CHAPTER XCVI.
SHOWING HOW THE COUNTERSIGN WAS RESPECTED AT THE BASTILLE.
Fouquet tore along as fast as his horses could drag him. On the way hetrembled with horror at the idea of what had just been revealed to him.
"What must have been," he thought, "the youth of those extraordinarymen, who, even as age is stealing fast upon them, still are able toconceive such plans and can carry them out without flinching?"
At one moment he could not resist the idea that all that Aramis had justbeen recounting to him was nothing more than a dream, and whether thefable itself was not the snare; so that when Fouquet arrived at theBastille, he might possibly find an order of arrest, which would sendhim to join the dethroned king. Strongly impressed with this idea, hegave certain sealed orders on his route, while fresh horses were beingharnessed to his carriage. These orders were addressed to M. d'Artagnan,and to certain others whose fidelity to the king was far abovesuspicion.
"In this way," said Fouquet to himself, "prisoner or not, I shall haveperformed the duty which I owe to my honor. The orders will not reachthem until after my return, if I should return free, and consequentlythey will not have been unsealed. I shall take them back again. If I amdelayed, it will be because some misfortune will have befallen me; andin that case assistance will be sent for me as well as for the king."
Prepared in this manner, the surintendant arrived at the Bastille; hehad traveled at the rate of five leagues and a half the hour. Everycircumstance of delay which Aramis had escaped in his visit to theBastille befell Fouquet. It was useless his giving his name, equallyuseless his being recognized; he could not succeed in obtaining anentrance. By dint of entreaties, threats, commands, he succeeded ininducing a sentinel to speak to one of the subalterns, who went and toldthe major. As for the governor, they did not even dare to disturb him.Fouquet sat in his carriage, at the outer gate of the fortress, chafingwith rage and impatience, awaiting the return of the officers, who atlast reappeared with a sufficiently sulky air.
"Well," said Fouquet, impatiently, "what did the major say?"
"Well, monsieur," replied the soldier, "the major laughed in my face.He told me that M. Fouquet was at Vaux, and that even were he at Paris,M. Fouquet would not get up at so early an hour as the present."
"Mordieu! You are a perfect set of fools," cried the minister, dartingout of the carriage; and before the subaltern had had time to shut thegate Fouquet sprang through it, and ran forward in spite of the soldier,who cried out for assistance. Fouquet gained ground, regardless of thecries of the man, who, however, having at last come up with Fouquet,called out to the sentinel of the second gate, "Look out, look out,sentinel!" The man crossed his pike before the minister; but the latter,robust and active, and hurried away, too, by his passion, wrested thepike from the soldier and struck him a violent blow on the shoulder withit. The subaltern, who approached too closely, received his part of theblows as well. Both of them uttered loud and furious cries, at the soundof which the whole of the first body of the advanced guard poured out ofthe guard-house. Among them there was one, however, who recognized thesurintendant, and who called out, "Monseigneur, ah! monseigneur. Stop,stop, you fellows!" And he effectually checked the soldiers, who were onthe point of revenging their companions. Fouquet desired them to openthe gate; but they refused to do so without the countersign; he desiredthem to inform the governor of his presence; but the latter had alreadyheard the disturbance at the gate. He ran forward, followed by hismajor, and accompanied by a picket of twenty men, persuaded that anattack was being made on the Bastille. Baisemeaux also recognizedFouquet immediately, and dropped his sword, which he had heldbrandishing about in his hand.
"Ah! monseigneur," he stammered, "how can I excuse--"
"Monsieur," said the surintendant, flushed with anger, and heated by hisexertions, "I congratulate you. Your watch and ward are admirably kept."
Baisemeaux turned pale, thinking that this remark was said ironically,and portended a furious burst of anger. But Fouquet had recovered hisbreath, and, beckoning the sentinel and the subaltern, who were rubbingtheir shoulders, toward him, he said, "There are twenty pistoles for thesentinel, and fifty for the officer. Pray receive my compliments,gentlemen. I will not fail to speak to his majesty about you. And now,M. Baisemeaux, a word with you."
And he followed the governor to his official residence, accompanied by amurmur of general satisfaction. Baisemeaux was already trembling withshame and uneasiness. Aramis' early visit, from that moment, seemed topossess consequences which a functionary such as he (Baisemeaux) was,was perfectly justified in apprehending. It was quite another thing,however, when Fouquet, in a sharp tone of voice, and with an imperiouslook, said, "You have seen M. d'Herblay this morning?"
"Yes, monseigneur."
"And are you not horrified at the crime of which you have made yourselfan accomplice?"
