In vivid contrast to the sad and terrible destiny of the king imprisoned1 in the Bastile, and tearing, in sheer despair, the bolts and bars of his dungeon2, the rhetoric3 of the chroniclers of old would not fail to present, as a complete antithesis4, the picture of Philippe lying asleep beneath the royal canopy5. We do not pretend to say that such rhetoric is always bad, and always scatters6, in places where they have no right to grow, the flowers with which it embellishes7 and enlivens history. But we shall, on the present occasion, carefully avoid polishing the antithesis in question, but shall proceed to draw another picture as minutely as possible, to serve as foil and counterfoil8 to the one in the preceding chapter. The young prince alighted from Aramis’s room, in the same way the king had descended9 from the apartment dedicated10 to Morpheus. The dome11 gradually and slowly sank down under Aramis’s pressure, and Philippe stood beside the royal bed, which had ascended12 again after having deposited its prisoner in the secret depths of the subterranean13 passage. Alone, in the presence of all the luxury which surrounded him; alone, in the presence of his power; alone, with the part he was about to be forced to act, Philippe for the first time felt his heart, and mind, and soul expand beneath the influence of a thousand mutable emotions, which are the vital throbs14 of a king’s heart. He could not help changing color when he looked upon the empty bed, still tumbled by his brother’s body. This mute accomplice15 had returned, after having completed the work it had been destined16 to perform; it returned with the traces of the crime; it spoke17 to the guilty author of that crime, with the frank and unreserved language which an accomplice never fears to use in the company of his companion in guilt18; for it spoke the truth. Philippe bent19 over the bed, and perceived a pocket-handkerchief lying on it, which was still damp from the cold sweat which had poured from Louis XIV.‘s face. This sweat-bestained handkerchief terrified Philippe, as the gore20 of Abel frightened Cain.
“I am face to face with my destiny,” said Philippe, his eyes on fire, and his face a livid white. “Is it likely to be more terrifying than my captivity21 has been sad and gloomy? Though I am compelled to follow out, at every moment, the sovereign power and authority I have usurped22, shall I cease to listen to the scruples23 of my heart? Yes! the king has lain on this bed; it is indeed his head that has left its impression on this pillow; his bitter tears that have stained this handkerchief: and yet, I hesitate to throw myself on the bed, or to press in my hand the handkerchief which is embroidered24 with my brother’s arms. Away with such weakness; let me imitate M. d’Herblay, who asserts that a man’s action should be always one degree above his thoughts; let me imitate M. d’Herblay, whose thoughts are of and for himself alone, who regards himself as a man of honor, so long as he injures or betrays his enemies only. I, I alone, should have occupied this bed, if Louis XIV. had not, owing to my mother’s criminal abandonment, stood in my way; and this handkerchief, embroidered with the arms of France, would in right and justice belong to me alone, if, as M. d’Herblay observes, I had been left my royal cradle. Philippe, son of France, take your place on that bed; Philippe, sole king of France, resume the blazonry that is yours! Philippe, sole heir presumptive to Louis XIII., your father, show yourself without pity or mercy for the usurper25 who, at this moment, has not even to suffer the agony of the remorse26 of all that you have had to submit to.”
With these words, Philippe, notwithstanding an instinctive27 repugnance28 of feeling, and in spite of the shudder29 of terror which mastered his will, threw himself on the royal bed, and forced his muscles to press the still warm place where Louis XIV. had lain, while he buried his burning face in the handkerchief still moistened by his brother’s tears. With his head thrown back and buried in the soft down of his pillow, Philippe perceived above him the crown of France, suspended, as we have stated, by angels with outspread golden wings.
A man may be ambitious of lying in a lion’s den30, but can hardly hope to sleep there quietly. Philippe listened attentively31 to every sound; his heart panted and throbbed32 at the very suspicion of approaching terror and misfortune; but confident in his own strength, which was confirmed by the force of an overpoweringly resolute33 determination, he waited until some decisive circumstance should permit him to judge for himself. He hoped that imminent34 danger might be revealed to him, like those phosphoric lights of the tempest which show the sailors the altitude of the waves against which they have to struggle. But nothing approached. Silence, that mortal enemy of restless hearts, and of ambitious minds, shrouded35 in the thickness of its gloom during the remainder of the night the future king of France, who lay there sheltered beneath his stolen crown. Towards the morning a shadow, rather than a body, glided36 into the royal chamber37; Philippe expected his approach and neither expressed nor exhibited any surprise.
