Chapter XIX. The Shadow of M. Fouquet.
D'Artagnan, still confused and oppressed by the conversation he had justhad with the king, could not resist asking himself if he were really inpossession of his senses, if he were really and truly at Vaux; if he,D'Artagnan, were really the captain of the musketeers, and M. Fouquetthe owner of the chateau in which Louis XIV. was at that momentpartaking of his hospitality. These reflections were not those of adrunken man, although everything was in prodigal profusion at Vaux, andthe surintendant's wines had met with a distinguished reception at the_fete_. The Gascon, however, was a man of calm self-possession; and nosooner did he touch his bright steel blade, than he knew how to adoptmorally the cold, keen weapon as his guide of action.
"Well," he said, as he quitted the royal apartment, "I seem now tobe mixed up historically with the destinies of the king and of theminister; it will be written, that M. d'Artagnan, a younger son of aGascon family, placed his hand on the shoulder of M. Nicolas Fouquet,the surintendant of the finances of France. My descendants, if I haveany, will flatter themselves with the distinction which this arrestwill confer, just as the members of the De Luynes family have done withregard to the estates of the poor Marechal d'Ancre. But the thing is,how best to execute the king's directions in a proper manner. Any manwould know how to say to M. Fouquet, 'Your sword, monsieur.' But itis not every one who would be able to take care of M. Fouquet withoutothers knowing anything about it. How am I to manage, then, so that M.le surintendant pass from the height of favor to the direst disgrace;that Vaux be turned into a dungeon for him; that after having beensteeped to his lips, as it were, in all the perfumes and incense ofAhasuerus, he is transferred to the gallows of Haman; in other words, ofEnguerrand de Marigny?" And at this reflection, D'Artagnan's brow becameclouded with perplexity. The musketeer had certain scruples on thematter, it must be admitted. To deliver up to death (for not a doubtexisted that Louis hated Fouquet mortally) the man who had just shownhimself so delightful and charming a host in every way, was a realinsult to one's conscience. "It almost seems," said D'Artagnan tohimself, "that if I am not a poor, mean, miserable fellow, I should letM. Fouquet know the opinion the king has about him. Yet, if I betraymy master's secret, I shall be a false-hearted, treacherous knave, atraitor, too, a crime provided for and punishable by military laws--somuch so, indeed, that twenty times, in former days when wars were rife,I have seen many a miserable fellow strung up to a tree for doing, inbut a small degree, what my scruples counsel me to undertake upon agreat scale now. No, I think that a man of true readiness of wit oughtto get out of this difficulty with more skill than that. And now, letus admit that I do possess a little readiness of invention; it is not atall certain, though, for, after having for forty years absorbed solarge a quantity, I shall be lucky if there were to be a pistole's-worthleft." D'Artagnan buried his head in his hands, tore at his mustachein sheer vexation, and added, "What can be the reason of M. Fouquet'sdisgrace? There seem to be three good ones: the first, because M.Colbert doesn't like him; the second, because he wished to fall in lovewith Mademoiselle de la Valliere; and lastly, because the king likes M.Colbert and loves Mademoiselle de la Valliere. Oh! he is lost! But shallI put my foot on his neck, I, of all men, when he is falling a preyto the intrigues of a pack of women and clerks? For shame! If hebe dangerous, I will lay him low enough; if, however, he beonly persecuted, I will look on. I have come to such a decisivedetermination, that neither king nor living man shall change my mind.If Athos were here, he would do as I have done. Therefore, instead ofgoing, in cold blood, up to M. Fouquet, and arresting him off-hand andshutting him up altogether, I will try and conduct myself like a man whounderstands what good manners are. People will talk about it, of course;but they shall talk well of it, I am determined." And D'Artagnan,drawing by a gesture peculiar to himself his shoulder-belt over hisshoulder, went straight off to M. Fouquet, who, after he had takenleave of his