The Man in the Iron Mask
The Two Lighters.
D’Artagnan had set off; Fouquet was gone, and with a which the of his friends. The moments of this journey, or say, this flight, were by a of every and to be the fugitive. It was not natural, in fact, if Louis XIV. was to this prey, that he should allow it to escape; the lion was already to the chase, and he had to be trusted. But all were dispersed; the surintendant, by hard traveling, such a himself and his persecutors, that no one of them be to overtake him. As to his position, his friends had it excellent for him. Was he not traveling to join the king at Nantes, and what did the prove but his to obey? He arrived, fatigued, but reassured, at Orleans, where he found, thanks to the of a who had him, a of eight oars. These lighters, in the shape of gondolas, wide and heavy, a small chamber, by the deck, and a in the poop, by a tent, then as passage-boats from Orleans to Nantes, by the Loire, and this passage, a long one in our days, appeared then more easy and than the high-road, with its post-hacks and its ill-hung carriages. Fouquet on this lighter, which set out immediately. The rowers, they had the of the of the finances, with all their strength, and that magic word, the finances, promised them a gratification, of which they to prove themselves worthy. The to the of the Loire. Magnificent weather, a that all the landscape, the river in all its serenity. The and the Fouquet along as a bird, and he Beaugency without the accident having the voyage. Fouquet to be the to arrive at Nantes; there he would see the and support among the members of the States; he would make himself a necessity, a thing very easy for a man of his merit, and would the catastrophe, if he did not succeed in it entirely. “Besides,” said Gourville to him, “at Nantes, you will make out, or we will make out, the of your enemies; we will have always to you to Poitou, a in which to the sea, and when once upon the open sea, Belle-Isle is your port. You see, besides, that no one is you, no one is following.” He had when they at a distance, an by the river, the of a down. The of Fouquet’s a of on this galley.
“What is the matter?” asked Fouquet.
“The is, monseigneur,” the of the bark, “that it is a thing—that comes along like a hurricane.”
Gourville started, and to the deck, in order to obtain a view.
Fouquet did not go up with him, but said to Gourville, with mistrust: “See what it is, dear friend.”
The had just passed the elbow. It came on so fast, that it might be the white wake with the of the day.
“How they go,” the skipper, “how they go! They must be well paid! I did not think,” he added, “that of than ours, but prove the contrary.”
“Well they may,” said one of the rowers, “they are twelve, and we but eight.”
“Twelve rowers!” Gourville, “twelve! impossible.”
The number of eight for a had been exceeded, for the king. This had been paid to le surintendant, more for the of than of respect.
“What it mean?” said Gourville, to the tent, which was already apparent, travelers which the most not yet have succeeded in discovering.
“They must be in a hurry, for it is not the king,” said the patron.
Fouquet shuddered.
“By what do you know that it is not the king?” said Gourville.
“In the place, there is no white flag with fleurs-de-lis, which the always carries.”
“And then,” said Fouquet, “because it is it should be the king, Gourville, as the king was still in Paris yesterday.”
Gourville to the by a look which said: “You were there yesterday.”
“And by what do you make out they are in such haste?” added he, for the of time.
“By this, monsieur,” said the patron; “these people must have set out a long while after us, and they have already nearly overtaken us.”
“Bah!” said Gourville, “who told you that they do not come from Beaugency or from Moit even?”
“We have no of that shape, at Orleans. It comes from Orleans, monsieur, and makes great haste.”
Fouquet and Gourville a glance. The captain their uneasiness, and, to him, Gourville said:
“Some friend, who has a he would catch us; let us win the wager, and not allow him to come up with us.”
The opened his mouth to say that it was impossible, but Fouquet said with much hauteur,—“If it is any one who to overtake us, let him come.”
“We can try, monseigneur,” said the man, timidly. “Come, you fellows, put out your strength; row, row!”
“No,” said Fouquet, “on the contrary; stop short.”
“Monseigneur! what folly!” Gourville, his ear.
“Pull up!” Fouquet. The eight stopped, and the water, a motion. It stopped. The twelve in the other did not, at first, this maneuver, for they to on their so that it musket-shot. Fouquet was short-sighted, Gourville was by the sun, now full in his eyes; the alone, with that and which are by a with the elements, the travelers in the lighter.
“I can see them!” he; “there are two.”
“I can see nothing,” said Gourville.
“You will not be long you them; in twenty of their they will be ten of us.”
But what the was not realized; the the movement by Fouquet, and of to join its friends, it stopped in the middle of the river.
“I cannot this,” said the captain.
“Nor I,” Gourville.
“You who can see so the people in that lighter,” Fouquet, “try to them to us, we are too off.”
“I I saw two,” the boatman. “I can only see one now, under the tent.”
“What of man is he?”
“He is a dark man, broad-shouldered, bull-necked.”
A little cloud at that moment passed across the azure, the sun. Gourville, who was still looking, with one hand over his eyes, able to see what he sought, and all at once, jumping from the into the where Fouquet him: “Colbert!” said he, in a voice by emotion.