"Well," thought Baisemeaux, "good so far;" and then he added aloud, "Butwhat crime, monseigneur, do you allude to?"
"That for which you can be quartered alive, monsieur--do not forgetthat! But this is not a time to show anger. Conduct me immediately tothe prisoner."
"To what prisoner?" said Baisemeaux, tremblingly.
"You pretend to be ignorant? Very good--it is the best thing for youperhaps, to do; for if, in fact, you were to admit your participation init, it would be all over with you. I wish, therefore, to seem to believein your assumption of ignorance."
"I entreat you, monseigneur--"
"That will do. Lead me to the prisoner."
"To Marchiali?"
"Who is Marchiali?"
"The prisoner who was brought back this morning by M. d'Herblay."
"He is called Marchiali," said the surintendant, his convictionsomewhat shaken by Baisemeaux's cool manner.
"Yes, monseigneur; that is the name under which he was inscribed here."
Fouquet looked steadily at Baisemeaux, as if he would read his veryheart; and perceived, with that clear-sightedness which men possess whoare accustomed to the exercise of power, that the man was speaking withthe most perfect sincerity. Besides, in observing his face for a fewmoments, he could not believe that Aramis would have chosen such aconfidant.
"It is the prisoner," said the surintendant to him, "whom M. d'Herblaycarried away the day before yesterday?"
"Yes, monseigneur."
"And whom he brought back this morning?" added Fouquet, quickly; for heunderstood immediately the mechanism of Aramis' plan.
"Precisely, monseigneur."
"And his name is Marchiali, you say?"
"Yes, Marchiali. If monseigneur has come here to remove him, so much thebetter, for I was going to write about him."
"What has he done, then?"
"Ever since this morning he has annoyed me extremely. He has had suchterrible fits of passion as almost to make me believe that he wouldbring the Bastille itself down about our ears."
"I will soon relieve you of his presence," said Fouquet.
"Ah! so much the better."
"Conduct me to his prison."
"Will monseigneur give me the order?"
"What order?"
"An order from the king."
"Wait until I sign you one."
"That will not be sufficient, monseigneur. I must have an order from theking."
Fouquet assumed an irritated expression. "As you are so scrupulous," hesaid, "with regard to allowing prisoners to leave, show me the order bywhich this one was set at liberty." Baisemeaux showed him the order torelease Seldon.
"Very good," said Fouquet; "but Seldon is not Marchiali."
"But Marchiali is not at liberty, monseigneur he is here."
"But you said that M. d'Herblay carried him away and brought him backagain."
"I did not say so."
"So surely did you say it, that I almost seem to hear it now."
"It was a slip of my tongue, then, monseigneur."
"Take care, M. de Baisemeaux, take care."
"I h
ave nothing to fear, monseigneur; I am acting according to strictregulation."
"Do you dare to say so?"
"I would say so in the presence of an apostle himself. M. d'Herblaybrought me an order to set Seldon at liberty; and Seldon is free."
"I tell you that Marchiali has left the Bastille."
"You must prove that, monseigneur."
"Let me see him."
"You, monseigneur, who govern this kingdom, know very well that no onecan see any of the prisoners without an express order from the king."
"M. d'Herblay has entered, however."
"That is to be proved, monseigneur."
"M. de Baisemeaux, once more I warn you to pay particular attention towhat you are saying."
"All the documents are there, monseigneur."
"M. d'Herblay is overthrown."
"Overthrown?--M. d'Herblay! Impossible!"
"You see that he has undoubtedly influenced you."
"No, monseigneur; what does, in fact, influence me, is the king'sservice. I am doing my duty. Give me an order from him, and you shallenter."
"Stay, M. le Gouverneur, I give you my word that if you allow me to seethe prisoner, I will give you an order from the king at once."
"Give it me now, monseigneur."
"And that, if you refuse me, I will have you and all your officersarrested on the spot."
"Before you commit such an act of violence, monseigneur, you willreflect," said Baisemeaux, who had turned very pale, "that we will onlyobey an order signed by the king; and that it will be just as easy foryou to obtain one to see Marchiali as to obtain one to do me so muchinjury; me, too, who am perfectly innocent."
"True, true!" cried Fouquet, furiously; "perfectly true. M. deBaisemeaux," he added, in a sonorous voice, drawing the unhappy governortoward him, "do you know why I am so anxious to speak to the prisoner?"
"No, monseigneur; and allow me to observe that you are terrifying me outof my senses; I am trembling all over, and feel as if I were going tofaint."
"You will stand a better chance of fainting outright, M. Baisemeaux,when I return here at the head of ten thousand men and thirty pieces ofcannon."
"Good heavens, monseigneur, you are losing your senses."