guests, was preparing to retire for the night and to sleeptranquilly after the triumphs of the day. The air was still perfumed,or infected, whichever way it may be considered, with the odors ofthe torches and the fireworks. The wax-lights were dying away in theirsockets, the flowers fell unfastened from the garlands, the groups ofdancers and courtiers were separating in the salons. Surrounded by hisfriends, who complimented him and received his flattering remarks inreturn, the surintendant half-closed his wearied eyes. He longed forrest and quiet; he sank upon the bed of laurels which had been heapedup for him for so many days past; it might almost have been said that heseemed bowed beneath the weight of the new debts which he had incurredfor the purpose of giving the greatest possible honor to this _fete_.Fouquet had just retired to his room, still smiling, but more thanhalf-asleep. He could listen to nothing more, he could hardly keep hiseyes open; his bed seemed to possess a fascinating and irresistibleattraction for him. The god Morpheus, the presiding deity of the domepainted by Lebrun, had extended his influence over the adjoining rooms,and showered down his most sleep-inducing poppies upon the master of thehouse. Fouquet, almost entirely alone, was being assisted by his _valetde chambre_ to undress, when M. d'Artagnan appeared at the entrance ofthe room. D'Artagnan had never been able to succeed in making himselfcommon at the court; and notwithstanding he was seen everywhere andon all occasions, he never failed to produce an effect wherever andwhenever he made his appearance. Such is the happy privilege of certainnatures, which in that respect resemble either thunder or lightning;every one recognizes them; but their appearance never fails to arousesurprise and astonishment, and whenever they occur, the impression isalways left that the last was the most conspicuous or most important.
"What! M. d'Artagnan?" said Fouquet, who had already taken his right armout of the sleeve of his doublet.
"At your service," replied the musketeer.
"Come in, my dear M. d'Artagnan."
"Thank you."
"Have you come to criticise the _fete?_ You are ingenious enough in yourcriticisms, I know."
"By no means."
"Are not your men looked after properly?"
"In every way."
"You are not comfortably lodged, perhaps?"
"Nothing could be better."
"In that case, I have to thank you for being so amiably disposed, and Imust not fail to express my obligations to you for all your flatteringkindness."
These words were as much as to say, "My dear D'Artagnan, pray go to bed,since you have a bed to lie down on, and let me do the same."
D'Artagnan did not seem to understand it.
"Are you going to bed already?" he said to the superintendent.
"Yes; have you anything to say to me?"
"Nothing, monsieur, nothing at all. You sleep in this room, then?"
"Yes; as you see."
"You have given a most charming _fete_ to the king."
"Do you think so?"
"Oh! beautiful!"
"Is the king pleased?"
"Enchanted."
"Did he desire you to say as much to me?"
"He would not choose so unworthy a messenger, monseigneur."
"You do not do yourself justice, Monsieur d'Artagnan."
"Is that your bed, there?"
"Yes; but why do you ask? Are you not satisfied with your own?"
"My I speak frankly to you?"
"Most assuredly."
"Well, then, I am not."
Fouquet started; and then replied, "Will you take my room, Monsieurd'Artagnan?"
"What! deprive you of it, monseigneur? never!"
"What am I to do, then?"
"Allow me to share yours with you."
Fouquet looked at the musketeer fixedly. "Ah! ah!" he said, "you havejust left the king."
"I have, monseigneur."
"And the king wishes you to pass the night in my room?"
"Monseigneur--"
"Very well, Monsieur d'Artagnan, very well. You are the master here."
"I assure you, monseigneur, that I do not wish to abuse--"
&nbs
p; Fouquet turned to his valet, and said, "Leave us." When the man hadleft, he said to D'Artagnan, "You have something to say to me?"
"I?"
"A man of your superior intelligence cannot have come to talk with a manlike myself, at such an hour as the present, without grave motives."
"Do not interrogate me."
"On the contrary. What do you want with me?"
"Nothing more than the pleasure of your society."
"Come into the garden, then," said the superintendent suddenly, "or intothe park."
"No," replied the musketeer, hastily, "no."
"Why?"
