Chapter XXIV. The False King.
In the meantime, usurped royalty was playing out its part bravely atVaux. Philippe gave orders that for his _petit lever_ the _grandesentrees_, already prepared to appear before the king, should beintroduced. He determined to give this order notwithstanding the absenceof M. d'Herblay, who did not return--our readers know the reason. Butthe prince, not believing that absence could be prolonged, wished,as all rash spirits do, to try his valor and his fortune far from allprotection and instruction. Another reason urged him to this--Anne ofAustria was about to appear; the guilty mother was about to stand in thepresence of her sacrificed son. Philippe was not willing, if he had aweakness, to render the man a witness of it before whom he was boundthenceforth to display so much strength. Philippe opened his foldingdoors, and several persons entered silently. Philippe did not stirwhilst his _valets de chambre_ dressed him. He had watched, the eveningbefore, all the habits of his brother, and played the king in such amanner as to awaken no suspicion. He was thus completely dressed inhunting costume when he received his visitors. His own memory andthe notes of Aramis announced everybody to him, first of all Anne ofAustria, to whom Monsieur gave his hand, and then Madame with M. deSaint-Aignan. He smiled at seeing these countenances, but trembled onrecognizing his mother. That still so noble and imposing figure, ravagedby pain, pleaded in his heart the cause of the famous queen who hadimmolated a child to reasons of state. He found his mother stillhandsome. He knew that Louis XIV. loved her, and he promised himselfto love her likewise, and not to prove a scourge to her old age. Hecontemplated his brother with a tenderness easily to be understood.The latter had usurped nothing, had cast no shades athwart his life. Aseparate tree, he allowed the stem to rise without heeding its elevationor majestic life. Philippe promised himself to be a kind brother to thisprince, who required nothing but gold to minister to his pleasures. Hebowed with a friendly air to Saint-Aignan, who was all reverences andsmiles, and trembling held out his hand to Henrietta, his sister-in-law,whose beauty struck him; but he saw in the eyes of that princess anexpression of coldness which would facilitate, as he thought, theirfuture relations.
"How much more easy," thought he, "it will be to be the brother of thatwoman than her gallant, if she evinces towards me a coldness that mybrother could not have for her, but which is imposed upon me as a duty."The only visit he dreaded at this moment was that of the queen; hisheart--his mind--had just been shaken by so violent a trial, that,in spite of their firm temperament, they would not, perhaps, supportanother shock. Happily the queen did not come. Then commenced, on thepart of Anne of Austria, a political dissertation upon the welcome M.Fouquet had given to the house of France. She mixed up hostilities withcompliments addressed to the king, and questions as to his health, withlittle maternal flatteries and diplomatic artifices.
"Well, my son," said she, "are you convinced with regard to M. Fouquet?"
"Saint-Aignan," said Philippe, "have the goodness to go and inquireafter the queen."
At these words, the first Philippe had pronounced aloud, the slightdifference that there was between his voice and that of the king wassensible to maternal ears, and Anne of Austria looked earnestly at herson. Saint-Aignan left the room, and Philippe continued:
"Madame, I do not like to hear M. Fouquet ill-spoken of, you know I donot--and you have even spoken well of him yourself."
"That is true; therefore I only question you on the state of yoursentiments with respect to him."
"Sire," said Henrietta, "I, on my part, have always liked M. Fouquet. Heis a man of good taste,--a superior man."
"A superintendent who is never sordid or niggardly," added Monsieur;"and who pays in gold all the orders I have on him."
"Every one in this thinks too much of himself, and nobody for thestate," said the old queen. "M. Fouquet, it is a fact, M. Fouquet isruining the state."
"Well, mother!" replied Philippe, in rather a lower key, "do youlikewise constitute yourself the buckler of M. Colbert?"
"How is that?" replied the old queen, rather surprised.
"Why, in truth," replied Philippe, "you speak that just as your oldfriend Madame de Chevreuse would speak."
"Why do you mention Madame de Chevreuse to me?" said she, "and what sortof humor are you in to-day towards me?"
Philippe continued: "Is not Madame de Chevreuse always in league againstsomebody? Has not Madame de Chevreuse been to pay you a visit, mother?"
"Monsieur, you speak to me now in such a manner that I can almost fancyI am listening to your father."
"My father did not like Madame de Chevreuse, and had good reason for notliking her," said the prince. "For my part, I like her no better than_he_ did, and if she thinks proper to come here as she formerly did, tosow divisions and hatreds under the pretext of begging money--why--"
"Well! what?" said Anne of Austria, proudly, herself provoking thestorm.
