The Man in the Iron Mask
How the King, Louis XIV., Played His Little Part.
As Fouquet was from his carriage, to enter the of Nantes, a man of up to him with marks of the respect, and gave him a letter. D’Artagnan to prevent this man from speaking to Fouquet, and pushed him away, but the message had been to the surintendant. Fouquet opened the and read it, and a terror, which D’Artagnan did not fail to penetrate, was painted on the of the minister. Fouquet put the paper into the portfolio which he had under his arm, and passed on the king’s apartments. D’Artagnan, through the small at every landing of the stairs, saw, as he up Fouquet, the man who had delivered the note, looking him on the place and making to persons, who in the streets, after having themselves the signals. Fouquet was to wait for a moment on the of which we have spoken,—a which on the little corridor, at the end of which the cabinet of the king was located. Here D’Artagnan passed on the surintendant, whom, till that time, he had accompanied, and entered the cabinet.
“Well?” asked Louis XIV., who, on him, on to the table with papers a large green cloth.
“The order is executed, sire.”
“And Fouquet?”
“Monsieur le me,” said D’Artagnan.
“In ten minutes let him be introduced,” said the king, D’Artagnan again with a gesture. The retired; but had the at the of which Fouquet was waiting for him, when he was by the king’s bell.
“Did he not appear astonished?” asked the king.
“Who, sire?”
“Fouquet,” the king, without saying monsieur, a which the captain of the in his suspicions.
“No, sire,” he.
“That’s well!” And a second time Louis D’Artagnan.
Fouquet had not the where he had been left by his guide. He his note, thus:
“Something is being against you. Perhaps they will not to it out at the castle; it will be on your return home. The house is already by musketeers. Do not enter. A white is in waiting for you the esplanade!”
Fouquet the and of Gourville. Not being that, if any to himself, this paper should a friend, the was it into a thousand morsels, spread about by the wind from the of the terrace. D’Artagnan him the of the last in space.
“Monsieur,” said he, “the king you.”
Fouquet walked with a step along the little corridor, where MM. de Brienne and Rose were at work, the Duc de Saint-Aignan, seated on a chair, in the corridor, appeared to be waiting for orders, with impatience, his his legs. It appeared to Fouquet that MM. Brienne, Rose, and de Saint-Aignan, in so and obsequious, should take the least notice, as he, the surintendant, passed. But how he to it otherwise among courtiers, he the king no longer called anything but Fouquet? He his head, to look every one and in the face, and entered the king’s apartment, where a little bell, which we already know, had already him to his majesty.
The king, without rising, to him, and with interest: “Well! how are you, Monsieur Fouquet?” said he.
“I am in a high fever,” the surintendant; “but I am at the king’s service.”
“That is well; the States to-morrow; have you a speech ready?”
Fouquet looked at the king with astonishment. “I have not, sire,” he; “but I will one. I am too well with to any embarrassment. I have only one question to ask; will your permit me?”
“Certainly. Ask it.”
“Why did not your do his minister the of him notice of this in Paris?”
“You were ill; I was not to you.”
“Never did a labor—never did an me, sire; and since the moment is come for me to an of my king—”
“Oh, Monsieur Fouquet! an explanation? An explanation, pray, of what?”
“Of your majesty’s with respect to myself.”
The king blushed. “I have been calumniated,” Fouquet, warmly, “and I called upon to the of the king to make inquiries.”
“You say all this to me very uselessly, Monsieur Fouquet; I know what I know.”
“Your can only know the that have been told to you; and I, on my part, have said nothing to you, others have spoken many, many times—”
“What do you wish to say?” said the king, to put an end to this conversation.
“I will go to the facts, sire; and I a man of having me in your majesty’s opinion.”
“Nobody has you, Monsieur Fouquet.”
“That reply proves to me, sire, that I am right.”
“Monsieur Fouquet, I do not like people to be accused.”
“Not when one is accused?”
“We have already spoken too much about this affair.”
“Your will not allow me to myself?”
“I repeat that I do not you.”