"The fresh air--"
"Come, admit at once that you arrest me," said the superintendent to thecaptain.
"Never!" said the latter.
"You intend to look after me, then?"
"Yes, monseigneur, I do, upon my honor."
"Upon your honor--ah! that is quite another thing! So I am to bearrested in my own house."
"Do not say such a thing."
"On the contrary, I will proclaim it aloud."
"If you do so, I shall be compelled to request you to be silent."
"Very good! Violence towards me, and in my own house, too."
"We do not seem to understand one another at all. Stay a moment; thereis a chess-board there; we will have a game, if you have no objections."
"Monsieur d'Artagnan, I am in disgrace, then?"
"Not at all; but--"
"I am prohibited, I suppose, from withdrawing from your sight."
"I do not understand a word you are saying, monseigneur; and if you wishme to withdraw, tell me so."
"My dear Monsieur d'Artagnan, your mode of action is enough to driveme mad; I was almost sinking for want of sleep, but you have completelyawakened me."
"I shall never forgive myself, I am sure; and if you wish to reconcileme with myself, why, go to sleep in your bed in my presence; and I shallbe delighted."
"I am under surveillance, I see."
"I will leave the room if you say any such thing."
"You are beyond my comprehension."
"Good night, monseigneur," said D'Artagnan, as he pretended to withdraw.
Fouquet ran after him. "I will not lie down," he said. "Seriously, andsince you refuse to treat me as a man, and since you finesse with me, Iwill try and set you at bay, as a hunter does a wild boar."
"Bah!" cried D'Artagnan, pretending to smile.
"I shall order my horses, and set off for Paris," said Fouquet, soundingthe captain of the musketeers.
"If that be the case, monseigneur, it is very difficult."
"You will arrest me, then?"
"No, but I shall go along with you."
"That is quite sufficient, Monsieur d'Artagnan," returned Fouquet,coldly. "It was not for nothing you acquired your reputation as a manof intelligence and resource; but with me all this is quite superfluous.Let us come to the point. Do me a service. Why do you arrest me? Whathave I done?"
"Oh! I know nothing about what you may have done; but I do not arrestyou--this evening, at least!"
"This evening!" said Fouquet, turning pale, "but to-morrow?"
"It is not to-morrow just yet, monseigneur. Who can ever answer for themorrow?"
"Quick, quick, captain! let me speak to M. d'Herblay."
"Alas! that is quite impossible, monseigneur. I have strict orders tosee that you hold no communication with any one."
"With M. d'Herblay, captain--with your friend!"
"Monseigneur, is M. d'Herblay the only person with whom you ought to beprevented holding any communication?"
Fouquet colored, and then assuming an air of resignation, he said: "Youare right, monsieur; you have taught me a lesson I ought not to haveevoked. A fallen man cannot assert his right to anything, even fromthose whose fortunes he may have made; for a still stronger reason,he cannot claim anything from those to whom he may never have had thehappiness of doing a service."
"Monseigneur!"
"It is perfectly true, Monsieur d'Artagnan; you have always acted inthe most admirable manner towards me--in such a manner, indeed, as mostbecomes the man who is destined to arrest me. You, at least, have neverasked me anything."
"Monsieur," replied the Gascon, touched by his eloquent and noble toneof grief, "will you--I ask it as a favor--pledge me your word as a manof honor that you will not leave this room?"
"What is the use of it, dear Monsieur d'Artagnan, since you keep watchand ward over me? Do you suppose I should contend against the mostvaliant sword in the kingdom?"
"It is not that, at all, monseigneur; but that I am going to look for M.d'Herblay, and, consequently, to leave you alone."
Fouquet uttered a cry of delight and surprise.
"To look for M. d'Herblay! to leave me alone!" he exclaimed, claspinghis hands together.
"Which is M. d'Herblay's room? The blue room is it not?"
"Yes, my friend, yes."
"Your friend! thank you for that word, monseigneur; you confer it uponme to-day, at least, if you have never done so before."
"Ah! you have saved me."