“Well, M. d’Herblay?”
“Well, sire, all is accomplished38.”
“How?”
“Exactly as we expected.”
“Did he resist?”
“Terribly! tears and entreaties39.”
“And then?”
“A perfect stupor40.”
“But at last?”
“Oh! at last, a complete victory, and absolute silence.”
“Did the governor of the Bastile suspect anything?”
“Nothing.”
“The resemblance, however —”
“Was the cause of the success.”
“But the prisoner cannot fail to explain himself. Think well of that. I have myself been able to do as much as that, on former occasion.”
“I have already provided for every chance. In a few days, sooner if necessary, we will take the captive out of his prison, and will send him out of the country, to a place of exile so remote —”
“People can return from their exile, Monsieur d’Herblay.”
“To a place of exile so distant, I was going to say, that human strength and the duration of human life would not be enough for his return.”
Once more a cold look of intelligence passed between Aramis and the young king.
“And M. du Vallon?” asked Philippe in order to change the conversation.
“He will be presented to you today, and confidentially41 will congratulate you on the danger which that conspirator42 has made you run.”
“What is to be done with him?”
“With M. du Vallon?”
“Yes; confer a dukedom on him, I suppose.”
“A dukedom,” replied Aramis, smiling in a significant manner.
“Why do you laugh, Monsieur d’Herblay?”
“I laugh at the extreme caution of your idea.”
“Cautious, why so?”
“Your majesty43 is doubtless afraid that poor Porthos may possible become a troublesome witness, and you wish to get rid of him.”
“What! in making him a duke?”
“Certainly; you would assuredly kill him, for he would die from joy, and the secret would die with him.”
“Good heavens!”
“Yes,” said Aramis, phlegmatically44; “I should lose a very good friend.”
At this moment, and in the middle of this idle conversation, under the light tone of which the two conspirators45 concealed46 their joy and pride at their mutual47 success, Aramis heard something which made him prick48 up his ears.
“What is that?” said Philippe.
“The dawn, sire.”
“Well?”
“Well, before you retired49 to bed last night, you probably decided50 to do something this morning at break of day.”
“Yes, I told my captain of the musketeers,” replied the young man hurriedly, “that I should expect him.”
“If you told him that, he will certainly be here, for he is a most punctual man.”
“I hear a step in the vestibule.”
“It must be he.”
“Come, let us begin the attack,” said the young king resolutely51.
“Be cautious for Heaven’s sake. To begin the attack, and with D’Artagnan, would be madness. D’Artagnan knows nothing, he has seen nothing; he is a hundred miles from suspecting our mystery in the slightest degree, but if he comes into this room the first this morning, he will be sure to detect something of what has taken place, and which he would imagine it his business to occupy himself about. Before we allow D’Artagnan to penetrate52 into this room, we must air the room thoroughly53, or introduce so many people into it, that the keenest scent54 in the whole kingdom may be deceived by the traces of twenty different persons.”
“But how can I send him away, since I have given him a rendezvous55?” observed the prince, impatient to measure swords with so redoubtable56 an antagonist57.
“I will take care of that,” replied the bishop58, “and in order to begin, I am going to strike a blow which will completely stupefy our man.”
“He, too, is striking a blow, for I hear him at the door,” added the prince, hurriedly.
And, in fact, a knock at the door was heard at that moment. Aramis was not mistaken; for it was indeed D’Artagnan who adopted that mode of announcing himself.
We have seen how he passed the night in philosophizing with M. Fouquet, but the musketeer was very weary even of feigning59 to fall asleep, and as soon as earliest dawn illumined with its gloomy gleams of light the sumptuous60 cornices of the superintendent’s room, D’Artagnan rose from his armchair, arranged his sword, brushed his coat and hat with his sleeve, like a private soldier getting ready for inspection61.
“Are you going out?” said Fouquet.
