The Vicomte de Bragelonne

by Alexandre Dumas

  CHAPTER XCV.

  THE KING'S FRIEND.

  Fouquet was waiting with anxiety; he had already sent away many of hisservants and his friends, who, anticipating the usual hour of hisordinary receptions, had called at his door to inquire after him.Preserving the utmost silence respecting the danger which hung suspendedover his head, he only asked them, as he did every one indeed who cameto the door, where Aramis was. When he saw D'Artagnan return, and whenhe perceived the bishop of Vannes behind him, he could hardly restrainhis delight; it was fully equal to his previous uneasiness. The meresight of Aramis was a complete compensation to the surintendant for theunhappiness he had undergone in being arrested. The prelate was silentand grave; D'Artagnan completely bewildered by such an accumulation ofevents.

  "Well, captain; so you have brought M. d'Herblay to me?"

  "And something better still, monseigneur."

  "What is that?"

  "Liberty."

  "I am free!"

  "Yes; by the king's order."

  Fouquet resumed his usual serenity, that he might interrogate Aramiswith his look.

  "Oh! yes, you can thank M. l'Eveque de Vannes," pursued D'Artagnan, "forit is indeed to him that you owe the change that has taken place in theking."

  "Oh!" said Fouquet, more humiliated at the service than grateful at itssuccess.

  "But you," continued D'Artagnan, addressing Aramis--"you, who havebecome M. Fouquet's protector and patron, can you not do something forme?"

  "Anything you like, my friend," replied the bishop, in a calm voice.

  "One thing only, then, and I shall be perfectly satisfied. How have youmanaged to become the favorite of the king, you who have never spoken tohim more than twice in your life?"

  "From a friend such as you are," said Aramis, "I cannot concealanything."

  "Ah! very good, tell me, then."

  "Very well. You think that I have seen the king only twice, while thefact is I have seen him more than a hundred times; only we have kept itvery secret, that is all." And without trying to remove the color whichat this revelation made D'Artagnan's face flush scarlet. Aramis turnedtoward M. Fouquet, who was as much surprised as the musketeer."Monseigneur," he resumed, "the king desires me to inform you that he ismore than ever your friend, and that your beautiful fete, so generouslyoffered by you on his behalf, has touched him to the very heart."

  And thereupon he saluted M. Fouquet with so much reverence of manner,that the latter, incapable of understanding a man whose diplomacy was ofso prodigious a character, remained incapable of uttering a singlesyllable, and equally incapable of thought or movement. D'Artagnanfancied he perceived that these two men had something to say to eachother, and he was about to yield to that feeling of instinctivepoliteness which in such a case hurries a man toward the door, when hefeels his presence is an inconvenience for others; but his eagercuriosity, spurred on by so many mysteries, counseled him to remain.

  Aramis thereupon turned toward him and said, in a quiet tone, "You willnot forget, my friend, the king's order respecting those whom he intendsto receive this morning on rising." These words were clear enough, andthe musketeer understood them; he therefore bowed to Fouquet, and thento Aramis--to the latter with a slight admixture of ironical respect,and disappeared.

  No sooner had he left than Fouquet, whose impatience had hardly beenable to wait for that moment, darted toward the door to close it, andthen returning to the bishop, he said, "My dear D'Herblay, I think itnow high time you should explain to me what has passed, for, in plainand honest truth, I do not understand anything."

  "We will explain all that to you," said Aramis, sitting down, and makingFouquet sit down also. "Where shall I begin?"

  "With this first of all. Why does the king set me at liberty?"

  "You ought rather to ask me what was his reason for having youarrested."

  "Since my arrest I have had time to think over it, and my idea is thatit arises out of some slight feeling of jealousy. My fete put M. Colbertout of temper, and M. Colbert discovered some cause of complaint againstme; Belle-Isle, for instance."

  "No; there is no question at all just now of Belle-Isle."

  "What is it, then?"

  "Do you remember those receipts for thirteen millions which M. deMazarin contrived to get stolen from you?"

  "Yes, of course."

  "Well, you are already pronounced to be a public robber."

  "Good heavens!"