"It will take a good ten minutes to go from hence to the blue room, andto return?" said D'Artagnan.
"Nearly so."
"And then to wake Aramis, who sleeps very soundly, when he is asleep,I put that down at another five minutes; making a total of fifteenminutes' absence. And now, monseigneur, give me your word that you willnot in any way attempt to make your escape, and that when I return Ishall find you here again."
"I give it, monsieur," replied Fouquet, with an expression of thewarmest and deepest gratitude.
D'Artagnan disappeared. Fouquet looked at him as he quitted the room,waited with a feverish impatience until the door was closed behind him,and as soon as it was shut, flew to his keys, opened two or three secretdoors concealed in various articles of furniture in the room, lookedvainly for certain papers, which doubtless he had left at Saint-Mande,and which he seemed to regret not having found in them; then hurriedlyseizing hold of letters, contracts, papers, writings, he heaped themup into a pile, which he burnt in the extremest haste upon the marblehearth of the fireplace, not even taking time to draw from the interiorof it the vases and pots of flowers with which it was filled. As soon ashe had finished, like a man who has just escaped an imminent danger, andwhose strength abandons him as soon as the danger is past, he sank down,completely overcome, on a couch. When D'Artagnan returned, he foundFouquet in the same position; the worthy musketeer had not the slightestdoubt that Fouquet, having given his word, would not even think offailing to keep it, but he had thought it most likely that Fouquet wouldturn his (D'Artagnan's) absence to the best advantage in getting rid ofall the papers, memorandums, and contracts, which might possibly renderhis position, which was even now serious enough, more dangerous thanever. And so, lifting up his head like a dog who has regained the scent,he perceived an odor resembling smoke he had relied on finding in theatmosphere, and having found it, made a movement of his head in tokenof satisfaction. As D'Artagnan entered, Fouquet, on his side, raised hishead, and not one of D'Artagnan's movements escaped him. And then thelooks of the two men met, and they both saw that they had understoodeach other without exchanging a syllable.
"Well!" asked Fouquet, the first to speak, "and M. d'Herblay?"
"Upon my word, monseigneur," replied D'Artagnan, "M. d'Herblay mustbe desperately fond of walking out at night, and composing versesby moonlight in the park of Vaux, with some of your poets, in allprobability, for he is not in his own room."
"What! not in his own room?" cried Fouquet, whose last hope thus escapedhim; for unless he could ascertain in what way the bishop of Vannescould assist him, he perfectly well knew that he could expect assistancefrom no other quarter.
"Or, indeed," continued D'Artagnan, "if he is in his own room, he hasvery good reasons for not answering."
"But surely you did not call him in such a manner that he could haveheard you?"
"You can hardly sup
pose, monseigneur, that having already exceeded myorders, which forbade me leaving you a single moment--you can hardlysuppose, I say, that I should have been mad enough to rouse the wholehouse and allow myself to be seen in the corridor of the bishop ofVannes, in order that M. Colbert might state with positive certaintythat I gave you time to burn your papers."
"My papers?"
"Of course; at least that is what I should have done in your place. Whenany one opens a door for me I always avail myself of it."
"Yes, yes, and I thank you, for I have availed myself of it."
"And you have done perfectly right. Every man has his own peculiarsecrets with which others have nothing to do. But let us return toAramis, monseigneur."
"Well, then, I tell you, you could not have called loud enough, orAramis would have heard you."
"However softly any one may call Aramis, monseigneur, Aramis alwayshears when he has an interest in hearing. I repeat what I saidbefore--Aramis was not in his own room, or Aramis had certain reasonsfor not recognizing my voice, of which I am ignorant, and of which youmay be even ignorant yourself, notwithstanding your liege-man is HisGreatness the Lord Bishop of Vannes."
Fouquet drew a deep sigh, rose from his seat, took three or four turnsin his room, and finished by seating himself, with an expression ofextreme dejection, upon his magnificent bed with velvet hangings,and costliest lace. D'Artagnan looked at Fouquet with feelings of thedeepest and sincerest pity.