"Well!" replied the young man firmly, "I will drive Madame de Chevreuseout of my kingdom--and with her all who meddle with its secrets andmysteries."
He had not calculated the effect of this terrible speech, or perhapshe wished to judge the effect of it, like those who, suffering from achronic pain, and seeking to break the monotony of that suffering,touch their wound to procure a sharper pang. Anne of Austria was nearlyfainting; her eyes, open but meaningless, ceased to see for severalseconds; she stretched out her arms towards her other son, who supportedand embraced her without fear of irritating the king.
"Sire," murmured she, "you are treating your mother very cruelly."
"In what respect, madame?" replied he. "I am only speaking of Madame deChevreuse; does my mother prefer Madame de Chevreuse to the securityof the state and of my person? Well, then, madame, I tell you Madame deChevreuse has returned to France to borrow money, and that she addressedherself to M. Fouquet to sell him a certain secret."
"A certain secret!" cried Anne of Austria.
"Concerning pretended robberies that monsieur le surintendant hadcommitted, which is false," added Philippe. "M. Fouquet rejected heroffers with indignation, preferring the esteem of the king to complicitywith such intriguers. Then Madame de Chevreuse sold the secret to M.Colbert, and as she is insatiable, and was not satisfied with havingextorted a hundred thousand crowns from a servant of the state, she hastaken a still bolder flight, in search of surer sources of supply. Isthat true, madame?"
"You know all, sire," said the queen, more uneasy than irritated.
"Now," continued Philippe, "I have good reason to dislike this fury, whocomes to my court to plan the shame of some and the ruin of others. IfHeaven has suffered certain crimes to be committed, and has concealedthem in the shadow of its clemency, I will not permit Madame deChevreuse to counteract the just designs of fate."
The latter part of this speech had so agitated the queen-mother, thather son had pity on her. He took her hand and kissed it tenderly;she did not feel that in that kiss, given in spite of repulsionand bitterness of the heart, there was a pardon for eight years ofsuffering. Philippe allowed the silence of a moment to swallow theemotions that had just developed themselves. Then, with a cheerfulsmile:
"We will not go to-day," said he, "I have a plan." And, turning towardsthe door, he hoped to see Aramis, whose absence began to alarm him. Thequeen-mother wished to leave the room.
"Remain where you are, mother," said he, "I wish you to make your peacewith M. Fouquet."
"I bear M. Fouquet no ill-will; I only dreaded his prodigalities."
"We will put that to rights, and will take nothing of the superintendentbut his good qualities."
"What is your majesty looking for?" said Henrietta, seeing the king'seyes constantly turned towards the door, and wishing to let fly a littlepoisoned arrow at his heart, supposing he was so anxiously expectingeither La Valliere or a letter from her.
"My sister," said the young man, who had divined her thought, thanks tothat marvelous perspicuity of which fortune was from that time about toallow him the exercise, "my
sister, I am expecting a most distinguishedman, a most able counselor, whom I wish to present to you all,recommending him to your good graces. Ah! come in, then, D'Artagnan."
"What does your majesty wish?" said D'Artagnan, appearing.
"Where is monsieur the bishop of Vannes, your friend?"
"Why, sire--"
"I am waiting for him, and he does not come. Let him be sought for."
D'Artagnan remained for an instant stupefied; but soon, reflecting thatAramis had left Vaux privately on a mission from the king, he concludedthat the king wished to preserve the secret. "Sire," replied he, "doesyour majesty absolutely require M. d'Herblay to be brought to you?"
"Absolutely is not the word," said Philippe; "I do not want him soparticularly as that; but if he can be found--"
"I thought so," said D'Artagnan to himself.
"Is this M. d'Herblay the bishop of Vannes?"
"Yes, madame."
"A friend of M. Fouquet?"
"Yes, madame; an old musketeer."
Anne of Austria blushed.
"One of the four braves who formerly performed such prodigies."
The old queen repented of having wished to bite; she broke off theconversation, in order to preserve the rest of her teeth. "Whatever maybe your choice, sire," said she, "I have no doubt it will be excellent."
All bowed in support of that sentiment.
"You will find in him," continued Philippe, "the depth and penetrationof M. de Richelieu, without the avarice of M. de Mazarin!"
"A prime minister, sire?" said Monsieur, in a fright.
"I will tell you all about that, brother; but it is strange that M.d'Herblay is not here!"