  "Oh! that is not all. Do you also remember that letter you wrote to LaValliere?"

  "Alas! yes."

  "And that proclaims you a traitor and a suborner."

  "Why should he have pardoned me, then?"

  "We have not yet arrived at that part of our argument. I wish you to bequite convinced of the fact itself. Observe this well; the king knowsyou to be guilty of an appropriation of public funds. Oh! of course _I_know that you have done nothing of the kind; but at all events the kinghas not seen the receipts, and he cannot do otherwise than believe youcriminal."

  "I beg your pardon, I do not see--"

  "You will see presently, though. The king, moreover, having read yourlove-letter to La Valliere, and the offers you there made her, cannotretain any doubt of your intentions with regard to that young lady; youwill admit that, I suppose?"

  "Certainly; but conclude."

  "In a few words. The king is, therefore, a powerful, implacable, andeternal enemy for you."

  "Agreed. But am I, then, so powerful that he has not dared to sacrificeme, notwithstanding his hatred, with all the means which my weakness, ormy misfortunes, may have given him as a hold upon me?"

  "It is clear, beyond all doubt," pursued Aramis, coldly, "that the kinghas quarreled irreconcilably with you."

  "But, since he absolves me--"

  "Do you believe it likely?" asked the bishop, with a searching look.

  "Without believing in his sincerity of heart, I believe in the truth ofthe fact."

  Aramis slightly shrugged his shoulders.

  "But why, then, should Louis XIV. have commissioned you to tell me whatyou have just stated?"

  "The king charged me with nothing for you."

  "With nothing!" said the surintendant, stupefied. "But that order,then--"

  "Oh! yes. You are quite right. There is an order, certainly;" and thesewords were pronounced by Aramis in so strange a tone that Fouquet couldnot resist starting.

  "You are concealing something from me, I see. What is it?"

  Aramis softly rubbed his white fingers over his chin, but said nothing.

  "Does the king exile me?"

  "Do not act as if you were playing at the game children play at whenthey have to try and guess where a thing has been hidden, and areinformed by a bell being rung, when they are approaching near to it, orgoing away from it."

  "Speak, then."

  "Guess."

  "You alarm me."

  "Bah! that is because you have not guessed, then."

  "What did the king say to you? In the name of our friendship, do notdeceive me."

  "The king has not said a word to me."

  "You are killing me with impatience, D'Herblay. Am I stillsurintendant?"

  "As long as you like."

  "But what extraordinary empire have you so suddenly acquired over hismajesty's mind?"

  "Ah! that is it."

  "You make him do as you like."

  "I believe so."

  "It is hardly credible."

  "So any one would say."

  "D'Herblay, by our alliance, by our friendship, by everything you holdthe dearest in the world, speak openly, I implore you. By what meanshave you succeeded in overcoming Louis XIV.'s prejudices, for he did notlike you, I know?"

  "The king will like me _now_," said Aramis, laying a stress upon thelast word.

  "You have something particular, then, between you?"

  "Yes."

  "A secret, perhaps?"

  "Yes, a secret."

  "A secret of such a nature as
to change his majesty's interests?"

  "You are, indeed, a man of superior intelligence, monseigneur, and havemade a very accurate guess. I have, in fact, discovered a secret of anature to change the interests of the king of France."

  "Ah!" said Fouquet, with the reserve of a man who does not wish to askany questions.

  "And you shall judge of it yourself," pursued Aramis; "and you shalltell me if I am mistaken with regard to the importance of this secret."

  "I am listening, since you are good enough to unbosom yourself to me;only do not forget that I have asked you nothing which may be indiscreetin you to communicate."

  Aramis seemed for a moment as if he were collecting himself.

  "Do not speak!" said Fouquet; "there is still time enough."

  "Do you remember," said the bishop, casting down his eyes, "the birth ofLouis XIV.?"

  "As it were yesterday."

  "Have you ever heard anything particular respecting his birth?"

  "Nothing; except that the king was not really the son of Louis XIII."

  "That does not matter to us, or the kingdom either; he is the son of hisfather, says the French law, whose father is recognized by the law."