"I have seen a good many men arrested in my life," said the musketeer,sadly; "I have seen both M. de Cinq-Mars and M. de Chalais arrested,though I was very young then. I have seen M. de Conde arrested withthe princes; I have seen M. de Retz arrested; I have seen M. Brousselarrested. Stay a moment, monseigneur, it is disagreeable to have to say,but the very one of all those whom you most resemble at this moment wasthat poor fellow Broussel. You were very near doing as he did, puttingyour dinner napkin in your portfolio, and wiping your mouth with yourpapers. _Mordioux!_ Monseigneur Fouquet, a man like you ought not to bedejected in this manner. Suppose your friends saw you?"
"Monsieur d'Artagnan," returned the surintendant, with a smile fullof gentleness, "you do not understand me; it is precisely because myfriends are not looking on, that I am as you see me now. I do not live,exist even, isolated from others; I am nothing when left to myself.Understand that throughout my whole life I have passed every moment ofmy time in making friends, whom I hoped to render my stay and support.In times of prosperity, all these cheerful, happy voices--rendered sothrough and by my means--formed in my honor a concert of praise andkindly actions. In the least disfavor, these humbler voices accompaniedin harmonious accents the murmur of my own heart. Isolation I have neveryet known. Poverty (a phantom I have sometimes beheld, clad in rags,awaiting me at the end of my journey through life)--poverty has been thespecter with which many of my own friends have trifled for years past,which they poetize and caress, and which has attracted me towards them.Poverty! I accept it, acknowledge it, receive it, as a disinheritedsister; for poverty is neither solitude, nor exile, nor imprisonment.Is it likely I shall ever be poor, with such friends as Pelisson, asLa Fontaine, as Moliere? with such a mistress as--Oh! if you knew howutterly lonely and desolate I feel at this moment, and how you, whoseparate me from all I love, seem to resemble the image of solitude, ofannihilation--death itself."
"But I have already told you, Monsieur Fouquet," replied D'Artagnan,moved to the depths of his soul, "that you are woefully exaggerating.The king likes you."
"No, no," said Fouquet, shaking his head.
"M. Colbert hates you."
"M. Colbert! What does that matter to me?"
"He will ruin you."
"Ah! I defy him to do that, for I am ruined already."
At this singular confession of the superintendent, D'Artagnan casthis glance all round the room; and although he did not open his lips,Fouquet understood him so thoroughly, that he added: "What can be donewith such wealth of substance as surrounds us, when a man can no longercultivate his taste for the magnificent? Do you know what good thegreater part of the wealth and the possessions which we rich enjoy,confer upon us? merely to disgust us, by their very splendor even, witheverything which does not equal it! Vaux! you will say, and the wondersof Vaux! What of it? What boot these wonders? If I am ruined, how shallI fill with water the urns which my Naiads bear in their arms, orforce the air into the lungs of my Tritons? To be rich enough, Monsieurd'Artagnan, a man must be too rich."
D'Artagnan shook his head.
"Oh! I know very well what you think," replied Fouquet, quickly. "IfVaux were yours, you would sell it, and would purchase an estate in thecountry; an estate which should have woods, orchards, and land attached,so that the estate should be made to support its master. With fortymillions you might--"
"Ten millions," interrupted D'Artagnan.
"Not a million, my dear captain. No one in France is rich enough to givetwo millions for Vaux, and to continue to maintain it as I have done; noone could do it, no one would know how."
"Well," said D'Artagnan, "in any case, a million is not abject misery."
"It is not far from it, my dear monsieur. But you do not understand me.No; I will not sell my residence at Vaux; I will give it to you, ifyou like;" and Fouquet accompanied these words with a movement of theshoulders to which it would be impossible to do justice.
"Give it to the king; you will make a better bargain."
"The king does not require me to give it to him," said Fouquet; "hewill take it away from me with the most absolute ease and grace, if itpleases him to do so; and that is the very reason I should prefer to seeit perish. Do you know, Monsieur d'Artagnan, that if the king did nothappen to be under my roof, I would take this candle, go straight to thedome, and set fire to a couple of huge chests of fusees and fireworkswhich are in reserve there, and would reduce my palace to ashes."
