CHAPTER XCVIII.
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, and our readers know for whatreason. But the prince, not believing that absence could be prolonged,wished, as all rash spirits do, to try his valor and his fortune whenfar from all protection and all counsel. Another reason urged him tothis--Anne of Austria was about to appear; the guilty mother was aboutto stand in the presence of her sacrificed son. Philippe was notwilling, if he had a weakness, to render the man a witness of it beforewhom he was bound thenceforth to display so much strength. Philippeopened his folding doors, and several persons entered silently. Philippedid not stir while his valets-de-chambre dressed him. He had watched,the evening before, all the habits of his brother, and played the kingin such a manner as to awaken no suspicion. He was then completelydressed in his hunting costume when he received his visitors. His ownmemory and the notes of Aramis announced everybody to him, first of allAnne of Austria, to whom Monsieur gave his hand, and then Madame with M.de Saint-Aignan. He smiled at seeing these countenances, but trembled onrecognizing his mother. That figure, so noble, so imposing, ravaged bypain, pleaded in his heart the cause of that 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 himself tolove her likewise, and not to prove a cruel chastisement for her oldage. He contemplated his brother with a tenderness easily to beunderstood. The latter had usurped nothing over him, had cast no shadeover his life. A separate branch, he allowed the stem to rise withoutheeding its elevation or the majesty of its life. Philippe promisedhimself to be a kind brother to this prince, who required nothing butgold to minister to his pleasures. He bowed with a friendly air toSaint-Aignan, who was all reverences and smiles, and tremblingly heldout his hand to Henrietta, his sister-in-law, whose beauty struck him;but he saw in the eyes of that princess an expression of coldness whichwould facilitate, as he thought, their future relations.
"How much more easy," thought he, "it will be to be the brother of thatwoman than her gallant, if she evinces toward me a coldness that mybrother could not have for her, and 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 inspite 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 MonsieurFouquet?"
"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--he is a superior man."
"A surintendant who is never sordid or niggardly," added Monsieur; "andwho 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 toward 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 hedid; and if she thinks proper to come here as she formerly did, to sowdivisions and hatreds under the pretext of begging money--why--"
"Well! what?" said Anne of Austria proudly, herself provoking the storm.
"Well!" replied the young man, firmly, "I will drive Madame de Chevreuseout of my kingdom--and with her all who meddle with secrets andmysteries."
He had not calculated the effect of this terrible speech, or perhaps hewished to judge of the effect of it, like those who, suffering from achronic pain, and seeking to break the monotony of that suffering, touchtheir wound to procure a sharper pang. Anne of Austria was nearfainting; her eyes, open but meaningless, ceased to see for severalseconds; she stretched out her arms toward her other son, who supportedand embraced her without fear of irritating the king.
"Sire," murmured she, "you treat your mother cruelly."
"In what, madame?" replied he. "I am only speaking of Madame deChevreuse; does my mother prefer Madame de Chevreuse to the security ofthe state and to the security of my person? Well, then, madame, I tellyou Madame de Chevreuse is returned to France to borrow money, and thatshe addressed herself 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 allcomplicity with intriguers. Then Madame de Chevreuse sold the secret toM. Colbert, and as she is insatiable, and was not satisfied with havingextorted a hundred thousand crowns from that clerk, she has flown stillhigher, and has endeavored to find still deeper springs. Is that 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 dishonor of some and the ruin of others.If God has suffered certain crimes to be committed, and has concealedthem in the shade of His clemency, I will not permit Madame de Chevreuseto have the power to counteract the designs of God."
The latter part of this speech had so agitated the queen-mother that herson had pity on her. He took her hand and kissed it tenderly; she didnot feel that in that kiss, given in spite of repulsions andbitternesses of the heart, there was a pardon for eight years ofhorrible suffering. Philippe allowed the silence of a moment to swallowthe emotions that had just developed themselves. Then, with a cheerfulsmile:
"We will not go to-day," said he, "I have a plan." And, turning towardthe 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 no ill-will toward M. Fouquet; I only dreaded hisprodigalities."
"We will put that to rights, and will take nothing of the surintendantbut his good qualities."
"What is your majesty looking for?" said Henrietta, seeing the king'seyes constantly turned toward 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 secretly with a mission from the king, he concludedthat the king wished to preserve the secret of it, "Sire," replied he,"does your majesty absolutely require M. d'Herblay to be brought toyou?"
"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 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 wonders."
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 outall the king's wishes. While everybody was seeking M. Fouquet andAramis, the new king quietly continued his experiments, and everybody,family, officers, servants, had not the least suspicion, his air, voice,and manners were so like the king's. On his side, Philippe applying toall countenances the faithful notice and design furnished by hisaccomplice Aramis, conducted himself so as not to give birth to a doubtin the minds of those who surrounded him. Nothing from that time coulddisturb the usurper. With what strange facility had Providence justreversed the most elevated fortune of the world to substitute the mosthumble in its stead! Philippe admired the goodness of God with regard tohimself, and seconded it with all the resources of his admirable nature.But he felt, at times, something like a shadow gliding between him andthe rays of his new glory. Aramis did not appear. The conversation hadlanguished in the royal family; Philippe, preoccupied, forgot to dismisshis brother and Madame Henrietta. The latter were astonished, and began,by degrees, to lose all patience. Anne of Austria stooped toward herson's ear, and addressed some words to him in Spanish. Philippe wascompletely ignorant of that language, and grew pale at this unexpectedobstacle. But, as if the spirit of the imperturbable Aramis had coveredhim with his infallibility, instead of appearing disconcerted, Philipperose. "Well! what?" said Anne of Austria.