He called out:
"Let M. Fouquet be informed that I wish to speak to him--oh! before you,before you; do not retire!"
M. de Saint-Aignan returned, bringing satisfactory news of the queen,who only kept her bed from precaution, and to have strength to carry outthe king's wishes. Whilst everybody was seeking M. Fouquet and Aramis,the new king quietly continued his experiments, and everybody, family,officers, servants, had not the least suspicion of his identity, hisair, his voice, and manners were so like the king's. On his side,Philippe, applying to all countenances the accurate descriptions andkey-notes of character supplied by his accomplice Aramis, conductedhimself so as not to give birth to a doubt in the minds of those whosurrounded him. Nothing from that time could disturb the usurper. Withwhat strange facility had Providence just reversed the loftiest fortuneof the world to substitute the lowliest in its stead! Philippe admiredthe goodness of God with regard to himself, and seconded it with all theresources of his admirable nature. But he felt, at times, something likea specter gliding between him and the rays of his new glory. Aramisdid not appear. The conversation had languished in the royal family;Philippe, preoccupied, forgot to dismiss his brother and MadameHenrietta. The latter were astonished, and began, by degrees, tolose all patience. Anne of Austria stooped towards her son's ear andaddressed some words to him in Spanish. Philippe was completely ignorantof that language, and grew pale at this unexpected obstacle. But, asif the spirit of the imperturbable Aramis had covered him with hisinfallibility, instead of appearing disconcerted, Philippe rose. "Well!what?" said Anne of Austria.
"What is all that noise?" said Philippe, turning round towards the doorof the second staircase.
And a voice was heard saying, "This way, this way! A few steps more,sire!"
"The voice of M. Fouquet," said D'Artagnan, who was standing close tothe queen-mother.
"Then M. d'Herblay cannot be far off," added Philippe.
But he then saw what he little thought to have beheld so near to him.All eyes were turned towards the door at which M. Fouquet was expectedto enter; but it was not M. Fouquet who entered. A terrible cryresounded from all corners of the chamber, a painful cry uttered bythe king and all present. It is given to but few men, even thosewhose destiny contains the strangest elements, and accidents themost wonderful, to contemplate such a spectacle similar to that whichpresented itself in the royal chamber at that moment. The half-closedshutters only admitted the entrance of an uncertain light passingthrough thick violet velvet curtains lined with silk. In this softshade, the eyes were by degrees dilated, and every one present sawothers rather with imagination than with actual sight. There could not,however, escape, in these circumstances, one of the surrounding details;and the new object which presented itself appeared as luminous as thoughit shone out in full sunlight. So it happened with Louis XIV., when heshowed himself, pale and frowning, in the doorway of the secret stairs.The face of Fouquet appeared behind him, stamped with sorrow anddetermination. The queen-mother, who perceived Louis XIV., and who heldthe hand of Philippe, uttered a cry of which we have spoken, as if shebeheld a phantom. Monsieur was bewildered, and kept turning his head inastonishment from one to the other. Madame made a step forward, thinkingshe was looking at the form of her brother-in-law reflected in a mirror.And, in fact, the illusion was possible. The two princes, both pale asdeath--for we renounce the hope of being able to describe the fearfulstate of Philippe--trembling, clenching their hands convulsively,measured each other with looks, and darted their glances, sharp asponiards, at each other. Silent, panting, bending forward, they appearedas if about to spring upon an enemy. The unheard-of resemblance ofcountenance, gesture, shape, height, even to the resemblance of costume,produced by chance--for Louis XIV. had been to the Louvre and put on aviolet-colored dress--the perfect analogy of the two princes, completedthe consternation of Anne of Austria. And yet she did not at once guessthe truth. There are misfortunes in life so truly dreadful that no onewill at first accept them; people rather believe in the supernatural andthe impossible. Louis had not reckoned on these obstacles. He expectedthat he had only to appear to be acknowledged. A living sun, he couldnot endure the suspicion of equality with any one. He did not admit thatevery torch should not become darkness at the instant he shone out withhis conquering ray. At the aspect of Philippe, then, he was perhaps moreterrified than any one round him, and his silence, his immobilitywere, this time, a concentration and a calm which precede the violentexplosions of concentrated passion.
