CHAPTER LXXXII.
THE GENERAL OF THE ORDER.
There was now a brief silence, during which Aramis never removed hiseyes from Baisemeaux for a moment. The latter seemed only half decidedto disturb himself thus in the middle of supper, and it was clear he wasseeking some pretext, whether good or bad, for delay, at any rate tillafter dessert. And it appeared also that he had hit upon a pretext atlast.
"Eh! but it is impossible!" he cried.
"How impossible?" said Aramis. "Give me a glimpse of thisimpossibility."
"'Tis impossible to set a prisoner at liberty at such an hour. Where canhe go to, he, who is unacquainted with Paris?"
"He will go wherever he can."
"You see, now, one might as well set a blind man free!"
"I have a carriage, and will take him wherever he wishes."
"You have an answer for everything. Francois, tell Monsieur le Major togo and open the cell of M. Seldon, No. 3, Bertaudiere."
"Seldon!" exclaimed Aramis, very naturally. "You said Seldon, I think?"
"I said Seldon, of course. 'Tis the name of the man they set free."
"Oh! You mean to say Marchiali?" said Aramis.
"Marchiali? oh! yes, indeed. No, no, Seldon."
"I think you are making a mistake, Monsieur Baisemeaux."
"I have read the order."
"And I also."
"And I saw 'Seldon' in letters as large as that," and Baisemeaux held uphis finger.
"And I read 'Marchiali,' in characters as large as this," said Aramis,also holding up two fingers.
"To the proof; let us throw a light on the matter," said Baisemeaux,confident he was right. "There is the paper, you have only to read it."
"I read 'Marchiali,'" returned Aramis, spreading out the paper. "Look."
Baisemeaux looked, and his arms dropped suddenly. "Yes, yes," he said,quite overwhelmed; "yes, Marchiali. 'Tis plainly written Marchiali!Quite true!"
"Ah!"
"How? the man of whom we have talked so much? The man whom they areevery day telling me to take such care of?"
"There is 'Marchiali,'" repeated the inflexible Aramis.
"I must own it, monseigneur. But I understand absolutely nothing aboutit."
"You believe your eyes, at any rate."
"To tell me very plainly there is 'Marchiali.'"
"And in a good handwriting, too."
"'Tis a wonder! I still see this order and the name of Seldon, Irishman.I see it. Ah! I even recollect that under this name there was a blot ofink."
"No, there is no ink; no, there is no blot."
"Oh! but there was, though; I know it, because I rubbed the powder thatwas over the blot."
"In a word, be it how it may, dear M. Baisemeaux," said Aramis, "andwhatever you may have seen, the order is signed to release Marchiali,blot or no blot."
"The order is signed to release Marchiali!" repeated Baisemeaux,mechanically endeavoring to regain his courage.
"And you are going to release this prisoner. If your heart dictates toyou to deliver Seldon also, I declare to you I will not oppose it theleast in the world." Aramis accompanied this remark with a smile, theirony of which effectually dispelled Baisemeaux's confusion of mind, andrestored his courage.
"Monseigneur," he said, "this Marchiali is the very same prisoner whomthe other day a priest, confessor of _our order_, came to visit in soimperious and so secret a manner."
"I don't know that, monsieur," replied the bishop.
"'Tis no such long time ago, dear Monsieur d'Herblay."
"It is true. But _with us_, monsieur, it is good that the man of to-dayshould no longer know what the man of yesterday did."
"In any case," said Baisemeaux, "the visit of the Jesuit confessor musthave given happiness to this man."
Aramis made no reply, but recommenced eating and drinking. As forBaisemeaux, no longer touching anything that was on the table, he againtook up the order and examined it in every way. This investigation,under ordinary circumstances, would have made the ears of the impatientAramis burn with anger; but the bishop of Vannes did not become incensedfor so little, above all, when he had murmured to himself that to do sowas dangerous. "Are you going to release Marchiali?" he said. "Whatmellow and fragrant sherry this is, my dear governor."
"Monseigneur," replied Baisemeaux, "I shall release the prisonerMarchiali when I have summoned the courier who brought the order, andabove all, when, by interrogating him, I have satisfied myself."
"The order is sealed, and the courier is ignorant of the contents. Whatdo you want to satisfy yourself about?"
"Be it so, monseigneur; but I shall send to the ministry, and M. deLyonne will either confirm or withdraw the order."
"What is the good of all that?" asked Aramis, coldly.
"What good?"
"Yes; what is your object, I ask?"
"The object of never deceiving one's self, monseigneur, nor beingwanting in the respect which a subaltern owes to his superior officers,nor infringing the duties of that service which one has voluntarilyaccepted."
"Very good; you have just spoken so eloquently, that I cannot but admireyou. It is true that a subaltern owes respect to his superiors; he isguilty when he deceives himself, and he should be punished if heinfringe either the duties or laws of his office." Baisemeaux looked atthe bishop with astonishment.
"It follows," pursued Aramis, "that you are going to ask advice, to putyour conscience at ease in the matter?"
