CHAPTER XCI.
HIGH TREASON.
The ungovernable fury which took possession of the king at the sight andat the perusal of Fouquet's letter to La Valliere by degrees subsidedinto a feeling of pain and extreme weariness. Youth, invigorated byhealth and lightness of spirits, and requiring that what it loses shouldbe immediately restored--youth knows not those endless, sleepless nightswhich enable us to realize the fable of the vulture unceasingly feedingon Prometheus. In instances where the man of middle life, in hisacquired strength of will and purpose, and the old man, in his state ofexhaustion, find an incessant augmentation of their bitter sorrow, ayoung man, surprised by the sudden appearance of a misfortune, weakenshimself in sighs, and groans, and tears, in direct struggles with it,and is thereby far sooner overthrown by the inflexible enemy with whomhe is engaged. Once overthrown, his struggles cease. Louis could nothold out more than a few minutes, at the end of which he had ceased toclench his hands, and to burn up with his looks the invisible objects ofhis hatred; he soon ceased to attack with his violent imprecations notM. Fouquet alone, but even La Valliere herself: from fury he subsidedinto despair, and from despair to prostration. After he had thrownhimself for a few minutes to and fro convulsively on his bed, hisnerveless arms fell quietly down; his head lay languidly on his pillow;his limbs, exhausted from his excessive emotions, still trembledoccasionally, agitated by slight muscular contractions; and from hisbreast only faint and unfrequent sighs still issued. Morpheus, thetutelary deity of the apartment, toward whom Louis raised his eyes,wearied by his anger and reddened by his tears, showered down upon himthe sleep-inducing poppies with which his hands were filled; so that theking gently closed his eyes and fell asleep.
Then it seemed to him, as it often happens in that first sleep, so lightand gentle, which raises the body above the couch, the soul above theearth--it seemed to him, we say, as if the god Morpheus, painted on theceiling, looked at him with eyes resembling human eyes; that somethingshone brightly, and moved to and fro in the dome above the sleeper; thatthe crowd of terrible dreams which thronged together in his brain, andwhich were interrupted for a moment, half-revealed a human face, with ahand resting against the mouth, and in an attitude of deep and absorbedmeditation. And strange enough, too, this man bore so wonderful aresemblance to the king himself, that Louis fancied he was looking athis own face reflected in a mirror; with the exception, however, thatthe face was saddened by a feeling of the profoundest pity. Then itseemed to him as if the dome gradually retired, escaping from his gaze,and that the figures and attributes painted by Lebrun became darker anddarker as the distance became more and more remote. A gentle, easymovement, as regular as that by which a vessel plunges beneath thewaves, had succeeded to the immovableness of the bed. Doubtless the kingwas dreaming, and in this dream the crown of gold which fastened thecurtains together seemed to recede from his vision, just as the dome, towhich it remained suspended, had done, so that the winged genius which,with both its hands, supported the crown, seemed, though vainly so, tocall upon the king, who was fast disappearing from it. The bed stillsunk. Louis, with his eyes open, could not resist the deception of thiscruel hallucination. At last, as the light of the royal chamber fadedaway into darkness and gloom, something cold, gloomy, and inexplicablein its nature seemed to infect the air. No paintings, nor gold, norvelvet hangings, were visible any longer, nothing but walls of a dullgray color, which the increasing gloom made darker every moment. And yetthe bed still continued to descend, and after a minute, which seemed inits duration almost an age to the king, it reached a stratum of air,black and still as death, and then it stopped. The king could no longersee the light in his room, except as from the bottom of a well we cansee the light of day. "I am under the influence of a terrible dream," hethought. "It is time to awaken from it. Come! let me wake up."
Every one has experienced what the above remark conveys; there is hardlya person who, in the midst of a nightmare, whose influence issuffocating, has not said to himself by the help of that light whichstill burns in the brain when every human light is extinguished, "It isnothing but a dream after all." This was precisely what Louis XIV. saidto himself; but when he said, "Come, come! wake up," he perceived thatnot only was he already awake, but still more, that he had his eyes openalso; he then looked all round him. On his right hand and on his lefttwo armed men stood silently, each wrapped in a huge cloak, and the facecovered with a mask; one of them held a small lamp in his hand, whoseglimmering light revealed the saddest picture a king could look upon.Louis could not help saying to himself that his dream still lasted, andthat all he had to do to cause it to disappear was to move his arms orto say something aloud; he darted from his bed, and found himself uponthe damp moist ground. Then, addressing himself to the man who held thelamp in his hand, he said:
"What is this, monsieur, and what is the meaning of this jest?"