"When I have roused the whole population of Paris against you and yourcursed towers, and have battered open the gates of this place, andhanged you up to the bars of that tower in the corner there."
"Monseigneur! monseigneur! for pity's sake."
"I give you ten minutes to make up your mind," added Fouquet, in a calmvoice. "I will sit down here in this armchair and wait for you; if, inten minutes' time, you still persist, I leave this place, and you maythink me as mad as you like; but you will see!"
Baisemeaux stamped his foot on the ground like a man in a state ofdespair, but he did not reply a single syllable: whereupon Fouquetseized a pen and ink, and wrote:
"Order for M. le Prevot des Marchands to assemble the municipal guardand to march upon the Bastille for the king's service."
Baisemeaux shrugged his shoulders. Fouquet wrote:
"Order for the Duc de Bouillon and M. le Prince de Conde to assume thecommand of the Swiss guards, of the king's guards, and to march upon theBastille for the king's service."
Baisemeaux reflected. Fouquet still wrote:
"Order for every soldier, citizen, or gentleman to seize and apprehend,wherever he may be found, le Chevalier d'Herblay, Eveque de Vannes, andhis accomplices, who are: 1st, M. de Baisemeaux, governor of theBastille, suspected of the crimes of high treason and rebellion--"
"Stop, monseigneur!" cried Baisemeaux; "I do not understand a singlething of the whole matter; but so many misfortunes, even were it madnessitself that had set them at work, might happen here in a couple ofhours, that the king, by whom I shall be judged, will see whether I havebeen wrong in withdrawing the countersign before so many imminentcatastrophes. Come with me to the keep, monseigneur; you shall seeMarchiali."
Fouquet darted out of the room, followed by Baisemeaux as he wiped theperspiration from his face. "What a terrible morning!" he said; "what adisgrace!"
"Walk faster," replied Fouquet.
Baisemeaux made a sign to the jailer to precede them. He was afraid ofhis companion, which the latter could not fail to perceive.
"A truce to this child's play," he said, roughly. "Let the man remainhere, take the keys yourself, and show me the way. Not a single person,do you understand, must hear what is going to take place here."
"Ah!" said Baisemeaux, undecided.
"Again," cried Fouquet. "Ah! say 'no' at once, and I will leave theBastille and will myself carry my own dispatches."
Baisemeaux bowed his head, took the keys, and unaccompanied, except bythe minister, ascended the staircase. The higher they advanced up thespiral staircase, certain smothered murmurs became distinct cries andfearful imprecations. "What is that?" asked Fouquet.
"That is your Marchiali," said the governor; "that is the way thesemadmen call out."
And he accompanied that reply with a glance more indicative of injuriousillusions, as far as Fouquet was concerned, than of politeness. Thelatter trembled; he had just recognized in one cry, more terrible thanany that had preceded it, the king's voice. He paused on the staircase,snatching the bunch of keys from Baisemeaux, who thought this new madmanwas going to dash out his brains with one of them. "Ah!" he cried, "M.d'Herblay did not say a word about that."
"Give me the keys at once!" cried Fouquet, tearing them from his hand."Which is the key of the door I am to open."
"That one."
A fearful cry, followed by a violent blow against the door, made thewhole staircase resound with the echo. "Leave this place," said Fouquetto Baisemeaux, in a threatening voice.
"I ask nothing better," murmured the latter, "there will be a couple ofmadmen face to face, and the one will kill the other, I am sure."
"Go!" repeated Fouquet. "If you place your foot in this staircase beforeI call you, remember that you shall take the place of the meanestprisoner in the Bastille."
"This job will kill me, I am sure it will," muttered Baisemeaux, as hewithdrew with tottering steps.
The prisoner's cries became more and more terrible. When Fouquet hadsatisfied himself that Baisemeaux had reached the bottom of thestaircase, he inserted the key in the first lock. It was then that heheard the hoarse, choking voice of the king, crying out, in a frenzy ofrage, "Help, help! I am the king." The key of the second door was notthe same as the first, and Fouquet was obliged to look for it on thebunch. The king, however, furious and almost mad with rage and passion,shouted at the top of his voice, "It was M. Fouquet who brought me here.Help me against M. Fouquet! I am the king! Help the king against M.Fouquet!"
These cries tore the minister's heart with mingled emotions. They werefollowed by a shower of terrible blows leveled against the door with apart of the broken chair with which the king had armed himself. Fouquetat last succeeded in finding the key. The king was almost exhausted; hecould hardly articulate distinctly as he shouted, "Death to Fouquet!death to the traitor Fouquet!" The door flew open.
The Vicomte de Bragelonne Page 97