The two men were on the point of darting3 towards each other when they suddenly and abruptly4 stopped, as a mutual5 recognition took place, and each uttered a cry of horror.
“Have you come to assassinate6 me, monsieur?” said the king, when he recognized Fouquet.
“The king in this state!” murmured the minister.
Nothing could be more terrible indeed than the appearance of the young prince at the moment Fouquet had surprised him; his clothes were in tatters; his shirt, open and torn to rags, was stained with sweat and with the blood which streamed from his lacerated breast and arms. Haggard, ghastly pale, his hair in disheveled masses, Louis XIV. presented the most perfect picture of despair, distress7, anger and fear combined that could possibly be united in one figure. Fouquet was so touched, so affected8 and disturbed by it, that he ran towards him with his arms stretched out and his eyes filled with tears. Louis held up the massive piece of wood of which he had made such a furious use.
“Sire,” said Fouquet, in a voice trembling with emotion, “do you not recognize the most faithful of your friends?”
“A friend — you!” repeated Louis, gnashing his teeth in a manner which betrayed his hate and desire for speedy vengeance9.
“The most respectful of your servants,” added Fouquet, throwing himself on his knees. The king let the rude weapon fall from his grasp. Fouquet approached him, kissed his knees, and took him in his arms with inconceivable tenderness.
“My king, my child,” he said, “how you must have suffered!”
Louis, recalled to himself by the change of situation, looked at himself, and ashamed of the disordered state of his apparel, ashamed of his conduct, and ashamed of the air of pity and protection that was shown towards him, drew back. Fouquet did not understand this movement; he did not perceive that the king’s feeling of pride would never forgive him for having been a witness of such an exhibition of weakness.
“Come, sire,” he said, “you are free.”
“Free?” repeated the king. “Oh! you set me at liberty, then, after having dared to lift up your hand against me.”
“You do not believe that!” exclaimed Fouquet, indignantly; “you cannot believe me to be guilty of such an act.”
And rapidly, warmly even, he related the whole particulars of the intrigue10, the details of which are already known to the reader. While the recital11 continued, Louis suffered the most horrible anguish12 of mind; and when it was finished, the magnitude of the danger he had run struck him far more than the importance of the secret relative to his twin brother.
“Monsieur,” he said, suddenly to Fouquet, “this double birth is a falsehood; it is impossible — you cannot have been the dupe of it.”
“Sire!”
“It is impossible, I tell you, that the honor, the virtue13 of my mother can be suspected, and my first minister has not yet done justice on the criminals!”
“Reflect, sire, before you are hurried away by anger,” replied Fouquet. “The birth of your brother —”
“I have only one brother — and that is Monsieur. You know it as well as myself. There is a plot, I tell you, beginning with the governor of the Bastile.”
“Be careful, sire, for this man has been deceived as every one else has by the prince’s likeness14 to yourself.”
“Likeness? Absurd!”
“This Marchiali must be singularly like your majesty15, to be able to deceive every one’s eye,” Fouquet persisted.
“Ridiculous!”
“Do not say so, sire; those who had prepared everything in order to face and deceive your ministers, your mother, your officers of state, the members of your family, must be quite confident of the resemblance between you.”
“But where are these persons, then?” murmured the king.
“At Vaux.”
“At Vaux! and you suffer them to remain there!”
“My most instant duty appeared to me to be your majesty’s release. I have accomplished16 that duty; and now, whatever your majesty may command, shall be done. I await your orders.”
Louis reflected for a few moments.
“Muster all the troops in Paris,” he said.
“All the necessary orders are given for that purpose,” replied Fouquet.
“You have given orders!” exclaimed the king.
“For that purpose, yes, sire; your majesty will be at the head of ten thousand men in less than an hour.”
The only reply the king made was to take hold of Fouquet’s hand with such an expression of feeling, that it was very easy to perceive how strongly he had, until that remark, maintained his suspicions of the minister, notwithstanding the latter’s intervention17.