“Colbert!” Fouquet. “Too strange! but no, it is impossible!”
“I tell you I him, and he, at the same time, so me, that he is just gone into the on the poop. Perhaps the king has sent him on our track.”
“In that case he would join us, of by. What is he doing there?”
“He is us, without a doubt.”
“I do not like uncertainty,” said Fouquet; “let us go up to him.”
“Oh! monseigneur, do not do that, the is full of men.”
“He to me, then, Gourville? Why he not come on?”
“Monseigneur, it is not with your to go to meet your ruin.”
“But to allow them to watch me like a malefactor!”
“Nothing yet proves that they are you, monseigneur; be patient!”
“What is to be done, then?”
“Do not stop; you were only going so fast to appear to the king’s order with zeal. Redouble the speed. He who will see!”
“That is better. Come!” Fouquet; “since they stock-still yonder, let us go on.”
The captain gave the signal, and Fouquet’s their with all the success that be looked for from men who had rested. Scarcely had the a hundred fathoms, than the other, that with the twelve rowers, its course. This position all day, without any or of the two vessels. Towards Fouquet to try the of his persecutor. He ordered his to the shore, as if to a landing. Colbert’s this maneuver, and the in a direction. By the chance, at the spot where Fouquet to wish to land, a stableman, from the of Langeais, was the banks leading three in halters. Without the people of the twelve-oared that Fouquet was his to these for flight, for four or five men, with muskets, jumped from the on to the shore, and along the banks, as if to ground on the horseman. Fouquet, satisfied of having the enemy to a demonstration, his evident, and put his in motion again. Colbert’s people returned to theirs, and the of the two was with fresh perseverance. Upon this, Fouquet himself closely, and in a voice—“Well, Gourville,” said he, whisperingly, “what did I say at our last repast, at my house? Am I going, or not, to my ruin?”
“Oh! monseigneur!”
“These two boats, which each other with so much emulation, as if we were disputing, M. Colbert and I, a prize for on the Loire, do they not our fortunes; and do you not believe, Gourville, that one of the two will be at Nantes?”
“At least,” Gourville, “there is still uncertainty; you are about to appear at the States; you are about to what of man you are; your and for are the and that will to you, if not to with. The Bretons do not know you; and when they with you your is won! Oh! let M. Colbert look to it well, for his is as much as yours to being upset. Both go quickly, his than yours, it is true; we shall see which will be first.”
Fouquet, taking Gourville’s hand—“My friend,” said he, “everything considered, the proverb, ‘First come, served!’ Well! M. Colbert takes not to pass me. He is a man is M. Colbert.”
He was right; the two their as as Nantes, each other. When the landed, Gourville he should be able to at once, and have the prepared. But, at the landing, the second joined the first, and Colbert, Fouquet, him on the with marks of the respect—marks so significant, so public, that their result was the of the whole population upon La Fosse. Fouquet was self-possessed; he that in his last moments of he had himself. He to from such a that his should some of his enemies. Colbert was there—so much the for Colbert. The surintendant, therefore, up to him, replied, with that semi-closure of the to him—“What! is that you, M. Colbert?”
“To offer you my respects, monseigneur,” said the latter.
“Were you in that lighter?”—pointing to the one with twelve rowers.
“Yes, monseigneur.”
“Of twelve rowers?” said Fouquet; “what luxury, M. Colbert. For a moment I it was the queen-mother.”
“Monseigneur!”—and Colbert blushed.
“This is a that will cost those who have to pay for it dear, Monsieur l’Intendant!” said Fouquet. “But you have, happily, arrived!—You see, however,” added he, a moment after, “that I, who had but eight rowers, you.” And he his him, him the of the second had the notice of the first. At least he did not give him the of that he had been frightened. Colbert, so attacked, did not give way.
“I have not been quick, monseigneur,” he replied, “because I your example you stopped.”
“And why did you do that, Monsieur Colbert?” Fouquet, by the audacity; “as you had a to mine, why did you not either join me or pass me?”
“Out of respect,” said the intendant, to the ground.
Fouquet got into a which the city had sent to him, we know not why or how, and he repaired to la Maison de Nantes, by a of people, who for days had been with of a of the States. Scarcely was he when Gourville out to order on the to Poitiers and Vannes, and a at Paimboef. He performed these operations with so much mystery, activity, and generosity, that was Fouquet, then under an attack of fever, more nearly saved, for the of that of projects,—chance. A report was spread the night, that the king was in great on post horses, and would arrive in ten or twelve hours at the latest. The people, while waiting for the king, were to see the musketeers, newly arrived, with Monsieur d’Artagnan, their captain, and in the castle, of which they all the posts, in quality of of honor. M. d’Artagnan, who was very polite, presented himself, about ten o’clock, at the of the to pay his compliments; and although the minister from fever, although he was in such pain as to be in sweat, he would M. d’Artagnan, who was with that honor, as will be by the they had together.
