CHAPTER LXXXIX.
COLBERT.
History will tell us, or rather history has told us, of the variousevents of the following day, of the splendid fetes given by thesurintendant to his sovereign. There was nothing but amusement anddelight allowed to prevail throughout the whole of the following day;there was a promenade, a banquet, a comedy to be acted, and a comedy,too, in which, to his great amazement, Porthos recognized M. Coquelin deVoliere as one of the actors, in the piece called "Les Facheux." Full ofpreoccupation, however, from the scene of the previous evening, andhardly recovered from the effects of the poison which Colbert had thenadministered to him, the king, during the whole of the day, so brilliantin its effects, so full of unexpected and startling novelties, in whichall the wonders of the "Arabian Nights' Entertainments" seemed to bereproduced for his especial amusement--the king, we say, showed himselfcold, reserved, and taciturn. Nothing could smooth the frowns upon hisface; everyone who observed him noticed that a deep feeling ofresentment, of remote origin, increased by slow degrees, as the sourcebecomes a river, thanks to the thousand threads of water which increaseits body, was keenly alive in the depths of the king's heart. Toward themiddle of the day only did he begin to resume a little serenity ofmanner, and by that time he had, in all probability, made up his mind.Aramis, who followed him step by step in his thoughts, as in his walk,concluded that the event that he was expecting would not be long beforeit was announced. This time Colbert seemed to walk in concert with thebishop of Vannes, and had he received for every annoyance which heinflicted on the king a word of direction from Aramis, he could not havedone better. During the whole of the day the king, who, in allprobability, wished to free himself from some of the thoughts whichdisturbed his mind, seemed to seek La Valliere's society as actively ashe seemed to show his anxiety to flee that of M. Colbert or M. Fouquet.The evening came. The king had expressed a wish not to walk in the parkuntil after cards in the evening. In the interval between supper and thepromenade, cards and dice were introduced.
The king won a thousand pistoles, and having won them, put them in hispocket, and then rose, saying, "And now, gentlemen, to the park." Hefound the ladies of the court already there. The king, we have beforeobserved, had won a thousand pistoles, and had put them in his pocket;but M. Fouquet had somehow contrived to lose ten thousand, so that amongthe courtiers there was still left a hundred and ninety thousand francsprofit to divide, a circumstance which made the countenances of thecourtiers and the officers of the king's household the most joyouscountenances in the world. It was not the same, however, with the king'sface; for notwithstanding his success at play, to which he was by nomeans insensible, there still remained a slight shade ofdissatisfaction. Colbert was waiting for or upon him at the corner ofone of the avenues; he was most probably waiting there in consequence ofa rendezvous which had been given him by the king, as Louis XIV., whohad avoided him, or who had seemed to avoid him, suddenly made him asign, and they then struck into the depths of the park together. But LaValliere, as well, had observed the king's gloomy aspect and kindlingglances; she had remarked this--and as nothing which lay hidden orsmoldering in his heart was impenetrable to her affection--sheunderstood that this repressed wrath menaced some one; she prepared towithstand the current of his vengeance and intercede like an angel ofmercy. Overcome by sadness, nervously agitated, deeply distressed athaving been so long separated from her lover, disturbed at the sight ofthat emotion which she had divined, she accordingly presented herself tothe king with an embarrassed aspect, which, in his then disposition ofmind, the king interpreted unfavorably. Then, as they were alone, ornearly alone, inasmuch as Colbert, as soon as he perceived the younggirl approaching, had stopped and drawn back a dozen paces--the kingadvanced toward La Valliere and took her by the hand. "Mademoiselle," hesaid to her, "should I be guilty of an indiscretion if I were to inquireif you were indisposed? for you seem to breathe as if you wereoppressed by some secret cause of uneasiness, and your eyes are filledwith tears."
"Oh! sire, if I be indeed so, and if my eyes are indeed full of tears, Iam sorrowful only at the sadness which seems to oppress your majesty."
"My sadness? You are mistaken, mademoiselle; no, it is not sadness Iexperience."
"What is it, then, sire?"
"Humiliation."
"Humiliation? oh! sire, what a word for you to use."
"I mean, mademoiselle, that wherever I may happen to be, no one elseought to be the master. Well, then, look round you on every side, andjudge whether I am not eclipsed--I, the king of France--before the kingof these wide domains. Oh!" he continued, clenching his hands and teeth,"when I think that this king--"
"Well, sire?" said Louise, terrified.
"--That this king is a faithless, unworthy servant, who becomes proudand self-sufficient with property which belongs to me, and which he hasstolen. And, therefore, am I about to change this impudent minister'sfete into a sorrow and mourning, of which the nymph of Vaux, as thepoets say, shall not soon lose the remembrance."
"Oh! your majesty--"
"Well, mademoiselle, are you about to take M. Fouquet's part?" saidLouis, impatiently.
"No, sire; I will only ask whether you are well informed. Your majestyhas more than once learned the value of accusations made at court."
Louis XIV. made a sign for Colbert to approach. "Speak, MonsieurColbert," said the young prince, "for I almost believe that Mademoisellede la Valliere has need of your assurance before she can put any faithin the king's word. Tell mademoiselle what M. Fouquet has done; and you,mademoiselle, will perhaps have the kindness to listen. It will not belong."
Why did Louis XIV. insist upon it in such a manner? A very simplereason--his heart was not at rest; his mind was not thoroughlyconvinced; he imagined there was some dark, hidden, tortuous intrigueconcealed beneath these thirteen millions of francs; and he wished thatthe pure heart of La Valliere, which had revolted at the idea of a theftor robbery, should approve--even were it only a single word--theresolution he had taken, and which, nevertheless, he hesitated aboutcarrying into execution.