“And with these troops,” he said, “we shall go at once and besiege18 in your house the rebels who by this time will have established and intrenched themselves therein.”
“I should be surprised if that were the case,” replied Fouquet.
“Why?”
“Because their chief — the very soul of the enterprise — having been unmasked by me, the whole plan seems to me to have miscarried.”
“You have unmasked this false prince also?”
“No, I have not seen him.”
“Whom have you seen, then?”
“The leader of the enterprise, not that unhappy young man; the latter is merely an instrument, destined19 through his whole life to wretchedness, I plainly perceive.”
“Most certainly.”
“It is M. l’Abbe d’Herblay, Eveque de Vannes.”
“Your friend?”
“He was my friend, sire,” replied Fouquet, nobly.
“An unfortunate circumstance for you,” said the king, in a less generous tone of voice.
“Such friendships, sire, had nothing dishonorable in them so long as I was ignorant of the crime.”
“You should have foreseen it.”
“If I am guilty, I place myself in your majesty’s hands.”
“Ah! Monsieur Fouquet, it was not that I meant,” returned the king, sorry to have shown the bitterness of his thought in such a manner. “Well! I assure you that, notwithstanding the mask with which the villain20 covered his face, I had something like a vague suspicion that he was the very man. But with this chief of the enterprise there was a man of prodigious21 strength, the one who menaced me with a force almost herculean; what is he?”
“It must be his friend the Baron22 du Vallon, formerly23 one of the musketeers.”
“The friend of D’Artagnan? the friend of the Comte de la Fere? Ah!” exclaimed the king, as he paused at the name of the latter, “we must not forget the connection that existed between the conspirators25 and M. de Bragelonne.”
“Sire, sire, do not go too far. M. de la Fere is the most honorable man in France. Be satisfied with those whom I deliver up to you.”
“With those whom you deliver up to me, you say? Very good, for you will deliver up those who are guilty to me.”
“What does your majesty understand by that?” inquired Fouquet.
“I understand,” replied the king, “that we shall soon arrive at Vaux with a large body of troops, that we will lay violent hands upon that nest of vipers26, and that not a soul shall escape.”
“Your majesty will put these men to death!” cried Fouquet.
“To the very meanest of them.”
“Oh! sire.”
“Let us understand one another, Monsieur Fouquet,” said the king, haughtily27. “We no longer live in times when assassination28 was the only and the last resource kings held in reservation at extremity29. No, Heaven be praised! I have parliaments who sit and judge in my name, and I have scaffolds on which supreme30 authority is carried out.”
Fouquet turned pale. “I will take the liberty of observing to your majesty, that any proceedings31 instituted respecting these matters would bring down the greatest scandal upon the dignity of the throne. The august name of Anne of Austria must never be allowed to pass the lips of the people accompanied by a smile.”
“Justice must be done, however, monsieur.”
“Good, sire; but royal blood must not be shed upon a scaffold.”
“The royal blood! you believe that!” cried the king with fury in his voice, stamping his foot on the ground. “This double birth is an invention; and in that invention, particularly, do I see M. d’Herblay’s crime. It is the crime I wish to punish rather than the violence, or the insult.”
“And punish it with death, sire?”
“With death; yes, monsieur, I have said it.”
“Sire,” said the surintendant, with firmness, as he raised his head proudly, “your majesty will take the life, if you please, of your brother Philippe of France; that concerns you alone, and you will doubtless consult the queen-mother upon the subject. Whatever she may command will be perfectly32 correct. I do not wish to mix myself up in it, not even for the honor of your crown, but I have a favor to ask of you, and I beg to submit it to you.”
“Speak,” said the king, in no little degree agitated33 by his minister’s last words. “What do you require?”
“The pardon of M. d’Herblay and of M. du Vallon.”
“My assassins?”
“Two rebels, sire, that is all.”
