The Man in the Iron Mask
Friendly Advice.
Fouquet had gone to bed, like a man who to life, and to economize, as much as possible, that of existence, of which the and of this world so wear out the tenuity. D’Artagnan appeared at the door of this chamber, and was by the with a very “Good day.”
“Bon jour! monseigneur,” the musketeer; “how did you through the journey?”
“Tolerably well, thank you.”
“And the fever?”
“But poorly. I drink, as you perceive. I am arrived, and I have already a of upon Nantes.”
“You should sleep first, monseigneur.”
“Eh! corbleu! my dear Monsieur d’Artagnan, I should be very to sleep.”
“Who you?”
“Why, you in the place.”
“I? Oh, monseigneur!”
“No you do. Is it at Nantes as at Paris? Do you not come in the king’s name?”
“For Heaven’s sake, monseigneur,” the captain, “leave the king alone! The day on which I shall come on the part of the king, for the purpose you mean, take my word for it, I will not you long in doubt. You will see me place my hand on my sword, according to the ordonnance, and you will my say at once, in voice, ‘Monseigneur, in the name of the king, I you!’”
“You promise me that frankness?” said the superintendent.
“Upon my honor! But we have not come to that, me.”
“What makes you think that, M. d’Artagnan? For my part, I think the contrary.”
“I have speak of nothing of the kind,” D’Artagnan.
“Eh! eh!” said Fouquet.
“Indeed, no. You are an man, in of your fever. The king should not, cannot help you, at the of his heart.”
Fouquet’s doubt. “But M. Colbert?” said he; “does M. Colbert love me as much as you say?”
“I am not speaking of M. Colbert,” D’Artagnan. “He is an man. He not love you; so much is very possible; but, mordioux! the can himself against the with very little trouble.”
“Do you know that you are speaking to me as a friend?” Fouquet; “and that, upon my life! I have met with a man of your intelligence, and heart?”
“You are pleased to say so,” D’Artagnan. “Why did you wait till to-day to pay me such a compliment?”
“Blind that we are!” Fouquet.
“Your voice is hoarse,” said D’Artagnan; “drink, monseigneur, drink!” And he offered him a cup of tisane, with the most cordiality; Fouquet took it, and thanked him by a smile. “Such only to me,” said the musketeer. “I have passed ten years under your very beard, while you were about of gold. You were an pension of four millions; you me; and you out there is such a person in the world, just at the moment you—”
“Just at the moment I am about to fall,” Fouquet. “That is true, my dear Monsieur d’Artagnan.”
“I did not say so.”
“But you so; and that is the same thing. Well! if I fall, take my word as truth, I shall not pass a single day without saying to myself, as I my brow, ‘Fool! fool!—stupid mortal! You had a Monsieur d’Artagnan under your and hand, and you did not him, you did not him!’”
“You me,” said the captain. “I you greatly.”
“There another man, then, who not think as M. Colbert thinks,” said the surintendant.
“How this M. Colbert up in your imagination! He is than fever!”
“Oh! I have good cause,” said Fouquet. “Judge for yourself.” And he related the of the of the lighters, and the of Colbert. “Is not this a clear of my ruin?”
D’Artagnan very serious. “That is true,” he said. “Yes; it has an odor, as M. de Treville used to say.” And he on M. Fouquet his and look.
“Am I not in that, captain? Is not the king me to Nantes to me away from Paris, where I have so many creatures, and to himself of Belle-Isle?”
“Where M. d’Herblay is,” added D’Artagnan. Fouquet his head. “As for me, monseigneur,” D’Artagnan, “I can you the king has said nothing to me against you.”
“Indeed!”
“The king me to set out for Nantes, it is true; and to say nothing about it to M. de Gesvres.”
“My friend.”
“To M. de Gesvres, yes, monseigneur,” the musketeer, s did not to speak a language different from the language of his lips. “The king, moreover, me to take a of musketeers, which is superfluous, as the country is quiet.”
“A brigade!” said Fouquet, himself upon his elbow.
“Ninety-six horsemen, yes, monseigneur. The same number as were in MM. de Chalais, de Cinq-Mars, and Montmorency.”
Fouquet up his ears at these words, without value. “And what else?” said he.