Fouquet, with a half-bow, a step backward. “It is certain,” he, “that he has up his mind. He alone who cannot go can such obstinacy. Not to see the now would be to be indeed; not to it would be stupid.” He aloud, “Did your send for me on business?”
“No, Monsieur Fouquet, but for some I wish to give you.”
“I it, sire.”
“Rest yourself, Monsieur Fouquet, do not away your strength; the session of the States will be short, and when my shall have closed it, I do not wish to be talked of in France for a fortnight.”
“Has the king nothing to say to me on the of this of the States?”
“No, Monsieur Fouquet.”
“Not to me, the of the finances?”
“Rest yourself, I you; that is all I have to say to you.”
Fouquet his and his head. He was with some thought. This the king. “Are you angry at having to yourself, M. Fouquet?” said he.
“Yes, sire, I am not to take rest.”
“But you are ill; you must take of yourself.”
“Your spoke just now of a speech to be to-morrow.”
His no reply; this embarrassed him. Fouquet the weight of this hesitation. He he read in the of the prince, which would but precipitate. “If I appear frightened, I am lost,” he.
The king, on his part, was only at the of Fouquet. “Has he a of anything?” he.
“If his word is severe,” again Fouquet; “if he angry, or to be angry for the of a pretext, how shall I myself? Let us the a little. Gourville was right.”
“Sire,” said he, suddenly, “since the of the king over my health to the point of with my labor, may I not be allowed to be from the of to-morrow? I pass the day in bed, and will the king to me his physician, that we may to a against this fever.”
“So be it, Monsieur Fouquet, it shall be as you desire; you shall have a to-morrow, you shall have the physician, and shall be to health.”
“Thanks!” said Fouquet, bowing. Then, opening his game: “Shall I not have the of your to my of Belle-Isle?”
And he looked Louis full in the face, to judge of the of such a proposal. The king again.
“Do you know,” he, to smile, “that you have just said, ‘My of Belle-Isle’?”
“Yes, sire.”
“Well! do you not remember,” the king in the same tone, “that you gave me Belle-Isle?”
“That is true again, sire. Only, as you have not taken it, you will come with me and take of it.”
“I to do so.”
“That was, besides, your majesty’s as well as mine; and I cannot to your how happy and proud I have been to see all the king’s from Paris to help take possession.”
The king out that he did not the for that alone.
“Oh, I am of that,” said Fouquet, warmly; “your very well that you have nothing to do but to come alone with a in your hand, to to the ground all the of Belle-Isle.”
“Peste!” the king; “I do not wish those fortifications, which cost so much to build, to at all. No, let them against the Dutch and English. You would not what I want to see at Belle-Isle, Monsieur Fouquet; it is the and of the lands on the sea-shore, who so well, and are so with their petticoats! I have great of your tenants, le surintendant; well, let me have a of them.”
“Whenever your pleases.”
“Have you any means of transport? It shall be to-morrow, if you like.”
The this stroke, which was not adroit, and replied, “No, sire; I was of your majesty’s wish; above all, I was of your to see Belle-Isle, and I am prepared with nothing.”
“You have a of your own, nevertheless?”
“I have five; but they are all in port, or at Paimboeuf; and to join them, or them hither, would at least twenty-four hours. Have I any occasion to send a courier? Must I do so?”
“Wait a little, put an end to the fever,—wait till to-morrow.”
“That is true. Who but that by to-morrow we may not have a hundred other ideas?” Fouquet, now perfectly and very pale.
The king started, and his hand out his little bell, but Fouquet his ringing.
“Sire,” said he, “I have an ague—I am with cold. If I a moment longer, I shall most likely faint. I your majesty’s permission to go and myself the bedclothes.”
“Indeed, you are in a shiver; it is painful to behold! Come, Monsieur Fouquet, begone! I will send to after you.”
“Your me with kindness. In an hour I shall be better.”
“I will call some one to you,” said the king.
“As you please, sire; I would take the arm of any one.”
“Monsieur d’Artagnan!” the king, his little bell.