"Bah!" said the musketeer, negligently. "At all events, you would not beable to burn the gardens, and that is the finest feature of the place."
"And yet," resumed Fouquet, thoughtfully, "what was I saying? Greatheavens! burn Vaux! destroy my palace! But Vaux is not mine; thesewonderful creations are, it is true, the property, as far as sense ofenjoyment goes, of the man who has paid for them; but as far as durationis concerned, they belong to those who created them. Vaux belongs toLebrun, to Lenotre, to Pelisson, to Levau, to La Fontaine, to Moliere;Vaux belongs to posterity, in fact. You see, Monsieur d'Artagnan, thatmy very house has ceased to be my own."
"That is all well and good," said D'Artagnan; "the idea is agreeableenough, and I recognize M. Fouquet himself in it. That idea, indeed,makes me forget that poor fellow Broussel altogether; and I now fail torecognize in you the whining complaints of that old Frondeur. If you areruined, monsieur, look at the affair manfully, for you too, _mordioux!_belong to posterity, and have no right to lessen yourself in any way.Stay a moment; look at me, I who seem to exercise in some degree akind of superiority over you, because I am arresting you; fate, whichdistributes their different parts to the comedians of this world,accorded me a less agreeable and less advantageous part to fill thanyours has been. I am one of those who think that the parts which kingsand powerful nobles are called upon to act are infinitely of more worththan the parts of beggars or lackeys. It is far better on the stage--onthe stage, I mean, of another theater than the theater of this world--itis far better to wear a fine coat and to talk a fine language, than towalk the boards shod with a pair of old shoes, or to get one's backbonegently polished by a hearty dressing with a stick. In one word, you havebeen a prodigal with money, you have ordered and been obeyed--have beensteeped to the lips in enjoyment; while I have dragged my tether afterme, have been commanded and have obeyed, and have drudged my lifeaway. Well, although I may seem of such trifling importance beside you,monseigneur, I do declare to you, that the recollection of what I havedone serves me as a spur, and prevents me from bowing my old head toosoon. I shall remain unto the very end a trooper; and when my turncom
es, I shall fall perfectly straight, all in a heap, still alive,after having selected my place beforehand. Do as I do, Monsieur Fouquet,you will not find yourself the worse for it; a fall happens only oncein a lifetime to men like yourself, and the chief thing is, to takeit gracefully when the chance presents itself. There is a Latinproverb--the words have escaped me, but I remember the sense of it verywell, for I have thought over it more than once--which says, 'The endcrowns the work!'"
Fouquet rose from his seat, passed his arm round D'Artagnan's neck, andclasped him in a close embrace, whilst with the other hand he pressedhis hand. "An excellent homily," he said, after a moment's pause.
"A soldier's, monseigneur."
"You have a regard for me, in telling me all that."
"Perhaps."
Fouquet resumed his pensive attitude once more, and then, a momentafter, he said: "Where can M. d'Herblay be? I dare not ask you to sendfor him."
"You would not ask me, because I would not do it, Monsieur Fouquet.People would learn it, and Aramis, who is not mixed up with the affair,might possibly be compromised and included in your disgrace."
"I will wait here till daylight," said Fouquet.
"Yes; that is best."
"What shall we do when daylight comes?"
"I know nothing at all about it, monseigneur."
"Monsieur d'Artagnan, will you do me a favor?"
"Most willingly."
"You guard me, I remain; you are acting in the full discharge of yourduty, I suppose?"
"Certainly."
"Very good, then; remain as close to me as my shadow if you like; and Iinfinitely prefer such a shadow to any one else."
D'Artagnan bowed to the compliment.
"But, forget that you are Monsieur d'Artagnan, captain of themusketeers; forget that I am Monsieur Fouquet, surintendant of thefinances; and let us talk about my affairs."
"That is rather a delicate subject."