  "True; but it is a grave matter when the quality of races is called intoquestion."

  "A merely secondary question, after all. So that, in fact, you havenever learned or heard anything particular?"

  "Nothing."

  "That is where my secret begins. The queen, you must know, instead ofbeing delivered of one son, was delivered of two children."

  Fouquet looked up suddenly as he replied, "And the second is dead?"

  "You will see. These twins seemed likely to be regarded as the pride oftheir mother, and the hope of France; but the weak nature of the king,his superstitious feelings, made him apprehend a series of conflictsbetween two children whose rights were equal; so he put out of theway--he suppressed--one of the twins."

  "Suppressed, do you say?"

  "Be patient. Both the children grew up; the one on the throne, whoseminister you are--the other, who is my friend, in gloom and isolation."

  "Good heavens! What are you saying, Monsieur d'Herblay? And what is thispoor prince doing?"

  "Ask me, rather, what he has done?"

  "Yes, yes."

  "He was brought up in the country, and then thrown into a fortress whichgoes by the name of the Bastille."

  "Is it possible?" cried the surintendant, clasping his hands.

  "The one was the most fortunate of men; the other the most unhappy andmost miserable of all living beings."

  "Does his mother not know this?"

  "Anne of Austria knows it all."

  "And the king?"

  "Knows absolutely nothing."

  "So much the better!" said Fouquet.

  This remark seemed to make a great impression on Aramis; he looked atFouquet with the most anxious expression of countenance.

  "I beg your pardon; I interrupted you," said Fouquet.

  "I was saying," resumed Aramis, "that this poor prince was theunhappiest of human beings, when Heaven, whose thoughts are over all hiscreatures, undertook to come to his assistance."

  "Oh! in what way? tell me."

  "You will see. The reigning king--I say the reigning king--you can guessvery well why?"

  "No. Why?"

  "Because both of them, being legitimately entitled from their birth,ought both to have been kings. Is not that your opinion?"

  "It is, certainly."

  "Unreservedly so?"

  "Most unreservedly; twins are one person in two bodies."

  "I am pleased that a legist of your learning and authority should havepronounced such an opinion. It is agreed, then, that both of thempossessed the same rights, is it not?"

  "Incontestably so! but, gracious heavens, what an extraordinarycircumstance."

  "We are not at the end of it yet.--Patience."

  "Oh! I shall find 'patience' enough."

  "Heaven wished to raise up for that oppressed child an avenger, or asupporter, or vindicator, if you prefer it. It happened that thereigning king, the usurper--(you are quite of my opinion, I believe,that it is an act of usurpation quietly to enjoy, and selfishly toassume the right over, an inheritance to which a man has only the rightof one half?)--"

  "Yes, usurpation is the word."

  "In that case, I continue. It was Heaven's will that the usurper shouldpossess, in the person of his first minister, a man of great talent, oflarge and generous nature."

  "Well, well," said Fouquet, "I understand; you have relied upon me torepair the wrong which has been done to this unhappy brother of LouisXIV. You have thought well; I will help you. I thank you, D'Herblay, Ithank you."

  "Oh, no, it is not that at all; you have not allowed me to finish," saidAramis, perfectly unmoved.

  "I will not say another word, then."

  "M. Fouquet, I was observing, the minister of the reigning sovereign wassuddenly taken into the greatest aversion and menaced with the ruin ofhis fortune, with loss of liberty, with loss of life even, by intrigueand personal hatred, to which the king gave too readily an attentiveear. But Heaven permits (still, however, out of consideration for theunhappy prince who had been sacrificed) that M. Fouquet should in histurn have a devoted friend who knew this state secret, and felt that hepossessed strength and courage enough to divulge this secret, afterhaving had the strength to carry it locked up in his own heart fortwenty years."

  "Do not go on any farther," said Fouquet, full of generous feelings, "Iunderstand you, and can guess everything now. You went to see the kingwhen the intelligence of my arrest reached you; you implored him, herefused to listen to you; then you threatened him with that secret,threatened to reveal it, and Louis XIV., alarmed at the risk of itsbetrayal, granted to the terror of your indiscretion what he refused toyour generous intercession. I understand, I understand; you have theking in your power; I understand."