"It is no jest," replied in a deep voice the masked figure that held thelantern.
"Do you belong to M. Fouquet?" inquired the king, greatly astonished athis situation.
"It matters very little to whom we belong," said the phantom; "we areyour masters now, that is sufficient."
The king, more impatient than intimidated, turned to the other maskedfigure. "If this is a comedy," he said, "you will tell M. Fouquet that Ifind it unseemly and improper, and that I desire it should cease."
The second masked person to whom the king had addressed himself was aman of huge stature and vast circumference. He held himself erect andmotionless as a block of marble. "Well!" added the king, stamping hisfoot, "you do not answer!"
"We do not answer you, my good monsieur," said the giant in a stentorianvoice, "because there is nothing to answer."
"At least, tell me what you want?" exclaimed Louis, folding his armswith a passionate gesture.
"You will know by-and-by," replied the man who held the lamp.
"In the meantime tell me where I am?"
"Look."
Louis looked all round him; but by the light of the lamp which themasked figure raised for the purpose, he could perceive nothing but thedamp walls which glistened here and there with the slimy traces of thesnail. "Oh! oh! a dungeon," said the king.
"No, a subterranean passage."
"Which leads--?"
"Will you be good enough to follow us."
"I shall not stir from hence!" cried the king.
"If you are obstinate, my dear young friend," replied the taller andstouter of the two, "I will lift you up in my arms, will roll you up ina cloak, and if you are stifled there, why so much the worse for you."
And as he said this, he disengaged from beneath his cloak a hand ofwhich Milo of Crotona would have envied him the possession, on the daywhen he had that unhappy idea of rending his last oak. The king dreadedviolence, for he could well believe that the two men into whose power hehad fallen had not gone so far with any idea of drawing back, and thatthey would consequently be ready to proceed to extremities, ifnecessary. He shook his head, and said: "It seems I have fallen into thehands of a couple of assassins. Move on, then."
Neither of the men answered a word to this remark. The one who carriedthe lantern walked the first, the king followed him, while the secondmasked figure closed the procession. In this manner they passed along awinding gallery of some length, with as many staircases leading out ofit as are to be found in the mysterious and gloomy palaces of AnnRadcliff's creation. All these windings and turnings, during which theking heard the sound of falling water over his head, ended at last in along corridor closed by an iron door. The figure with the lamp openedthe door with one of the keys he wore suspended at his girdle, where,during the whole of the time, the king had heard them rattle. As soon asthe door was opened and admitted the air, Louis recognized the balmyodors which are exhaled by the trees after a hot summer's day. Hepaused, hesitatingly, for a moment or two; but his huge companion whofollowed him thrust him out of the subterranean passage.
"Another blow," said the king, turning to
ward the one who had just hadthe audacity to touch his sovereign; "what do you intend to do with theking of France?"
"Try and forget that word," replied the man with the lamp, in a tonewhich as little admitted of a reply as one of the famous decrees ofMinos.
"You deserve to be broken on the wheel for the word you have just madeuse of," said the giant, as he extinguished the lamp his companionhanded to him; "but the king is too kind-hearted."
Louis, at that threat made so sudden a movement that it seemed as if hemeditated flight; but the giant's hand was in a moment placed on hisshoulder, and fixed him motionless where he stood. "But tell me, atleast, where we are going," said the king.
"Come," replied the former of the two men, with a kind of respect in hismanner, and leading his prisoner toward a carriage which seemed to bein waiting.
The carriage was completely concealed amid the trees. Two horses, withtheir feet fettered, were fastened by a halter to the lower branches ofa large oak.