"What is all that noise?" said Philippe, turning round toward 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 see so near to him. All eyeswere turned toward the door at which M. Fouquet was expected to enter;but it was not M. Fouquet who entered. A terrible cry resounded from allcorners of the chamber, a painful cry uttered by the king and allpresent. It is not given to men, even to those whose destiny containsthe strangest elements, and accidents the most wonderful, to contemplatea spectacle similar to that which presented itself in the royal chamberat that moment. The half-closed shutters only admitted the entrance ofan uncertain light passing through large velvet curtains lined withsilk. In this soft shade, the eyes were by degrees dilated, and everyone present saw others rather with trust than with positive sight. Therecould not, however, escape, in these circumstances, one of thesurrounding details; and the new object which presented itself appearedas luminous as if it had been enlightened by the sun. So it happenedwith Louis XIV., when he showed himself pale and frowning in the doorwayof the secret stairs. The face of Fouquet appeared behind him, impressedwith sorrow and sternness. The queen-mother, who perceived Louis XIV.,and who held the hand of Philippe, uttered the cry of which we havespoken, as if she had beheld a phantom. Monsieur was bewildered, andkept turning his head, in astonishment, from one to the other. Madamemade a step forward, thinking she saw the form of her brother-in-lawreflected in a glass. And, in fact, the illusion was possible. The twoprinces, both pale as death--for we renounce the hope of being able todescribe the fearful state of Philippe--both trembling, and clenchingtheir hands convulsively, measured each other with their looks, anddarted their eyes, like poniards, into each other. Mute, panting,bending forward, they appeared as if about to spring upon an enemy. Theunheard-of resemblance of countenance, gesture, shape, height, even tothe resemblance of costume, produced by chance--for Louis XIV. had beento the Louvre and put on a violet-colored dress--the perfect analogy ofthe two princes completed the consternation of Anne of Austria. And yetshe did not at once guess the truth. There are misfortunes in life thatno one will accept; people would rather believe in the supernatural andthe impossible. Louis had not reckoned upon these obstacles. He expectedhe had only to appear and be acknowledged. A living sun, he could notendure the suspicion of parity with any one. He did not admit that everytorch should not become darkness at the instant he shone out with hisconquering ray. At the aspect of Philippe, then, he was perhaps moreterrified than any one round him, and his silence, his immobility, were,this time, a concentration and a calm which precede violent explosionsof passion.
But Fouquet! who could 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_, soskillfully got up by the General of the Jesuits, he must be a madenthusiast unworthy of ever again dipping his hands in a political work.And then it was the blood of Louis XIII. which Fouquet was sacrificingto the blood of Louis XIII.; it was to a selfish ambition he wassacrificing a noble ambition; it was to the right of keeping hesacrificed the right of having. The whole extent of his fault wasrevealed to him by the simple sight of the pretender. All which passedin the mind of Fouquet was lost upon the persons present. He had fiveminutes to concentrate his meditations upon this point of the case ofconscience; five minutes, that is to say, five ages, during which thetwo kings and their family scarcely found time to breathe after soterrible a shock. D'Artagnan, leaning against the wall, in front ofFouquet, with his hand to his brow, asked himself the cause of such awonderful prodigy. He could not have said at once why he doubted, but heknew assuredly that he had reason to doubt, and that in this meeting ofthe two Louis XIV.'s lay all the difficulty which during late days hadrendered the conduct of Aramis so suspicious to the musketeer. Theseideas were, however, enveloped in thick veils. The actors in thisassembly seemed to swim in the vapors of a confused waking. SuddenlyLouis XIV., more impatient and more accustomed to command, ran to one ofthe shutters, which he opened, tearing the curtains in his eagerness. Aflood of living light entered the chamber, and made Philippe draw backto the alcove. Louis seized upon this movement with eagerness, andaddressing 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 toward 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 in both head and heart with remorse, shelost her equilibrium. No one aiding her, for all were petrified, shesank back in her fauteuil, breathing a weak, trembling sigh. Louis couldnot endure this spectacle and this affront. He bounded towardD'Artagnan, upon whom the vertigo was beginning to gain, 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 fiber ofobedience. He shook his head, and, without more hesitation, he walkedstraight up to Philippe, upon whose shoulder he laid his hand, saying,"Monsieur, you are my prisoner!"
Philippe did not raise his eyes toward Heaven, nor stir from the spot,where he seemed nailed to the floor, his eye intensely fixed upon theking his brother. He reproached him by a sublime silence with all hismisfortunes past, with all his tortures to come. Against this languageof the soul the king felt he had no power; he cast down his eyes,dragging away precipitately his brother and sister, forgetting hismother sitting motionless within three paces of the son whom she left asecond time to be condemned to death. Philippe approached Anne ofAustria, and said to her, 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. He bowedrespectfully 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. But what is 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 IlesSainte-Marguerite. He will cover his face with an iron vizor, which theprisoner cannot raise without 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, "thisone is quite as much of a king as the other."
"More," replied D'Artagnan. "He only wants you and me."