“Oh! I understand, then, you ask me to forgive your friends.”
“My friends!” said Fouquet, deeply wounded.
“Your friends, certainly; but the safety of the state requires that an exemplary punishment should be inflicted34 on the guilty.”
“I will not permit myself to remind your majesty that I have just restored you to liberty, and have saved your life.”
“Monsieur!”
“I will not allow myself to remind your majesty that had M. d’Herblay wished to carry out his character of an assassin, he could very easily have assassinated35 your majesty this morning in the forest of Senart, and all would have been over.” The king started.
“A pistol-bullet through the head,” pursued Fouquet, “and the disfigured features of Louis XIV., which no one could have recognized, would be M. d’Herblay’s complete and entire justification36.”
The king turned pale and giddy at the bare idea of the danger he had escaped.
“If M. d’Herblay,” continued Fouquet, “had been an assassin, he had no occasion to inform me of his plan in order to succeed. Freed from the real king, it would have been impossible in all futurity to guess the false. And if the usurper37 had been recognized by Anne of Austria, he would still have been — her son. The usurper, as far as Monsieur d’Herblay’s conscience was concerned, was still a king of the blood of Louis XIII. Moreover, the conspirator24, in that course, would have had security, secrecy38, impunity39. A pistol-bullet would have procured40 him all that. For the sake of Heaven, sire, grant me his forgiveness.”
The king, instead of being touched by the picture, so faithfully drawn41 in all details, of Aramis’s generosity42, felt himself most painfully and cruelly humiliated43. His unconquerable pride revolted at the idea that a man had held suspended at the end of his finger the thread of his royal life. Every word that fell from Fouquet’s lips, and which he thought most efficacious in procuring45 his friend’s pardon, seemed to pour another drop of poison into the already ulcerated heart of Louis XIV. Nothing could bend or soften46 him. Addressing himself to Fouquet, he said, “I really don’t know, monsieur, why you should solicit47 the pardon of these men. What good is there in asking that which can be obtained without solicitation48?”
“I do not understand you, sire.”
“It is not difficult, either. Where am I now?”
“In the Bastile, sire.”
“Yes; in a dungeon49. I am looked upon as a madman, am I not?”
“Yes, sire.”
“And no one is known here but Marchiali?”
“Certainly.”
“Well; change nothing in the position of affairs. Let the poor madman rot between the slimy walls of the Bastile, and M. d’Herblay and M. du Vallon will stand in no need of my forgiveness. Their new king will absolve50 them.”
“Your majesty does me a great injustice51, sire; and you are wrong,” replied Fouquet, dryly; “I am not child enough, nor is M. d’Herblay silly enough, to have omitted to make all these reflections; and if I had wished to make a new king, as you say, I had no occasion to have come here to force open the gates and doors of the Bastile, to free you from this place. That would show a want of even common sense. Your majesty’s mind is disturbed by anger; otherwise you would be far from offending, groundlessly, the very one of your servants who has rendered you the most important service of all.”
Louis perceived that he had gone too far; that the gates of the Bastile were still closed upon him, whilst, by degrees, the floodgates were gradually being opened, behind which the generous-hearted Fouquet had restrained his anger. “I did not say that to humiliate44 you, Heaven knows, monsieur,” he replied. “Only you are addressing yourself to me in order to obtain a pardon, and I answer according to my conscience. And so, judging by my conscience, the criminals we speak of are not worthy52 of consideration or forgiveness.”
Fouquet was silent.
“What I do is as generous,” added the king, “as what you have done, for I am in your power. I will even say it is more generous, inasmuch as you place before me certain conditions upon which my liberty, my life, may depend; and to reject which is to make a sacrifice of both.”
“I was wrong, certainly,” replied Fouquet. “Yes — I had the appearance of extorting53 a favor; I regret it, and entreat54 your majesty’s forgiveness.”