  "You understand nothing as yet," replied Aramis, "and again you haveinterrupted me. And then, too, allow me to observe that you pay noattention to logical reasoning, and seem to forget what you ought mostto remember."

  "What do you mean?"

  "You know upon what I laid the greatest stress at the beginning of ourconversation?"

  "Yes, his majesty's hate, invincible hate for me; yes, but what feelingof hate could resist the threat, of such a revelation?"

  "Such a revelation, do you say? that is the very point where your logicfails you. What! do you suppose that if I had made such a revelation tothe king I should have been alive now?"

  "It is not ten minutes ago since you were with the king?"

  "That may be. He might not have had the time to get me killed outright,but he would have had the time to get me gagged and thrown into adungeon. Come, come, show a little consistency in your reasoning,mordieu!"

  And by the mere use of this word, which was so thoroughly his oldmusketeer's expression, forgotten by one who never seemed to forgetanything, Fouquet could not but understand to what a pitch of exaltationthe calm, impenetrable bishop of Vannes had wrought himself. Heshuddered at it.

  "And then," replied the latter, after having mastered his feelings,"should I be the man I really am, should I be the true friend you regardme as, if I were to expose you, you whom the king hates already bitterlyenough, to a feeling still more than ever to be dreaded in that youngman? To have robbed him, is nothing; to have addressed the woman heloves, is not much; but to hold in your keeping both his crown and hishonor, why, he would rather pluck out your heart with his own hands."

  "You have not allowed him to penetrate your secret, then?"

  "I would sooner, far sooner, have swallowed at one draught all thepoisons that Mithridates drank in twenty years, in order to try andavoid death, than have betrayed my secret to the king."

  "What have you done, then?"

  "Ah! now we are coming to the point, monseigneur. I think I shall notfail to excite a little interest in you. You are listening, I ho
pe?"

  "How can you ask me if I am listening? Go on."

  Aramis walked softly all round the room, satisfied himself that theywere alone, and that all was silent, and then returned and placedhimself close to the armchair in which Fouquet was seated, awaiting withthe deepest anxiety the revelations he had to make.

  "I forgot to tell you," resumed Aramis, addressing himself to Fouquet,who listened to him with the most absorbed attention--"I forgot tomention a most remarkable circumstance respecting these twins, namely,that God had formed them so startlingly, so miraculously, like eachother, that it would be utterly impossible to distinguish the one fromthe other. Their own mother would not be able to distinguish them."

  "Is it possible?" exclaimed Fouquet.

  "The same noble character in their features, the same carriage, the samestature, the same voice."

  "But their thoughts? degree of intelligence; their knowledge of humanlife?"

  "There is inequality there, I admit, monseigneur. Yes; for the prisonerof the Bastille is, most incontestable, superior in every way to hisbrother; and if, from his prison, this unhappy victim were to pass tothe throne, France would not, from the earliest period of its history,perhaps, have had a master more powerful by his genius and truenobleness of character."

  Fouquet buried his face in his hands, as if he were overwhelmed by theweight of this immense secret. Aramis approached him.

  "There is a further inequality," he said, continuing his work oftemptation, "an inequality which concerns yourself, monseigneur, betweenthe twins, both sons of Louis XIII., namely, the last comer does notknow M. Colbert."

  Fouquet raised his head immediately--his features were pale anddistorted. The bolt had hit its mark--not his heart, but his mind andcomprehension.

  "I understand you," he said to Aramis; "you are proposing a conspiracyto me?"

  "Something like it."

  "One of those attempts, which, as you said at the beginning of thisconversation, alters the fate of empires?"

  "And of the surintendant too; yes, monseigneur."

  "In a word, you propose that I should agree to the substitution of theson of Louis XIII., who is now a prisoner in the Bastille, for the sonof Louis XIII., who is now at this moment asleep in the Chamber ofMorpheus?"

  Aramis smiled with the sinister expression of the sinister thought whichwas passing through his brain. "Exactly," he said.

