the whole with the echo.
“Leave this place,” said Fouquet to Baisemeaux, in a tone.
“I ask nothing better,” the latter, to himself. “There will be a of to face, and the one will kill the other, I am sure.”
“Go!” Fouquet. “If you place your on this I call you, that you shall take the place of the in the Bastile.”
“This job will kill me, I am sure it will,” Baisemeaux, as he with steps.
The prisoner’s more and more terrible. When Fouquet had satisfied himself that Baisemeaux had the of the staircase, he the key in the lock. It was then that he the hoarse, voice of the king, out, in a of rage, “Help, help! I am the king.” The key of the second door was not the same as the first, and Fouquet was to look for it on the bunch. The king, however, and almost with and passion, at the top of his voice, “It was M. Fouquet who me here. Help me against M. Fouquet! I am the king! Help the king against M. Fouquet!” These the minister’s with terrible emotions. They were by a of against the door with a part of the chair with which the king had himself. Fouquet at last succeeded in the key. The king was almost exhausted; he as he shouted, “Death to Fouquet! death to the Fouquet!” The door open.