“And you are forgiven, my dear Monsieur Fouquet,” said the king, with a smile, which restored the serene55 expression of his features, which so many circumstances had altered since the preceding evening.
“I have my own forgiveness,” replied the minister, with some degree of persistence56; “but M. d’Herblay, and M. du Vallon?”
“They will never obtain theirs, as long as I live,” replied the inflexible57 king. “Do me the kindness not to speak of it again.”
“Your majesty shall be obeyed.”
“And you will bear me no ill-will for it?”
“Oh! no, sire; for I anticipated the event.”
“You had ‘anticipated’ that I should refuse to forgive those gentlemen?”
“Certainly; and all my measures were taken in consequence.”
“What do you mean to say?” cried the king, surprised.
“M. d’Herblay came, as may be said, to deliver himself into my hands. M. d’Herblay left to me the happiness of saving my king and my country. I could not condemn58 M. d’Herblay to death; nor could I, on the other hand, expose him to your majesty’s justifiable59 wrath60; it would have been just the same as if I had killed him myself.”
“Well! and what have you done?”
“Sire, I gave M. d’Herblay the best horses in my stables and four hours’ start over all those your majesty might, probably, dispatch after him.”
“Be it so!” murmured the king. “But still, the world is wide enough and large enough for those whom I may send to overtake your horses, notwithstanding the ‘four hours’ start’ which you have given to M. d’Herblay.”
“In giving him these four hours, sire, I knew I was giving him his life, and he will save his life.”
“In what way?”
“After having galloped61 as hard as possible, with the four hours’ start, before your musketeers, he will reach my chateau62 of Belle–Isle, where I have given him a safe asylum63.”
“That may be! But you forget that you have made me a present of Belle–Isle.”
“But not for you to arrest my friends.”
“You take it back again, then?”
“As far as that goes — yes, sire.”
“My musketeers shall capture it, and the affair will be at an end.”
“Neither your musketeers, nor your whole army could take Belle–Isle,” said Fouquet, coldly. “Belle–Isle is impregnable.”
The king became perfectly livid; a lightning flash seemed to dart2 from his eyes. Fouquet felt that he was lost, but he as not one to shrink when the voice of honor spoke64 loudly within him. He bore the king’s wrathful gaze; the latter swallowed his rage, and after a few moments’ silence, said, “Are we going to return to Vaux?”
“I am at your majesty’s orders,” replied Fouquet, with a low bow; “but I think that your majesty can hardly dispense65 with changing your clothes previous to appearing before your court.”
“We shall pass by the Louvre,” said the king. “Come.” And they left the prison, passing before Baisemeaux, who looked completely bewildered as he saw Marchiali once more leave; and, in his helplessness, tore out the major portion of his few remaining hairs. It was perfectly true, however, that Fouquet wrote and gave him an authority for the prisoner’s release, and that the king wrote beneath it, “Seen and approved, Louis”; a piece of madness that Baisemeaux, incapable66 of putting two ideas together, acknowledged by giving himself a terrible blow on the forehead with his own fist.