“Yes, monseigneur. And you?”
“I shall remain.”
“You pledge your word?”
“Certainly.”
“Very good. Besides, my only reason for going out is to try and get that reply — you know what I mean?”
“That sentence, you mean —”
“Stay, I have something of the old Roman in me. This morning, when I got up, I remarked that my sword had got caught in one of the aiguillettes, and that my shoulder-belt had slipped quite off. That is an infallible sign.”
“Of prosperity?”
“Yes, be sure of it; for every time that that confounded belt of mine stuck fast to my back, it always signified a punishment from M. de Treville, or a refusal of money by M. de Mazarin. Every time my sword hung fast to my shoulder-belt, it always predicted some disagreeable commission or another for me to execute, and I have had showers of them all my life through. Every time, too, my sword danced about in its sheath, a duel62, fortunate in its result, was sure to follow: whenever it dangled63 about the calves64 of my legs, it signified a slight wound; every time it fell completely out of the scabbard, I was booked, and made up my mind that I should have to remain on the field of battle, with two or three months under surgical65 bandages into the bargain.”
“I did not know your sword kept you so well informed,” said Fouquet, with a faint smile, which showed how he was struggling against his own weakness. “Is your sword bewitched, or under the influence of some imperial charm?”
“Why, you must know that my sword may almost be regarded as part of my own body. I have heard that certain men seem to have warnings given them by feeling something the matter with their legs, or a throbbing66 of their temples. With me, it is my sword that warns me. Well, it told me of nothing this morning. But, stay a moment — look here, it has just fallen of its own accord into the last hole of the belt. Do you know what that is a warning of?”
“No.”
“Well, that tells me of an arrest that will have to be made this very day.”
“Well,” said the surintendant, more astonished than annoyed by this frankness, “if there is nothing disagreeable predicted to you by your sword, I am to conclude that it is not disagreeable for you to arrest me.”
“You! arrest you!”
“Of course. The warning —”
“Does not concern you, since you have been arrested ever since yesterday. It is not you I shall have to arrest, be assured of that. That is the reason why I am delighted, and also the reason why I said that my day will be a happy one.”
And with these words, pronounced with the most affectionate graciousness of manner, the captain took leave of Fouquet in order to wait upon the king. He was on the point of leaving the room, when Fouquet said to him, “One last mark of kindness.”
“What is it, monseigneur?”
“M. d’Herblay; let me see Monsieur d’Herblay.”
“I am going to try and get him to come to you.”
D’Artagnan did not think himself so good a prophet. It was written that the day would pass away and realize all the predictions that had been made in the morning. He had accordingly knocked, as we have seen, at the king’s door. The door opened. The captain thought that it was the king who had just opened it himself; and this supposition was not altogether inadmissible, considering the state of agitation67 in which he had left Louis XIV. the previous evening; but instead of his royal master, whom he was on the point of saluting68 with the greatest respect, he perceived the long, calm features of Aramis. So extreme was his surprise that he could hardly refrain from uttering a loud exclamation69. “Aramis!” he said.
“Good morning, dear D’Artagnan,” replied the prelate, coldly.
“You here!” stammered70 out the musketeer.
“His majesty desires you to report that he is still sleeping, after having been greatly fatigued72 during the whole night.”
“Ah!” said D’Artagnan, who could not understand how the bishop of Vannes, who had been so indifferent a favorite the previous evening, had become in half a dozen hours the most magnificent mushroom of fortune that had ever sprung up in a sovereign’s bedroom. In fact, to transmit the orders of the king even to the mere71 threshold of that monarch’s room, to serve as an intermediary of Louis XIV. so as to be able to give a single order in his name at a couple paces from him, he must have become more than Richelieu had ever been to Louis XIII. D’Artagnan’s expressive73 eye, half-opened lips, his curling mustache, said as much indeed in the plainest language to the chief favorite, who remained calm and perfectly74 unmoved.
“Moreover,” continued the bishop, “you will be good enough, monsieur le capitaine des mousquetaires, to allow those only to pass into the king’s room this morning who have special permission. His majesty does not wish to be disturbed just yet.”