"Get in," said the same man, opening the carriage door and letting downthe step. The king obeyed, seated himself at the back of the carriage,the padded door of which was shut and locked immediately upon him andhis guide. As for the giant, he cut the fastenings by which the horseswere bound, harnessed them himself, and mounted on the box of thecarriage, which was unoccupied. The carriage set off immediately at aquick trot, turned into the road to Paris, and in the forest of Senartfound a relay of horses fastened to the trees in the same manner thefirst horses had been, and without a postilion. The man on the boxchanged the horses, and continued to follow the road toward Paris withthe same rapidity, and entered the city about three o'clock in themorning. The carriage proceeded along the Faubourg Saint-Antoine, andafter having called out to the sentinel, "by the king's order," thedriver conducted the horses into the circular inclosure of the Bastille,looking out upon the courtyard, called La Cour du Gouvernement. Therethe horses drew up, reeking with sweat, at the flight of steps, and asergeant of the guard ran forward. "Go and wake the governor," said thecoachman in a voice of thunder.
With the exception of this voice, which might have been heard at theentrance of the Faubourg Saint-Antoine, everything remained as calm inthe carriage as in the prison. Ten minutes afterward, M. de Baisemeauxappeared in his dressing-gown on the threshold of the door. "What is thematter now?" he asked; "and whom have you brought me there?"
The man with the lantern opened the carriage-door, and said two or threewords to the one who acted as driver, who immediately got down from hisseat, took up a short musket which he kept under his feet, and placedits muzzle on the prisoner's chest.
"WHAT IS THIS, MONSIEUR, AND WHAT IS THE MEANING OFTHIS JEST?" "IT IS NO JEST," REPLIED IN A DEEP VOICE THE MASKED FIGURETHAT HELD THE LANTERN.--_Page 367._]
"And fire at once if he speaks!" added aloud the man who alighted fromthe carriage.
"Very good!" replied his companion, without any other remark.
With this recommendation, the person who had accompanied the king in thecarriage ascended the flight of steps, at the top of which the governorwas awaiting him. "Monsieur d'Herblay!" said the latter.
"Hush!" said Aramis. "Let us go into your room."
"Good heavens! what brings you here at this hour?"
"A mistake, my dear Monsieur de Baisemeaux," Aramis replied, quietly."It appears that you were quite right the other day."
"What about?" inquired the governor.
"About the order of release, my dear friend."
"Tell me what you mean, monsieur--no, monseigneur," said the governor,almost suffocated by surprise and terror.
"It is a very simple affair; you remember, dear M. de Baisemeaux, thatan order of release was sent to you."
"Yes, for Marchiali."
"Very good! we both thought that it was for Marchiali?"
"Certainly; you will recollect, however, that I would not believe it,but that you compelled me."
"Oh! Baisemeaux, my good fellow, what a word to make use of!--stronglyrecommended, that was all."
"Strongly recommended, yes; strongly recommended to give him up to you:and that you carried him off with you in your carriage."
"Well, my dear Monsieur de Baisemeaux, it was a mistake; it wasdiscovered at the ministry, so that I now bring you an order from theking to set at liberty--Seldon, that poor Scotch fellow, you know."
"Seldon! are you sure this time?"
"Well, read it yourself," added Aramis, handing him the order.
"Why," said Baisemeaux, "this order is the very same that has alreadypassed through my hands."
"Indeed?
"It is the very one I assured you I saw the other evening. Parbleu! Irecognize it by the blot of ink."
"I do not know whether it is that; but all I know is, that I bring itfor you."
"But, then, about the other?"
"What other?"
"Marchiali?"
"I have got him here with me."
"But that is not enough for me. I require a new order to take him backagain."
"Don't talk such nonsense, my dear Baisemeaux; you talk like a child!Where is the order you received respecting Marchiali?"
Baisemeaux ran to his iron chest and took it out. Aramis seized hold ofit, coolly tore it in four pieces, held them to the lamp, and burnedthem. "Good heavens! what are you doing?" exclaimed Baisemeaux, in anextremity of terror.
"Look at your position a little quietly, my dear governor," said Aramis,with his imperturbable self-possession, "and you will see how verysimple the whole affair is. You no longer possess any order justifyingMarchiali's release."
"I am a lost man!"
