The Man in the Iron Mask

by Alexandre Dumas

  Chapter XXI. The King's Friend.

  Fouquet was waiting with anxiety; he had already sent away many of hisservants and friends, who, anticipating the usual hour of his ordinaryreceptions, had called at his door to inquire after him. Preservingthe utmost silence respecting the danger which hung suspended by a hairabove his head, he only asked them, as he did every one, indeed, whocame to the door, where Aramis was. When he saw D'Artagnan return,and when he perceived the bishop of Vannes behind him, he could hardlyrestrain his delight; it was fully equal to his previous uneasiness. Themere sight of Aramis was a complete compensation to the surintendant forthe unhappiness he had undergone in his arrest. 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 a 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 in the wide world you like, my friend," replied the bishop, inhis calmest tones.

  "One thing only, then, and I shall be perfectly satisfied. How on earthdid you manage to become the favorite of the king, you who have neverspoken to him 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, whilst 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, Aramisturned towards M. Fouquet, who was as much surprised as the musketeer."Monseigneur," he resumed, "the king desires me to inform you that heis more than ever your friend, and that your beautiful _fete_, sogenerously offered by you on his behalf, has touched him to the veryheart."

  And thereupon he saluted M. Fouquet with so much reverence of manner,that the latter, incapable of understanding a man whose diplomacy wasof so 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 toeach other, and he was about to yield to that feeling of instinctivepoliteness which in such a case hurries a man towards the door, whenhe feels his presence is an inconvenience for others; but his eagercuriosity, spurred on by so many mysteries, counseled him to remain.

  Aramis thereupon turned towards him, and said, in a quiet tone, "Youwill not forget, my friend, the king's order respecting those whomhe intends to receive this morning on rising." These words were clearenough, and the musketeer understood them; he therefore bowed toFouquet, and then to Aramis,--to the latter with a slight admixture ofironical respect,--and disappeared.

  No sooner had he left, than Fouquet, whose impatience had hardly beenable to wait for that moment, darted towards the door to close it, andthen returning to the bishop, he said, "My dear D'Herblay, I think itnow high time you should explain all that has passed, for, in plain andhonest 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 his reason was for having youarrested."

  "Since my arrest, I have had time to think over it, and my idea isthat it arises out of some slight feeling of jealousy. My _fete_ put M.Colbert out of temper, and M. Colbert discovered some cause of complaintagainst me; 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 steal from you?"

  "Yes, of course!"

  "Well, you are pronounced 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, theking has seen the receipts, and he can do no other than believe you areincriminated."

  "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. Pray conclude."

  "In the fewest words. The king, we may henceforth assume, is yourpowerful, implacable, and eternal enemy."

  "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 with you--irreconcilably."

  "But, since he has absolved me--"

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

  "Without believing in his sincerity, I believe it in the accomplishedfact."

  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 no message for you."

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

  "Oh! yes. You are quite right. There _is_ an order, certainly;" andthese words were pronounced by Aramis in so strange a tone, that Fouquetcould not 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 one word to me."

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

  "As long as you like."

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

  "Ah! that's the point."

  "He does your bidding?"

  "I believe so."

  "It is hardly credible."

  "So any one would say."

  "D'Herblay, by our alliance, by our friendship, by everything you holddearest in the world, speak openly, I implore you. By what means haveyou succeeded in overcoming Louis XIV.'s prejudices, for he did not likeyou, I am certain."

  "The king will like me _now_," said Aramis, laying stress upon the lastword.

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

  "Yes."

  "A secret, perhaps?"

  "A secret."

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

  "You are, indeed, a man of superior intelligence, monseigneur, andhave made a particularly accurate guess. I have, in fact, discovered asecret, of a nature to change the interests of the king of France."

  "Ah!" said Fouquet, with the reserve of a man who does not wish to askany more 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 about nothing which it may beindiscreet in 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 if 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 law."

  "True; but it is a grave matter, when the quality of races is calledinto question."

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

  "Nothing."

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

  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?"

  "Have patience. 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 has he done."

  "Yes, yes."

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

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

  "The one was the most fortunate of men: the other the most unhappy andmiserable 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 legitimate princes, ought to have beenkings. Is not that your opinion?"

  "It is, certainly."

  "Unreservedly?"

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

  "I am pleased that a legist of your learning and authority shouldhave pronounced such an opinion. It is agreed, then, that each of thempossessed equal rights, is it not?"