"Speak, monsieur," said La Valliere to Colbert, who had advanced;"speak, since the king wishes me to listen to you. Tell me, what is thecrime with which M. Fouquet is charged?"
"Oh! not very heinous, mademoiselle," he returned, "a simple abuse ofconfidence."
"Speak, speak, Colbert; and when you shall have related it, leave us,and go and inform M. d'Artagnan that I have certain orders to give him."
"M. d'Artagnan, sire!" exclaimed La Valliere; "but why send for M.d'Artagnan? I entreat you to tell me."
"Pardieu! in order to arrest this haughty, arrogant Titan, who, true tohis menace, threatens to scale my heaven."
"Arrest M. Fouquet, do you say?"
"Ah! does that surprise you?"
"In his own house?"
"Why not? If he be guilty, he is guilty in his own house as anywhereelse."
"M. Fouquet, who at this moment is ruining himself for his sovereign!"
"In plain truth, mademoiselle, it seems as if you were defending thistraitor."
Colbert began to chuckle silently. The king turned round at the sound ofthis suppressed mirth.
"Sire," said La Valliere, "it is not M. Fouquet I am defending: it isyourself."
"Me! you defend me?"
"Sire, you would be dishonoring yourself, if you were to give such anorder."
"Dishonor myself?" murmured the king, turning pale with anger. "In plaintruth, mademoiselle, you show a strange persistence in what you say."
"If I do so, sire, my only motive is that of serving your majesty,"replied the noble-hearted girl; "for that I would risk, I wouldsacrifice my very life, without the slightest reserve."
Colbert seemed inclined to grumble and complain. La Valliere, thattimid, gentle lamb, turned round upon him, and with a glance likelightning imposed silence upon him. "Monsieur," she said, "when the kingacts well, whether, in doing so, he does either myself or those whobelong to me an injury, I ha
ve nothing to say; but were the king toconfer a benefit either upon me or mine, and if he acted badly, I shouldtell him so."
"But it appears to me, mademoiselle," Colbert ventured to say, "that Itoo love the king."
"Yes, monsieur, we both love him, but each in a different manner,"replied La Valliere, with such an accent that the heart of the youngking was powerfully affected by it. "I love him so deeply, that thewhole world is aware of it; so purely, that the king himself does notdoubt my affection. He is my king and my master; I am the humblest ofhis servants. But he who touches his honor touches my life. Therefore, Irepeat, that they dishonor the king who advise him to arrest M. Fouquetunder his own roof."
Colbert hung down his head, for he felt that the king had abandoned him.However, as he bent his head, he murmured, "Mademoiselle, I have onlyone word to say."
"Do not say it, then, monsieur; for I would not listen to it. Besides,what could you have to tell me? That M. Fouquet has been guilty ofcertain crimes? I know he has, because the king has said so: and fromthe moment the king said, 'I think so,' I have no occasion for otherlips to say, 'I affirm it.' But, were M. Fouquet the vilest of men, Ishould say aloud, 'M. Fouquet's person is sacred to the king because heis the king's host. Were his house a den of thieves, were Vaux a cave ofcoiners or robbers, his home is sacred, his palace is inviolable, sincehis wife is living in it; and that is an asylum which even executionerswould not dare to violate.'"
La Valliere paused, and was silent. In spite of himself, the king couldnot but admire her; he was overpowered by the passionate energy of hervoice; by the nobleness of the cause she advocated. Colbert yielded,overcome by the inequality of the struggle. At last, the king breathedagain more freely, shook his head, and held out his hand to La Valliere."Mademoiselle," he said gently, "why do you decide against me? Do youknow what this wretched fellow will do, if I give him time to breatheagain?"
"Is he not a prey which will always be within your grasp?"
"And if he escapes, and takes to flight?" exclaimed Colbert.
"Well, monsieur, it will always remain on record, to the king's eternalhonor, that he allowed M. Fouquet to flee; and the more guilty he mayhave been, the greater will the king's honor and glory appear, whencompared with such misery and such shame."
Louis kissed La Valliere's hand, as he knelt before her.
"I am lost!" thought Colbert; then suddenly his face brightened upagain. "Oh! no, no, not yet," he said to himself.
And while the king, protected from observation by the thick covert of anenormous lime, pressed La Valliere to his breast, with all the ardor ofineffable affection, Colbert tranquilly looked among the papers in hispocket-book, and drew out of it a paper folded in the form of a letter,slightly yellow, perhaps, but which must have been very precious, sincethe intendant smiled as he looked at it; he then bent a look, full ofhatred, upon the charming group which the young girl and the king formedtogether--a group which was revealed for a moment, as the light of theapproaching torches shone upon it. Louis noticed the light reflectedupon La Valliere's white dress. "Leave me, Louise," he said, "for someone is coming."
"Mademoiselle, mademoiselle, some one is coming," cried Colbert, toexpedite the young girl's departure.
Louise disappeared rapidly among the trees; and then, as the king, whohad been on his knees before the young girl, was rising from his humbleposture, Colbert exclaimed, "Ah! Mademoiselle de la Valliere has letsomething fall."
"What is it?" inquired the king.
"A paper--a letter--something white; look there, sire."
The king stooped down immediately, and picked up the letter, crumplingit in his hand as he did so; and at the same moment the torches arrived,inundating the darkness of the scene with a flood of light as bright asday.