Chapter XV. 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. Nothing but amusement and delight wasallowed to prevail throughout the whole of the following day; therewas 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." Fullof preoccupation, 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 Night's Entertainments" seemed to bereproduced for his especial amusement--the king, we say, showed himselfcold, reserved, and taciturn. Nothing could smooth the frowns uponhis face; every one 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 that increaseits body, was keenly alive in the depths of the king's heart. Towardsthe middle 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 he was expecting would not be long before itwas 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 nothave done 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 andthe promenade, cards and dice were introduced. The king won a thousandpistoles, and, having won them, put them in his pocket, and then rose,saying, "And now, gentlemen, to the park." He found the ladies of thecourt were already there. The king, we have before observed, had won athousand pistoles, and had put them in his pocket; but M. Fouquet hadsomehow contrived to lose ten thousand, so that among the courtiersthere was still left a hundred and ninety thousand francs' profit todivide, a circumstance which made the countenances of the courtiers andthe officers of the king's household the most joyous countenances inthe world. It was not the same, however, with the king's face; for,notwithstanding his success at play, to which he was by no meansinsensible, there still remained a slight shade of dissatisfaction.Colbert was waiting for or upon him at the corner of one of the avenues;he was most probably waiting there in consequence of a rendezvous whichhad been given him by the king, as Louis XIV., who had avoided him, orwho had seemed to avoid him, suddenly made him a sign, and they thenstruck into the depths of the park together. But La Valliere, too, hadobserved the king's gloomy aspect and kindling glances; she had remarkedthis--and as nothing which lay hidden or smoldering in his heartwas hidden from the gaze of her affection, she understood that thisrepressed wrath menaced some one; she prepared to withstand the currentof his vengeance, and intercede like an angel of mercy. Overcome bysadness, nervously agitated, deeply distressed at having been so longseparated from her lover, disturbed at the sight of the emotion shehad divined, she accordingly presented herself to the king with anembarrassed aspect, which in his then disposition of mind the kinginterpreted unfavorably. Then, as they were alone--nearly alone,inasmuch as Colbert, as soon as he perceived the young girl approaching,had stopped and drawn back a dozen paces--the king advanced towardsLa Valliere and took her by the hand. "Mademoiselle," he said to her,"should I be guilty of an indiscretion if I were to inquire if you wereindisposed? for you seem to breathe as if you were oppressed by somesecret cause of uneasiness, and your eyes are filled with 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 themonarch of these wide domains. Oh!" he continued, clenching his handsand teeth, "when I think that this king--"
"Well, sire?" said Louise, terrified.
"--That this king is a faithless, unworthy servant, who grows proud andself-sufficient upon the strength of property that belongs to me, andwhich he has stolen. And therefore I am about to change this impudentminister's _fete_ into sorrow and mourning, of which the nymph of Vaux,as the poets 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 assistance 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 lay some dark, hidden, tortuous intriguebehind these thirteen millions of francs; and he wished that thepure heart of La Valliere, which had revolted at the idea of theftor robbery, should approve--even were it only by a single word--theresolution he had taken, and which, nevertheless, he hesitated beforecarrying 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 mere abuse ofconfidence."
"Speak, speak, Colbert; and when you have related it, leave us, and goand 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 as 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 are defending me?"
"Sire, you would dishonor yourself if you were to give such an order."
"Dishonor myself!" murmured the king, turning pale with anger. "In plaintruth, mademoiselle, you show a strange persistence in what you say."
"If I do, sire, my only motive is that of serving your majesty," repliedthe noble-hearted girl: "for that I would risk, I would sacrifice myvery life, without the least 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 theking acts well, whether, in doing so, he does either myself or thosewho belong to me an injury, I have nothing to say; but were the king toconfer a be
nefit 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, monseigneur, 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 least of allhis servants. But whoso touches his honor assails 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 believe he has, because the king has said so; and,from the moment the king said, 'I think so,' I have no occasion forother lips to say, 'I affirm it.' But, were M. Fouquet the vilest ofmen, I should say aloud, 'M. Fouquet's person is sacred to the kingbecause he is the guest of M. Fouquet. Were his house a den of thieves,were Vaux a cave of coiners or robbers, his home is sacred, his palaceis inviolable, since his wife is living in it; and that is an asylumwhich even executioners would 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?"
"Should he escape, and take 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, comparedwith such unnecessary misery and 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, aha, old fox!--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 fumbled among the papers in hispocket-book and drew out of it a paper folded in the form of a letter,somewhat yellow, perhaps, but one that must have been most precious,since the intendant smiled as he looked at it; he then bent a look, fullof hatred, upon the charming group which the young girl and the kingformed together--a group revealed but 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, crumpling itin his hand, as he did so; and at the same moment the torches arrived,inundating the blackness of the scene with a flood of light as bight asday.