"Far from it, my good fellow, since I have brought Marchiali back toyou, and it is just the same as if he had never left."
"All!" said the governor, completely overcome by terror.
"Plain enough, you see; and you will go and shut him up immediately."
"I should think so, indeed."
"And you will hand over this Seldon to me, whose liberation isauthorized by this order. Do you understand?"
"I--I--"
"You do understand, I see," said Aramis. "Very good." Baisemeaux claspedhis hands together.
"But why, at all events, after having taken Marchiali away from me, doyou bring him back again?" cried the unhappy governor, in a paroxysm ofterror, and completely dumfounded.
"For a friend, such as you are," said Aramis--"for so devoted a servant,I have no secrets;" and he put his mouth close to Baisemeaux's ear, ashe said in a low tone of voice, "you know the resemblance between thatunfortunate fellow, and--"
"And the king?--yes!"
"Very good; the very first use that Marchiali made of his liberty was topersist--. Can you guess what?"
"How is it likely I should guess?"
"To persist in saying that he was the king of France; to dress himselfup in clothes like those of the king; and then pretend to assume that hewas the king himself."
"Gracious heavens!"
"That is the reason why I have brought him back again, my dear friend.He is mad, and lets every one see how mad he is."
"What is to be done, then?"
"That is very simple; let no one hold any communication with him. Youunderstand, that when his peculiar style of madness came to the king'sears, the king, who had pitied his terrible affliction, and saw how hiskindness of heart had been repaid by such black ingratitude, becameperfectly furious; so that, now--and remember this very distinctly, dearMonsieur de Baisemeaux, for it concerns you most closely--so that thereis now, I repeat, sentence of death pronounced against all those who mayallow him to communicate with any one else but me, or the king himself.You understand, Baisemeaux, sentence of death!"
"You need not ask me whether I understand."
"And now, let us go down, and conduct this poor devil back to hisdungeon again, unless you prefer he should come up here."
"What would be the good of that?"
"It would be better, perhaps, to enter his name in the
prison book atonce!"
"Of course, certainly; not a doubt of it."
"In that case, have him up."
Baisemeaux ordered the drums to be beaten, and the bell to be rung, asa warning to every one to retire, in order to avoid meeting a prisoner,about whom it was desired to observe a certain mystery. Then, when thepassages were free, he went to take the prisoner from the carriage, atwhose breast Porthos, faithful to the directions which had been givenhim, still kept his musket leveled. "Ah! is that you, miserable wretch?"cried the governor, as soon as he perceived the king. "Very good, verygood." And immediately, making the king get out of the carriage, he ledhim, still accompanied by Porthos, who had not taken off his mask, andAramis, who again resumed his, up the stairs, to the second Bertaudiere,and opened the door of the room in which Philippe for six long years hadbemoaned his existence. The king entered into the cell withoutpronouncing a single word: he was pale and haggard. Baisemeaux shut thedoor upon him, turned the key twice in the lock, and then returned toAramis. "It is quite true," he said, in a low tone, "that he has arather strong resemblance to the king; but still less so than you said."
"So that," said Aramis, "you would not have been deceived by thesubstitution of the one for the other."
"What a question!"
"You are a most valuable fellow, Baisemeaux," said Aramis; "and now, setSeldon free."
"Oh, yes. I was going to forget that. I will go and give orders atonce."
"Bah! to-morrow will be time enough."
"'To-morrow!'--oh, no. This very minute."
"Well; go off to your affairs, I shall go away to mine. But it is quiteunderstood, is it not?"
"What is quite understood?"
"That no one is to enter the prisoner's cell, except with an order fromthe king; an order which I will myself bring."
"Quite so. Adieu, monseigneur."
Aramis returned to his companion. "Now, Porthos, my good fellow, backagain to Vaux, and as fast as possible."
"A man is light and easy enough, when he has faithfully served his king;and, in serving him, saved his country," said Porthos. "The horses willbe as light as if they had nothing at all behind them. So let us beoff." And the carriage, lightened of a prisoner, who might well be--ashe in fact was--very heavy for Aramis, passed across the drawbridge ofthe Bastille, which was raised again immediately behind it.
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