“But,” objected D’Artagnan, almost on the point of refusing to obey this order, and particularly of giving unrestrained passage to the suspicions which the king’s silence had aroused —“but, monsieur l’eveque, his majesty gave me a rendezvous for this morning.”
“Later, later,” said the king’s voice, from the bottom of the alcove75; a voice which made a cold shudder pass through the musketeer’s veins76. He bowed, amazed, confused, and stupefied by the smile with which Aramis seemed to overwhelm him, as soon as these words had been pronounced.
“And then,” continued the bishop, “as an answer to what you were coming to ask the king, my dear D’Artagnan, here is an order of his majesty, which you will be good enough to attend to forthwith, for it concerns M. Fouquet.”
D’Artagnan took the order which was held out to him. “To be set at liberty!” he murmured. “Ah!” and he uttered a second “ah!” still more full of intelligence than the former; for this order explained Aramis’s presence with the king, and that Aramis, in order to have obtained Fouquet’s pardon, must have made considerable progress in the royal favor, and that this favor explained, in its tenor77, the hardly conceivable assurance with which M. d’Herblay issued the order in the king’s name. For D’Artagnan it was quite sufficient to have understood something of the matter in hand to order to understand the rest. He bowed and withdrew a couple of paces, as though he were about to leave.
“I am going with you,” said the bishop.
“Where to?”
“To M. Fouquet; I wish to be a witness of his delight.”
“Ah! Aramis, how you puzzled me just now!” said D’Artagnan again.
“But you understand now, I suppose?”
“Of course I understand,” he said aloud; but added in a low tone to himself, almost hissing78 the words between his teeth, “No, no, I do not understand yet. But it is all the same, for here is the order for it.” And then he added, “I will lead the way, monseigneur,” and he conducted Aramis to Fouquet’s apartments.
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1
imprisoned
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| 下狱，监禁( imprison的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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dungeon
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| n.地牢，土牢 | |
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rhetoric
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| n.修辞学，浮夸之言语 | |
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antithesis
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| n.对立；相对 | |
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canopy
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| n.天篷，遮篷 | |
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scatters
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| v.（使）散开， （使）分散，驱散( scatter的第三人称单数 )；撒 | |
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7
embellishes
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| v.美化( embellish的第三人称单数 )；装饰；修饰；润色 | |
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counterfoil
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| n.(支票、邮局汇款单、收据等的)存根，票根 | |
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9
descended
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| a.为...后裔的，出身于...的 | |
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10
dedicated
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| adj.一心一意的；献身的；热诚的 | |
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dome
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| n.圆屋顶，拱顶 | |
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12
ascended
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| v.上升，攀登( ascend的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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13
subterranean
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| adj.地下的，地表下的 | |
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14
throbs
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| 体内的跳动( throb的名词复数 ) | |
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15
accomplice
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| n.从犯，帮凶，同谋 | |
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16
destined
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| adj.命中注定的；(for)以…为目的地的 | |
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17
spoke
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| n.（车轮的）辐条；轮辐；破坏某人的计划；阻挠某人的行动 v.讲，谈（speak的过去式）；说；演说；从某种观点来说 | |
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18
guilt
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| n.犯罪；内疚；过失，罪责 | |
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bent
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| n.爱好，癖好；adj.弯的；决心的，一心的 | |
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gore
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| n.凝血，血污；v.（动物）用角撞伤，用牙刺破；缝以补裆；顶 | |
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21
captivity
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| n.囚禁；被俘；束缚 | |
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22
usurped
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| 篡夺，霸占( usurp的过去式和过去分词 )； 盗用； 篡夺，篡权 | |
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23
scruples
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| n.良心上的不安( scruple的名词复数 )；顾虑，顾忌v.感到于心不安，有顾忌( scruple的第三人称单数 ) | |
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embroidered
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| adj．绣花的 | |
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usurper
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| n. 篡夺者, 僭取者 | |
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remorse
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| n.痛恨，悔恨，自责 | |
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instinctive
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| adj.(出于)本能的；直觉的；(出于)天性的 | |
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repugnance
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| n.嫌恶 | |
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shudder
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| v.战粟，震动，剧烈地摇晃；n.战粟，抖动 | |
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den
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| n.兽穴；秘密地方；安静的小房间，私室 | |
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attentively
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| adv.聚精会神地；周到地；谛；凝神 | |
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throbbed
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| 抽痛( throb的过去式和过去分词 )； （心脏、脉搏等）跳动 | |