"Yes, monseigneur."
"And if a superior officer gives you orders, you will obey?"
"Never doubt it, monseigneur."
"You know the king's signature well, M. de Baisemeaux?"
"Yes, monseigneur."
"Is it not on this order of release?"
"It is true, but it may--"
"Be forged, you mean?"
"That is evident, monseigneur."
"You are right. And that of M. de Lyonne?"
"I see it plain enough on the order; but for the same reason that theking's signature may have been forged, so also, even more likely, may M.de Lyonne's."
"Your logic has the stride of a giant, M. de Baisemeaux," said Aramis;"and your reasoning is irresistible. But on what special grounds do youbase your idea that these signatures are false?"
"On this: the absence of counter-signatures. Nothing checks hismajesty's signature; and M. de Lyonne is not there to tell me he hassigned."
"Well, Monsieur de Baisemeaux," said Aramis, bending an eagle glance onthe governor, "I adopt so frankly your doubts, and your mode of clearingthem up, that I will take a pen, if you will give me one."
Baisemeaux gave him a pen.
"And a sheet of white paper," added Aramis.
Baisemeaux handed some paper.
"Now, I--I, also--I, here present--incontestably, I--am going to writean order to which I am certain you will give credence, incredulous asyou are!"
Baisemeaux turned pale at this icy assurance of manner. It seemed to himthat that voice of the bishop's, but just now so playful and so gay, hadbecome funereal and sad; that the wax-lights changed into the tapers ofa mortuary chapel, and the glasses of wine into chalices of blood.
Aramis took a pen and wrote. Baisemeaux, in terror, read over hisshoulder.
"A.M.D.G." wrote the bishop; and he drew a cross under these four letters, which signify _ad majorem Dei gloriam_, "to the greater glory of God;" and thus he continued, "It is our pleasure that the order brought to M. de Baisemeaux de Montlezun, governor, for the king, of the castle of the Bastille, he held by him good and effectual, and be immediately carried into operation.
"(Signed) D'HERBLAY, "General of the Order, by the grace of God."
Baisemeaux was so profoundly astonished that his features remainedcontracted, his lips parted, and his eyes fixed. He did not move aninch, nor articulate a sound. Nothing could be heard in that largechamber but the buzzing of a little moth, which was flu
ttering about thecandles. Aramis, without even deigning to look at the man whom he hadreduced to so miserable a condition, drew from his pocket a small caseof black wax; he sealed the letter, and stamped it with a seal suspendedat his breast, beneath his doublet, and when the operation wasconcluded, presented--still in silence--the missive to M. de Baisemeaux.The latter, whose hands trembled in a manner to excite pity, turned adull and meaningless gaze upon the letter. A last gleam of feelingplayed over his features, and he fell, as if thunderstruck, on a chair.
"Come, come," said Aramis, after a long silence, during which thegovernor of the Bastille had slowly recovered his senses, "do not lead meto believe, dear Baisemeaux, that the presence of the general of theOrder is as terrible as His, and that men die merely from having seenHim. Take courage, rouse yourself; give me your hand, and obey."
Baisemeaux, reassured, if not satisfied, obeyed, kissed Aramis' hand,and rose. "Immediately?" he murmured.
"Oh, there is no pressing haste, my host; take your place again, and dothe honors over this beautiful dessert."
"Monseigneur, I shall never recover such a shock as this; I who havelaughed, who have jested with you! I who have dared to treat you on afooting of equality!"
"Say nothing about it, old comrade," replied the bishop, who perceivedhow strained the cord was, and how dangerous it would have been to breakit; "say nothing about it. Let us each live in our own way: to you, myprotection and my friendship; to me, your obedience. Having exactlyfulfilled these two requirements, let us live happily."
Baisemeaux reflected; he perceived, at a glance, the consequences ofthis withdrawal of a prisoner by means of a forged order; and, puttingin the scale the guarantee offered him by the official order of thegeneral, did not consider it of any value.
Aramis divined this. "My dear Baisemeaux," said he, "you are asimpleton. Lose this habit of reflection when I give myself the troubleto think for you."
And at another gesture he made, Baisemeaux bowed again. "How shall I setabout it?" he said.
"What is the process for releasing a prisoner?"
"I have the regulations."
"Well, then, follow the regulations, my friend."
"I go with my major to the prisoner's room, and conduct him, if he is apersonage of importance."
"But this Marchiali is not an important personage," said Aramis,carelessly.
"I don't know," answered the governor; as if he would have said, "It isfor you to instruct me."
"Then if you don't know it, I am right; so act toward Marchiali as youact toward one of obscure station."
"Good; the regulations so provide. They are to the effect, that theturnkey, or one of the lower officials, shall bring the prisoner beforethe governor, in the office."
"Well, 'tis very wise, that; and then?"
"Then we return to the prisoner the valuables he wore at the time of hisimprisonment, his clothes and papers, if the minister's order have nototherwise directed."
"What was the minister's order as to this Marchiali?"
"Nothing; for the unhappy man arrived here without jewels, withoutpapers, and almost without clothes."