“Oh! nothing but orders; such as the castle, every lodging, none of M. de Gesvres’s to a single post.”
“And as to myself,” Fouquet, “what orders had you?”
“As to you, monseigneur?—not the smallest word.”
“Monsieur d’Artagnan, my safety, my honor, my life are at stake. You would not me?”
“I?—to what end? Are you threatened? Only there is an order with respect to and boats—”
“An order?”
“Yes; but it cannot you—a measure of police.”
“What is it, captain?—what is it?”
“To all or to Nantes, without a pass, by the king.”
“Great God! but—”
D’Artagnan to laugh. “All that is not to be put into the of the king at Nantes. So that you see plainly, monseigneur, the order in you.”
Fouquet thoughtful, and D’Artagnan not to his preoccupation. “It is evident, by my thus to you the orders which have been to me, that I am you, and that I am trying to prove to you that none of them are against you.”
“Without doubt!—without doubt!” said Fouquet, still absent.
“Let us recapitulate,” said the captain, his with earnestness. “A special about the castle, in which your is to be, is it not?”
“Do you know the castle?”
“Ah! monseigneur, a regular prison! The of M. de Gesvres, who has the of being one of your friends. The of the gates of the city, and of the river without a pass; but, only when the king shall have arrived. Please to observe, Monsieur Fouquet, that if, of speaking to man like you, who are one of the in the kingdom, I were speaking to a troubled, conscience—I should myself forever. What a opportunity for any one who to be free! No police, no guards, no orders; the water free, the free, Monsieur d’Artagnan to his horses, if required. All this ought to you, Monsieur Fouquet, for the king would not have left me thus independent, if he had any designs. In truth, Monsieur Fouquet, ask me you like, I am at your service; and, in return, if you will to do it, do me a service, that of my to Aramis and Porthos, in case you for Belle-Isle, as you have a right to do without your dress, immediately, in your de chambre—just as you are.” Saying these words, and with a bow, the musketeer, looks had none of their kindness, left the apartment. He had not the steps of the vestibule, when Fouquet, himself, to the bell-rope, and shouted, “My horses!—my lighter!” But nobody answered. The himself with that came to hand.
“Gourville!—Gourville!” he, while his watch into his pocket. And the again, Fouquet repeated, “Gourville!—Gourville!”
Gourville at length appeared, and pale.
“Let us be gone! Let us be gone!” Fouquet, as soon as he saw him.
“It is too late!” said the surintendant’s friend.
“Too late!—why?”
“Listen!” And they the of and in of the castle.
“What that mean, Gourville?”
“It means the king is come, monseigneur.”
“The king!”
“The king, who has stages, who has killed horses, and who is eight hours in of all our calculations.”
“We are lost!” Fouquet. “Brave D’Artagnan, all is over, has spoken to me too late!”
The king, in fact, was entering the city, which soon with the from the ramparts, and from a which from the parts of the river. Fouquet’s darkened; he called his de and in costume. From his window, the curtains, he see the of the people, and the movement of a large troop, which had the prince. The king was to the with great pomp, and Fouquet saw him under the portcullis, and say something in the ear of D’Artagnan, who his stirrup. D’Artagnan, when the king had passed under the arch, his steps the house Fouquet was in; but so slowly, and stopping so to speak to his musketeers, up like a hedge, that it might be said he was the seconds, or the steps, his object. Fouquet opened the window to speak to him in the court.
“Ah!” D’Artagnan, on him, “are you still there, monseigneur?”
And that word still the proof to Fouquet of how much and how many useful were in the visit the had paid him. The deeply. “Good heavens! yes, monsieur,” he. “The of the king has me in the I had formed.”
“Oh, then you know that the king has arrived?”
“Yes, monsieur, I have him; and this time you come from him—”
“To after you, monseigneur; and, if your health is not too bad, to you to have the to repair to the castle.”
“Directly, Monsieur d’Artagnan, directly!”
“Ah, mordioux!” said the captain, “now the king is come, there is no more walking for anybody—no more free will; the all now, you as much as me, me as much as you.”
Fouquet a last sigh, with into his carriage, so great was his weakness, and to the castle, by D’Artagnan, was not less this time than it had just been and cheerful.