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resolute
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| adj.坚决的，果敢的 | |
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imminent
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| adj.即将发生的，临近的，逼近的 | |
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shrouded
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| v.隐瞒( shroud的过去式和过去分词 )；保密 | |
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glided
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| v.滑动( glide的过去式和过去分词 )；掠过；（鸟或飞机 ） 滑翔 | |
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chamber
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| n.房间，寝室；会议厅；议院；会所 | |
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accomplished
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| adj.有才艺的；有造诣的；达到了的 | |
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entreaties
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| n.恳求，乞求( entreaty的名词复数 ) | |
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stupor
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| v.昏迷；不省人事 | |
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confidentially
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| ad.秘密地，悄悄地 | |
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conspirator
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| n.阴谋者，谋叛者 | |
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majesty
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| n.雄伟，壮丽，庄严，威严；最高权威，王权 | |
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phlegmatically
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45
conspirators
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| n.共谋者，阴谋家( conspirator的名词复数 ) | |
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concealed
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| a.隐藏的，隐蔽的 | |
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mutual
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| adj.相互的，彼此的；共同的，共有的 | |
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48
prick
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| v.刺伤，刺痛，刺孔；n.刺伤，刺痛 | |
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retired
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| adj.隐退的，退休的，退役的 | |
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50
decided
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| adj.决定了的，坚决的；明显的，明确的 | |
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51
resolutely
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| adj.坚决地，果断地 | |
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52
penetrate
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| v.透(渗)入；刺入，刺穿；洞察，了解 | |
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thoroughly
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| adv.完全地，彻底地，十足地 | |
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54
scent
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| n.气味，香味，香水，线索，嗅觉；v.嗅，发觉 | |
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55
rendezvous
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| n.约会，约会地点，汇合点；vi.汇合，集合；vt.使汇合，使在汇合地点相遇 | |
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56
redoubtable
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| adj.可敬的；可怕的 | |
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57
antagonist
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| n.敌人，对抗者，对手 | |
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58
bishop
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| n.主教，（国际象棋）象 | |
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59
feigning
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| 假装，伪装( feign的现在分词 )； 捏造（借口、理由等） | |
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60
sumptuous
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| adj.豪华的，奢侈的，华丽的 | |
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61
inspection
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| n.检查，审查，检阅 | |
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duel
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| n./v.决斗；(双方的)斗争 | |
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dangled
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| 悬吊着( dangle的过去式和过去分词 )； 摆动不定； 用某事物诱惑…； 吊胃口 | |
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64
calves
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| n.(calf的复数)笨拙的男子，腓；腿肚子( calf的名词复数 )；牛犊；腓；小腿肚v.生小牛( calve的第三人称单数 )；（冰川）崩解；生（小牛等），产（犊）；使（冰川）崩解 | |
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surgical
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| adj.外科的，外科医生的，手术上的 | |
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throbbing
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| a. 跳动的,悸动的 | |
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agitation
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| n.搅动；搅拌；鼓动，煽动 | |
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68
saluting
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| v.欢迎，致敬( salute的现在分词 )；赞扬，赞颂 | |
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69
exclamation
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| n.感叹号，惊呼，惊叹词 | |
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70
stammered
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| v.结巴地说出( stammer的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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mere
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| adj.纯粹的；仅仅，只不过 | |
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72
fatigued
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| adj. 疲乏的 | |
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73
expressive
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| adj.表现的，表达…的，富于表情的 | |
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perfectly
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| adv.完美地，无可非议地，彻底地 | |
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alcove
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| n.凹室 | |
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76
veins
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| n.纹理；矿脉( vein的名词复数 )；静脉；叶脉；纹理 | |
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tenor
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| n.男高音（歌手），次中音（乐器），要旨，大意 | |
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hissing
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| n. 发嘶嘶声, 蔑视 动词hiss的现在分词形式 | |
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