“Oh, sire,” Fouquet, laughing in such a manner as the cold, “would you give me the captain of your to take me to my lodgings? An that, sire! A footman, I beg.”
“And why, M. Fouquet? M. d’Artagnan me often, and well!”
“Yes, but when he you, sire, it is to you; me—”
“Go on!”
“If I am to return home supported by the leader of the musketeers, it would be said you had had me arrested.”
“Arrested!” the king, who than Fouquet himself,—“arrested! oh!”
“And why should they not say so?” Fouquet, still laughing; “and I would a there would be people to laugh at it.” This the monarch. Fouquet was enough, or enough, to make Louis XIV. the of the he meditated. M. d’Artagnan, when he appeared, an order to a to the surintendant.
“Quite unnecessary,” said the latter; “sword for sword; I Gourville, who is waiting for me below. But that will not prevent me the of M. d’Artagnan. I am he will see Belle-Isle, he is so good a judge of fortifications.”
D’Artagnan bowed, without at all what was going on. Fouquet again and left the apartment, all the slowness of a man who walks with difficulty. When once out of the castle, “I am saved!” said he. “Oh! yes, king, you shall see Belle-Isle, but it shall be when I am no longer there.”
He disappeared, D’Artagnan with the king.
“Captain,” said the king, “you will M. Fouquet at the of a hundred paces.”
“Yes, sire.”
“He is going to his again. You will go with him.”
“Yes, sire.”
“You will him in my name, and will him up in a carriage.”
“In a carriage. Well, sire?”
“In such a fashion that he may not, on the road, either with any one or notes to people he may meet.”
“That will be difficult, sire.”
“Not at all.”
“Pardon me, sire, I cannot M. Fouquet, and if he for to breathe, I cannot prevent him by the and the blinds. He will out at the doors all the and notes possible.”
“The case is provided for, Monsieur d’Artagnan; a with a will the you point out.”
“A with an iron trellis!” D’Artagnan; “but a with an iron is not in an hour, and your me to go to M. Fouquet’s lodgings.”
“The in question is already made.”
“Ah! that is a different thing,” said the captain; “if the is made, very well, then, we have only to set it in motion.”
“It is ready—and the harnessed.”
“Ah!”
“And the coachman, with the outriders, is waiting in the of the castle.”
D’Artagnan bowed. “There only for me to ask your I shall M. Fouquet.”
“To the of Angers, at first.”
“Very well, sire.”
“Afterwards we will see.”
“Yes, sire.”
“Monsieur d’Artagnan, one last word: you have that, for making this of M. Fouquet, I have not my guards, on which account M. de Gesvres will be furious.”
“Your not your guards,” said the captain, a little humiliated, “because you M. de Gesvres, that is all.”
“That is to say, monsieur, that I have more in you.”
“I know that very well, sire! and it is of no use to make so much of it.”
“It is only for the of at this, monsieur, that if, from this moment, it should that by any M. Fouquet should escape—such have been, monsieur—”
“Oh! very often, sire; but for others, not for me.”
“And why not with you?”
“Because I, sire, have, for an instant, to save M. Fouquet.”
The king started. “Because,” the captain, “I had then a right to do so, having your majesty’s plan, without you having spoken to me of it, and that I took an in M. Fouquet. Now, was I not at to my in this man?”
“In truth, monsieur, you do not me with to your services.”
“If I had saved him then, I should have been perfectly innocent; I will say more, I should have done well, for M. Fouquet is not a man. But he was not willing; his prevailed; he let the hour of by. So much the worse! Now I have orders, I will those orders, and M. Fouquet you may as a man arrested. He is at the of Angers, this very M. Fouquet.”
“Oh! you have not got him yet, captain.”
“That me; every one to his trade, sire; only, once more, reflect! Do you give me orders to M. Fouquet, sire?”
“Yes, a thousand times, yes!”
“In writing, sire, then.”
“Here is the order.”
D’Artagnan read it, to the king, and left the room. From the of the he Gourville, who by with a air the of M. Fouquet.