"See how simple it all is. Indeed, Baisemeaux, you make a mountain ofeverything. Remain here, and make them bring the prisoner to thegovernor's house."
Baisemeaux obeyed. He summoned his lieutenant, and gave him an order,which the latter passed on, without disturbing himself about it, to thenext whom it concerned.
Half an hour afterward they heard a gate shut in the court; it was thedoor to the dungeon, which had just rendered up its prey to the freeair. Aramis blew out all the candles which lighted the room but one,which he left burning behind the door. This flickering glare preventedthe sight from resting steadily on any object. It multiplied tenfold thechanging forms and shadows of the place, by its wavering uncertainty.Steps drew near.
"Go and meet your men," said Aramis to Baisemeaux.
The governor obeyed. The sergeant and turnkeys disappeared. Baisemeauxre-entered, followed by a prisoner. Aramis had placed himself in theshade; he saw without being seen. Baisemeaux, in an agitated tone ofvoice, made the young man acquainted with the order which set him atliberty. The prisoner listened, without making a single gesture orsaying a word.
"You will swear ('tis the regulation that requires it)," added thegovernor, "never to reveal anything that you have seen or heard in theBastille."
The prisoner perceived a crucifix; he stretched out his hands, and sworewith his lips. "And now, monsieur, you are free, whither do you intendgoing?"
The prisoner turned his head, as if looking behind him for someprotection, on which he ought to rely. Then was it that Aramis came outof the shade: "I am here," he said, "to render the gentleman whateverservice he may please to ask."
The prisoner slightly reddened, and without hesitation passed his armthrough that of Aramis. "God have you in his holy keeping," he said, ina voice the firmness of which made the governor tremble as much as theform of the blessing astonished him.
Aramis on shaking hands with Baisemeaux, said to him: "Does my ordertrouble you? Do you fear their finding it here, should they come tosearch?"
"I desire to keep it, monseigneur," said Baisemeaux. "If they found ithere, it would be a certain indication I should be lost, and in thatcase you would be a powerful and a last auxiliary for me."
"Being your accomplice, you mean?" answered Aramis, shrugging hisshoulders, "Adieu, Baisemeaux," said he.
The horses were in waiting, making the carriage shake again with theirimpatience. Baisemeaux accompanied the bishop to the bottom of thesteps. Aramis caused his companion to mount before him, then followed,and without giving the driver any further order, "Go on," said he. Thecarriage rattled over the pavement of the courtyard. An officer with atorch went before the horses, and gave orders at every post to let thempass. During the time taken in opening all the barriers, Aramis barelybreathed, and you might have heard his "sealed heart knock against hisribs." The prisoner, buried in a corner of the carriage, made no moresign of life than his companion. At length, a jolt more severe than theothers announced to them that they had cleared the last watercourse.Behind the carriage closed the last gate, that in the Rue St. Antoine.No more walls either on the right or left; heaven everywhere, libertyeverywhere, and life everywhere. The horses, kept in check by a vigoroushand, went quietly as far as the middle of the faubourg. There theybegan to trot. Little by little, whether they warmed over it, or whetherthey were urged, they gained in swiftness, and once past Bercy, thecarriage seemed to fly, so great was the ardor of the coursers. Thesehorses ran thus as far as Villeneuve St. George's, where relays werewaiting. Then four instead of two whirled the carriage away in thedirection of Melun and pulled up for a moment in the middle of theforest of Senarl. No doubt the order had been given the postilionbeforehand, for Aramis had no occasion even to make a sign.
"What is the matter?" asked the prisoner, as if waking from a longdream.
"The matter is, monseigneur," said Aramis, "that before going further,it is necessary your royal highness and I should converse."
"I will wait an opportunity, monsieur," answered the young prince.
"We could not have a better, monseigneur; we are in the middle of aforest, and no one can hear us."
"The postilion?"
"The postilion of this relay is deaf and dumb, monseigneur."
"I am at your service, M. d'Herblay."
"Is it your pleasure to remain in the carriage?"
"Yes, we are comfortably seated, and I like this carriage; for it hasrestored me to liberty."
"Wait, monseigneur; there is yet a precaution to be taken."
"What?"
"We are here on the highway; cavaliers or carriages traveling likeourselves might pass, and seeing us stopping, deem us in somedifficulty. Let us avoid offers of assistance, which would embarrassus."
"Give the postilion orders to conceal the carriage in one of the sideavenues."
"'Tis exactly what I wished to do,
monseigneur."
Aramis made a sign to the deaf and dumb driver of the carriage, whom hetouched on the arm. The latter dismounted, took the leaders by thebridle, and led them over the velvet sward and the mossy grass of awinding alley, at the bottom of which, on this moonless night, the deepshades formed a curtain blacker than ink. This done, the man lay down ona slope near his horses, who, on either side, kept nibbling the youngoak shoots.
"I am listening," said the young prince to Aramis; "but what are youdoing there?"
"I am disarming myself of my pistols, of which we have no further need,monseigneur."