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1
gratitude
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| adj.感激，感谢 | |
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dart
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| v.猛冲，投掷；n.飞镖，猛冲 | |
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darting
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| v.投掷，投射( dart的现在分词 )；向前冲，飞奔 | |
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abruptly
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| adv.突然地，出其不意地 | |
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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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assassinate
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| vt.暗杀，行刺，中伤 | |
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distress
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| n.苦恼，痛苦，不舒适；不幸；vt.使悲痛 | |
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affected
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| adj.不自然的，假装的 | |
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vengeance
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| n.报复，报仇，复仇 | |
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intrigue
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| vt.激起兴趣，迷住；vi.耍阴谋；n.阴谋，密谋 | |
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recital
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| n.朗诵，独奏会，独唱会 | |
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anguish
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| n.(尤指心灵上的)极度痛苦，烦恼 | |
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virtue
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| n.德行，美德；贞操；优点；功效，效力 | |
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likeness
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| n.相像，相似（之处） | |
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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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accomplished
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| adj.有才艺的；有造诣的；达到了的 | |
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intervention
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| n.介入，干涉，干预 | |
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besiege
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| vt.包围，围攻，拥在...周围 | |
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destined
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| adj.命中注定的；(for)以…为目的地的 | |
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villain
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| n.反派演员，反面人物；恶棍；问题的起因 | |
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prodigious
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| adj.惊人的，奇妙的；异常的；巨大的；庞大的 | |
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baron
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| n.男爵；(商业界等)巨头，大王 | |
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formerly
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| adv.从前，以前 | |
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conspirator
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| n.阴谋者，谋叛者 | |
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conspirators
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| n.共谋者，阴谋家( conspirator的名词复数 ) | |
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vipers
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| n.蝰蛇( viper的名词复数 )；毒蛇；阴险恶毒的人；奸诈者 | |
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haughtily
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| adv. 傲慢地, 高傲地 | |
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assassination
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| n.暗杀；暗杀事件 | |
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extremity
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| n.末端，尽头；尽力；终极；极度 | |
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supreme
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| adj.极度的，最重要的；至高的，最高的 | |
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proceedings
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| n.进程，过程，议程；诉讼(程序)；公报 | |
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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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agitated
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| adj.被鼓动的，不安的 | |
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inflicted
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| 把…强加给，使承受，遭受( inflict的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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assassinated
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| v.暗杀( assassinate的过去式和过去分词 )；中伤；诋毁；破坏 | |
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justification
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| n.正当的理由；辩解的理由 | |
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usurper
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| n. 篡夺者, 僭取者 | |
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secrecy
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| n.秘密，保密，隐蔽 | |
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impunity
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| n.(惩罚、损失、伤害等的)免除 | |
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procured
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| v.（努力）取得， （设法）获得( procure的过去式和过去分词 )；拉皮条 | |
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drawn
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| v.拖，拉，拔出；adj.憔悴的，紧张的 | |
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generosity
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| n.大度，慷慨，慷慨的行为 | |
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43
humiliated
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| 感到羞愧的 | |
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humiliate
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| v.使羞辱，使丢脸[同]disgrace | |
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procuring
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| v.（努力）取得， （设法）获得( procure的现在分词 )；拉皮条 | |
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soften
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| v.(使)变柔软；(使)变柔和 | |
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solicit
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| vi.勾引；乞求；vt.请求，乞求；招揽(生意) | |
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solicitation
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| n.诱惑；揽货；恳切地要求；游说 | |
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49
dungeon
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| n.地牢，土牢 | |
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50
absolve
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| v.赦免，解除（责任等） | |
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injustice
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| n.非正义，不公正，不公平，侵犯（别人的）权利 | |
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52
worthy
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| adj.(of)值得的，配得上的；有价值的 | |
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53
extorting
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| v.敲诈( extort的现在分词 )；曲解 | |
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54
entreat
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| v.恳求，恳请 | |
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55
serene
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| adj. 安详的，宁静的，平静的 | |
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56
persistence
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| n.坚持，持续，存留 | |
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inflexible
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| adj.不可改变的，不受影响的，不屈服的 | |
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58
condemn
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| vt.谴责，指责；宣判(罪犯)，判刑 | |
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justifiable
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| adj.有理由的，无可非议的 | |
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60
wrath
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| n.愤怒，愤慨，暴怒 | |
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61
galloped
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| （使马）飞奔，奔驰( gallop的过去式和过去分词 )； 快速做[说]某事 | |
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62
chateau
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| n.城堡，别墅 | |
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63
asylum
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| n.避难所，庇护所，避难 | |
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64
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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dispense
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| vt.分配，分发；配(药)，发(药)；实施 | |
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66
incapable
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| adj.无能力的，不能做某事的 | |
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