But Fouquet! who shall paint his emotion and stupor in presence of thisliving portrait of his master! Fouquet thought Aramis was right, thatthis newly-arrived was a king as pure in his race as the other, andthat, for having repudiated all participation in this _coup d'etat_,so skillfully got up by the General of the Jesuits, he must be a madenthusiast, unworthy of ever dipping his hands in political grandstrategy work. And then it was the blood of Louis XIII. which Fouquetwas sacrificing to the blood of Louis XIII.; it was to a selfishambition he was sacrificing a noble ambition; to the right of keepinghe sacrificed the right of having. The whole extent of his fault wasrevealed to him at simple sight of the pretender. All that passed in themind of Fouquet was lost upon the persons present. He had five minutesto focus meditation on this point of conscience; five minutes, that isto say five ages, during which the two kings and their family scarcelyfound energy to breathe after so terrible a shock. D'Artagnan, leaningagainst the wall, in front of Fouquet, with his hand to his brow, askedhimself the cause of such a wonderful prodigy. He could not have said atonce why he doubted, but he knew assuredly that he had reason to doubt,and that in this meeting of the two Louis XIV.s lay all the doubt anddifficulty that during late days had rendered the conduct of Aramis sosuspicious to the musketeer. These ideas were, however, enveloped in ahaze, a veil of mystery. The actors in this assembly seemed to swim inthe vapors of a confused waking. Suddenly Louis XIV., more impatient andmore accustomed to command, ran to one of the shutters, which he opened,tearing the curtains in his eagerness. A flood of living light enteredthe chamber, and made Philippe draw back to the alcove. Louis seizedupon this movement with eagerness, and addressing himself to the queen:
"My mother," said he, "do you not acknowledge your son, since every onehere has forgotten his king!" Anne of Austria started, and raised herarms t
owards Heaven, without being able to articulate a single word.
"My mother," said Philippe, with a calm voice, "do you not acknowledgeyour son?" And this time, in his turn, Louis drew back.
As to Anne of Austria, struck suddenly in head and heart with fellremorse, she lost her equilibrium. No one aiding her, for all werepetrified, she sank back in her fauteuil, breathing a weak, tremblingsigh. Louis could not endure the spectacle and the affront. He boundedtowards D'Artagnan, over whose brain a vertigo was stealing and whostaggered as he caught at the door for support.
"_A moi! mousquetaire!_" said he. "Look us in the face and say which isthe paler, he or I!"
This cry roused D'Artagnan, and stirred in his heart the fibers ofobedience. He shook his head, and, without more hesitation, he walkedstraight up to Philippe, on whose shoulder he laid his hand, saying,"Monsieur, you are my prisoner!"
Philippe did not raise his eyes towards Heaven, nor stir from the spot,where he seemed nailed to the floor, his eye intently fixed upon theking his brother. He reproached him with a sublime silence for allmisfortunes past, all tortures to come. Against this language of thesoul the king felt he had no power; he cast down his eyes, dragging awayprecipitately his brother and sister, forgetting his mother, sittingmotionless within three paces of the son whom she left a second time tobe condemned to death. Philippe approached Anne of Austria, and said toher, in a soft and nobly agitated voice:
"If I were not your son, I should curse you, my mother, for havingrendered me so unhappy."
D'Artagnan felt a shudder pass through the marrow of his bones. Hebowed respectfully to the young prince, and said as he bent, "Excuse me,monseigneur, I am but a soldier, and my oaths are his who has just leftthe chamber."
"Thank you, M. d'Artagnan.... What has become of M. d'Herblay?"
"M. d'Herblay is in safety, monseigneur," said a voice behind them; "andno one, while I live and am free, shall cause a hair to fall from hishead."
"Monsieur Fouquet!" said the prince, smiling sadly.
"Pardon me, monseigneur," said Fouquet, kneeling, "but he who is justgone out from hence was my guest."
"Here are," murmured Philippe, with a sigh, "brave friends and goodhearts. They make me regret the world. On, M. d'Artagnan, I follow you."
At the moment the captain of the musketeers was about to leave the roomwith his prisoner, Colbert appeared, and, after remitting an order fromthe king to D'Artagnan, retired. D'Artagnan read the paper, and thencrushed it in his hand with rage.
"What is it?" asked the prince.
"Read, monseigneur," replied the musketeer.
Philippe read the following words, hastily traced by the hand of theking:
"M. d'Artagnan will conduct the prisoner to the Ile Sainte-Marguerite.He will cover his face with an iron vizor, which the prisoner shallnever raise except at peril of his life."
"That is just," said Philippe, with resignation; "I am ready."
"Aramis was right," said Fouquet, in a low voice, to the musketeer,"this one is every whit as much a king as the other."
"More so!" replied D'Artagnan. "He wanted only you and me."
The Man in the Iron Mask Page 24