"Indeed?"
"Yes; but, for your sake, Monsieur Fouquet, I will do what may almost beregarded as an impossibility."
"Thank you. What did the king say to you?"
"Nothing."
"Ah! is that the way you talk?"
"The deuce!"
"What do you think of my situation?"
"I do not know."
"However, unless you have some ill feeling against me--"
"Your position is a difficult one."
"In what respect?"
"Because you are under your own roof."
"However difficult it may be, I understand it very well."
"Do you suppose that, with any one else but yourself, I should haveshown so much frankness?"
"What! so much frankness, do you say? you, who refuse to tell me theslightest thing?"
"At all events, then, so much ceremony and consideration."
"Ah! I have nothing to say in that respect."
"One moment, monseigneur: let me tell you how I should have behavedtowards any one but yourself. It might be that I happened to arrive atyour door just as your guests or your friends had left you--or, if theyhad not gone yet, I should wait until they were leaving, and shouldthen catch them one after the other, like rabbits; I should lock them upquietly enough, I should steal softly along the carpet of your corridor,and with one hand upon you, before you suspected the slightest thingamiss, I should keep you safely until my master's breakfast in themorning. In this way, I should just the same have avoided all publicity,all disturbance, all opposition; but there would also have been nowarning for M. Fouquet, no consideration for his feelings, none of thosedelicate concessions which are shown by persons who are essentiallycourteous in their natures, whenever the decisive moment may arrive. Areyou satisfied with the plan?"
"It makes me shudder."
"I thought you would not like it. It would have been very disagreeableto have made my appearance to-morrow, without any preparation, and tohave asked you to deliver up your sword."
"Oh! monsieur, I should have died of shame and anger."
"Your gratitude is too eloquently expressed. I have not done enough todeserve it, I assure you."
"Most certainly, monsieur, you will never get me to believe that."
"Well, then, monseigneur, if you are satisfied with what I have done,and have somewhat recovered from the shock which I prepared you for asmuch as I possibly could, let us allow the few hours that remain to passaway undisturbed. You are harassed, and should arrange your thoughts;I beg you, therefore, go to sleep, or pretend to go to sleep, either onyour bed, or in your bed; I will sleep in this armchair; and when I fallasleep, my rest is so sound that a cannon would not wake me."
Fouquet smiled. "I expect, however," continued the musketeer, "the caseof a door being opened, whether a secret door, or any other; or the caseof any one going out of, or coming into, the room--for anything likethat my ear is as quick and sensitive as the ear of a mouse. Creakingnoises make me start. It arises, I suppose, from a natural antipathy toanything of the kind. Move about as much as you like; walk up and downin any part of the room, write, efface, destroy, burn,--nothing likethat will prevent me from going to sleep or even prevent me fromsnoring, but do not touch either the key or the handle of the door, forI should start up in a moment, and that would shake my nerves and makeme ill."
"Monsieur d'Artagnan," said Fouquet, "you are certainly the most wittyand the most courteous man I ever met with; and you will leave me onlyone regret, that of having made your acquaintance so late."
D'Artagnan drew a deep sigh, which seemed to say, "Alas! you haveperhaps made it too soon." He then settled himself in his armchair,while Fouquet, half lying on his bed and leaning on his arm, wasmeditating on his misadventures. In this way, both of them, leaving thecandles burning, awaited the first dawn of the day; and when Fouquethappened to sigh too loudly, D'Artagnan only snored the louder. Nota single visit, not even from Aramis, disturbed their quietude: not asound even was heard throughout the whole vast palace. Outside, however,the guards of honor on duty, and the patrol of musketeers, paced up anddown; and the sound of their feet could be heard on the gravel walks.It seemed to act as an additional soporific for the sleepers, while themurmuring of the wind through the trees, and the unceasing music ofthe fountains whose waters tumbled in the basin, still went onuninterruptedly, without being disturbed at the slight noises and itemsof little moment that constitute the life and death of human nature.
The Man in the Iron Mask Page 19