  "Have you thought," Fouquet then continued, becoming animated with thatstrength of talent which in a few seconds originates and matures theconception of a plan, and with that largeness of view which foresees allits consequences, and embraces all its results at a glance--"have youthought that we must assemble the nobility, the clergy, and the thirdestate of the realm; that we shall have to depose the reigningsovereign, to disturb by so frightful a scandal the tomb of their deadfather, to sacrifice the life, the honor of a woman, Anne of Austria,the life and peace of mind and heart of another woman, Maria Theresa;and suppose that all were done, if we were to succeed in doing it--"

  "I do not understand you," continued Aramis coldly. "There is not asingle word of the slightest use in what you have just said."

  "What!" said the surintendant, surprised, "a man like you refuse to viewthe practical bearings of the case. Do you confine yourself to thechildish delight of a political illusion, and neglect the chances of itsbeing carried into execution; in other words, the reality itself, is itpossible?"

  "My friend," said Aramis, emphasizing the word with a kind of disdainfulfamiliarity, "what does Heaven do in order to substitute one king foranother?"

  "Heaven!" exclaimed Fouquet--"Heaven gives directions to its agent, whoseizes upon the doomed victim, hurries him away, and seats thetriumphant rival on the empty throne. But you forget that this agent iscalled death. Oh! Monsieur d'Herblay, in Heaven's name, tell me, if youhave had the idea--"

  "There is no question of that, monseigneur; you are going beyond theobject in view. Who spoke of Louis XIV.'s death? who spoke of adoptingthe example which Heaven sets in following out the strict execution ofits decrees? No, I wish you to understand that Heaven effects itspurposes without confusion or disturbance, without exciting comment orremark, without difficulty or exertion; and that men inspired byHeaven--succeed like Heaven itself in all their undertakings, in allthey attempt, in all they do."

  "What do you mean?"

  "I mean, my _friend_," returned Aramis, with the same intonation on theword friend that he had applied to it the first time--"I mean that ifthere has been any confusion, scandal, and even effort in thesubstitution of the prisoner for the king, I defy you to prove it."

  "What!" cried Fouquet, whiter than the handkerchief with which he wipedhis temples, "what do you say?"

  "Go to the king's apartment," continued Aramis, tranquilly, "and you whoknow the mystery, I defy even you to perceive that the prisoner of theBastille is lying in his brother's bed."

  "But the king?" stammered Fouquet, seized with horror at theintelligence.

  "What king?" said Aramis, in his gentlest tone; "the one who hates you,or the one who likes you?"

  "The king--of yesterday?"

  "The king of yesterday! be quite easy on that score; he has gone to takethe place in the Bastille which his victim has occupied for such a longtime past."

  "Great God! And who took him there?"

  "I!"

  "You?"

  "Yes; and in the simplest way. I carried him away last night; and whilehe was descending into gloom, the other was ascending into light. I donot think there has been any disturbance created in any way. A flash oflightning without thunder never awakens any one."

  Fouquet uttered a thick, smothered cry, as if he had been struck by someinvisible blow, and clasping his head between his clenched hands, hemurmured: "You did that?"

  "Cleverly enough, too; what do you think of it?"

  "You dethroned the king? imprisoned him, too?"

  "Yes, that has been done."

  "And such an action has been committed here at Vaux?"

  "Yes, here, at Vaux, in the Chamber of Morpheus. It would almost seemthat it had been built in anticipation of such an act."

  "And at what time did it occur?"

  "Last night, between twelve and one o'clock."

  Fouquet made a movement, as if he were on the point of springing uponAramis; he restrained himself. "At Vaux; under my roof!" he said, in ahalf-strangled voice.

  "I believe so! for it is still your house, and is likely to continue so,since M. Colbert cannot rob you of it now."

  "It was under my roof, then, monsieur, that you committed this crime?"

  "This crime!" said Aramis, stupefied.

  "This abominable crime!" pursued Fouquet, becoming more and moreexcited; "this crime more execrable than an assassination! this crimewhich dishonors my name forever, and entails upon me the horror ofposterity."