  "Incontestably! 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, ora supporter, or vindicator, if you prefer it. It happened that thereigning king, the usurper--you are quite of my opinion, I believe, thatit is an act of usurpation quietly to enjoy, and selfishly to assume theright over, an inheritance to which a man has only half a right?"

  "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; you have relied upon meto repair 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,was suddenly taken into the greatest aversion, and menaced with theruin of his fortune, loss of liberty, loss of life even, by intrigue andpersonal hatred, to which the king gave too readily an attentive ear.But Heaven permits (still, however, out of consideration for the unhappyprince who had been sacrificed) that M. Fouquet should in his turn havea devoted friend who knew this state secret, and felt that he possessedstrength and courage enough to divulge this secret, after having had thestrength to carry it locked up in his own heart for twenty years.

  "Go no farther," said Fouquet, full of generous feelings. "I understandyou, and can guess everything now. You went to see the king when theintelligence of my arrest reached you; you implored him, he refused tolisten to you; then you threatened him with that secret, threatened toreveal it, and Louis XIV., alarmed at the risk of its betrayal, grantedto the terror of your indiscretion what he refused to your generousintercession. I understand, I understand; you have the king in yourpower; I understand."

  "You understand _nothing_--as yet," replied Aramis, "and again youinterrupt me. Then, too, allow me to observe that you pay no attentionto logical reasoning, and seem to forget what you ought most toremember."

  "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 that 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 in a dungeon.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.

  "And then," replied the latter, after having mastered his feelings,"should I be the man I really am, should I be the true friend youbelieve me, if I were to expose you, whom the king already hates sobitterly, to a feeling more than ever to be dreaded in that young man?To have robbed him, is nothing; to have addressed the woman he loves, isnot much; but to hold in your keeping both his crown and his honor, why,he would 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 in you a little interest. You are listening, I hope."

  "How can yo
u 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 revelation 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 Bastile is, most incontestably, 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 in genius and nobility ofcharacter."

  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 superintendents, 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 Bastile, for the son ofLouis XIII., who is at this moment asleep in the Chamber of Morpheus?"

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

  "Have you thought," continued Fouquet, 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 allconsequences, and embraces every result at a glance--"have you thoughtthat we must assemble the nobility, the clergy, and the third estateof the realm; that we shall have to depose the reigning sovereign, todisturb by so frightful a scandal the tomb of their dead father, tosacrifice the life, the honor of a woman, Anne of Austria, the life andpeace of mind and heart of another woman, Maria Theresa; and supposethat it were all done, if we were to succeed in doing it--"

  "I do not understand you," continued Aramis, coldly. "There is not asingle syllable of sense in all you have just said."

  "What!" said the superintendent, surprised, "a man like you refuse toview the practical bearing 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,who seizes 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 executionof its decrees? No, I wish you to understand that Heaven effects itspurposes without confusion or disturbance, without exciting commentor remark, 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 thatif there 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 theBastile 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 Bastile which his victim occupied for so many years."

  "Great God! And who took him there?"

  "I."

  "You?"

  "Yes, and in the simplest way. I carried him away last night. While hewas descending into midnight, the other was ascending into day. I donot think there has been any disturbance whatever. A flash of lightningwithout thunder awakens nobody."

  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 was 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 it is likely to continueso, 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 towards the prelate, whom he looked at full in theface. "You have dishonored me," he said, "in committing so foul anact of 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 reso
lutely 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 inhis magnanimity, 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 seenonce more 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 towards all who are dwellers beneath my roof,"continued Fouquet, with an air of inexpressible majesty; "you will notbe more fatally 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, andfleeting than the life of the 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 blood-stained 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 roomby the 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's apartment. He reflected profoundlyand for some time, while Fouquet's carriage left the courtyard at fullgallop.

  "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!without me he will be utterly destroyed. Yet who knows--let destinybe fulfilled--condemned he was, let him remain so then! Good or evilSpirit--gloomy and scornful Power, whom men call the genius of humanity,thou art a power more restlessly uncertain, more baselessly useless,than wild mountain wind! 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 stand 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!What can be done? Flee to Belle-Isle? Yes, and leave Porthos behind me,to talk 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 forgotits thoughts. 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 leave immediately," 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. Whilst 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 great importance," 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 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 fugitives mounted their horses beneath the very eyes of the captainof the musketeers, who held Porthos's stirrup for him, and gazed afterthem until they were out of sight.

  "On any other occasion," thought the Gascon, "I should say that thosegentlemen were making their escape; but in these days politics seemso changed that such an exit is termed going on a mission. I have noobjection; let me attend to my own affairs, that is more than enough for_me_,"--and he philosophically entered his apartments.