  "You are not in your senses, monsieur," replied Aramis, in an irresolutetone of voice; "you are speaking too loudly; take care!"

  "I will call out so loudly, that the whole world shall hear me."

  "Monsieur Fouquet, take care!"

  Fouquet turned round toward the prelate, whom he looked at full in theface. "You have dishonored me," he said, "in committing so foul an actof treason, so heinous a crime upon my guest, upon one who waspeacefully reposing beneath my roof. Oh! woe, woe, is me!"

  "Woe to the man, rather, who beneath your roof meditated the ruin ofyour fortune, your life. Do you forget that?"

  "He was my guest, my sovereign."

  Aramis rose, his eyes literally bloodshot, his mouth tremblingconvulsively.

  "Have I a man out of his senses to deal with?" he said.

  "You have an honorable man to deal with."

  "You are mad."

  "A man who will prevent you consummating your crime."

  "You are mad, I say."

  "A man who would sooner, oh! far sooner die; who would kill you even,rather than allow you to complete his dishonor."


  And Fouquet snatched up his sword, which D'Artagnan had placed at thehead of his bed, and clenched it resolutely in his hand. Aramis frowned,and thrust his hand into his breast, as if in search of a weapon. Thismovement did not escape Fouquet, who, full of nobleness and pride in hismagnanimity, threw his sword to a distance from him, and approachedAramis so close as to touch his shoulder with his disarmed hand."Monsieur," he said, "I would sooner die here on the spot than survivethis terrible disgrace; and if you have any pity left for me I entreatyou to take my life."

  Aramis remained silent and motionless.

  "You do not reply?" said Fouquet.

  Aramis raised his head gently, and a glimmer of hope might be seen oncemore to animate his eyes. "Reflect, monseigneur," he said, "uponeverything we have to expect. As the matter now stands, the king isstill alive, and his imprisonment saves your life."

  "Yes," replied Fouquet, "you may have been acting on my behalf, but Iwill not, do not, accept your services. But, first of all, I do not wishyour ruin. You will leave this house."

  Aramis stifled the exclamation which almost escaped his broken heart.

  "I am hospitable toward all who are dwellers beneath my roof," continuedFouquet, with an air of inexpressible majesty; "you will not be morefatally lost than he whose ruin you have consummated."

  "You will be so," said Aramis, in a hoarse, prophetic voice, "you willbe so, believe me."

  "I accept the augury, Monsieur d'Herblay; but nothing shall prevent me,nothing shall stop me. You will leave Vaux--you must leave France; Igive you four hours to place yourself out of the king's reach."

  "Four hours?" said Aramis, scornfully and incredulously.

  "Upon the word of Fouquet, no one shall follow you before the expirationof that time. You will therefore have four hours' advance of those whomthe king may wish to dispatch after you."

  "Four hours!" repeated Aramis, in a thick smothered voice.

  "It is more than you will need to get on board a vessel and flee toBelle-Isle, which I give you as a place of refuge."

  "Ah!" murmured Aramis.

  "Belle-Isle is as much mine for you as Vaux is mine for the king. Go,D'Herblay, go! as long as I live, not a hair of your head shall beinjured."

  "Thank you," said Aramis, with a cold irony of manner.

  "Go at once, then, and give me your hand, before we both hasten away;you to save your life, I to save my honor."

  Aramis withdrew from his breast the hand he had concealed there; it wasstained with his blood. He had dug his nails into his flesh, as if inpunishment for having nursed so many projects, more vain, insensate,and fleeting than the life of man himself. Fouquet was horror-stricken,and then his heart smote him with pity. He threw open his arms as if toembrace him.

  "I had no arms," murmured Aramis, as wild and terrible in his wrath asthe shade of Dido. And then, without touching Fouquet's hand, he turnedhis head aside, and stepped back a pace or two. His last word was animprecation, his last gesture a curse, which his bloodstained handseemed to invoke, as it sprinkled on Fouquet's face a few drops of bloodwhich flowed from his breast. And both of them darted out of the room bythe secret staircase which led down to the inner courtyard. Fouquetordered his best horses, while Aramis paused at the foot of thestaircase which led to Porthos' apartment. He reflected profoundly andfor some time, while Fouquet's carriage left the stone-paved courtyardat full gallop.

  "Shall I go alone," said Aramis to himself, "or warn the prince? Oh!fury! Warn the prince, and then--do what? Take him with me? To carrythis accusing witness about with me everywhere? War, too, wouldfollow--civil war, implacable in its nature! And without any resourcesave myself--it is impossible! What could he do without me? Oh! withoutme he would be utterly destroyed. Yet who knows--let destiny befulfilled--condemned he was, let him remain so then! Good or evilspirit--gloomy and scornful power, whom men call the Genius of man, thouart a power more restlessly uncertain, more baselessly useless, than thewild wind in the mountains; Chance thou term'st thyself, but thou artnothing; thou inflamest everything with thy breath, crumblest mountainsat thy approach, and suddenly art thyself destroyed at the presence ofthe Cross of dead wood, behind which stands another Power invisible likethyself--whom thou deniest, perhaps, but whose avenging hand is on thee,and hurls thee in the dust dishonored and unnamed! Lost! I am lost! Whatcan be done? Flee to Belle-Isle? Yes, and leave Porthos behind me, totalk and relate the whole affair to every one! Porthos, too, who willhave to suffer for what he has done. I will not let poor Porthos suffer.He seems like one of the members of my own frame; and his grief ormisfortune would be mine as well. Porthos shall leave with me, and shallfollow my destiny. It must be so."

  And Aramis, apprehensive of meeting any one to whom his hurriedmovements might appear suspicious ascended the staircase without beingperceived. Porthos, so recently returned from Paris, was already in aprofound sleep; his huge body forgot its fatigue, as his mind forgot itsthoughts. Aramis entered, light as a shadow, and placed his nervousgrasp on the giant's shoulder. "Come, Porthos," he cried, "come."

  Porthos obeyed, rose from his bed, opened his eyes, even before hisintelligence seemed to be aroused.

  "We are going off," said Aramis.

  "Ah!" returned Porthos.

  "We shall go mounted, and faster than we have ever gone in our lives."

  "Ah!" repeated Porthos.

  "Dress yourself, my friend."

  And he helped the giant to dress himself and thrust his gold anddiamonds into his pocket. While he was thus engaged, a slight noiseattracted his attention, and on looking up, he saw D'Artagnan watchingthem through the half-opened door. Aramis started.

  "What the devil are you doing there in such an agitated manner?" saidthe musketeer.

  "Hush!" said Porthos. "We are going off on a mission of greatimportance," added the bishop.

  "You are very fortunate," said the musketeer.

  "Oh, dear me!" said Porthos, "I feel so wearied; I would far sooner havebeen fast asleep. But the service of the king...."

  "Have you seen M. Fouquet?" said Aramis to D'Artagnan.

  "Yes; this very minute, in a carriage."

  "What did he say to you?"

  "'Adieu;' nothing more."

  "Was that all?"

  "What else do you think he could say? Am I worth anything now since youhave all got into such high favor?"

  "Listen," said Aramis, embracing the musketeer; "your good times arereturning again. You will have no occasion to be jealous of any one."

  "Ah! bah!"

  "I predict that something will happen to you to-day which will increaseyour importance more than ever."

  "Really?"

  "You know that I know all the news?"

  "Oh, yes!"

  "Come, Porthos, are you ready? Let us go."

  "I am quite ready, Aramis."

  "Let us embrace D'Artagnan first."

  "Most certainly."

  "But the horses?"

  "Oh! there is no want of them here. Will you have mine?"

  "No; Porthos has his own stud. So adieu! adieu!"

  The two fugitives mounted their horses beneath the captain of themusketeer's eyes, who held Porthos' stirrup for him, and gazed afterthem until they were out of sight.

  "On any other occasion," thought the Gascon, "I should say that thosegentlemen are making their escape; but in these days politics seem sochanged that that is what is termed going on a mission. I have noobjection; let me attend to my own affairs, that is quite enough;" andhe philosophically entered his apartments.