The Man in the Iron Mask

  Chapter XVII. High Treason.

  The ungovernable fury which took possession of the king at the sight andat the perusal of Fouquet's letter to La Valliere by degrees subsidedinto a feeling of pain and extreme weariness. Youth, invigorated byhealth and lightness of spirits, requiring soon that what it losesshould be immediately restored--youth knows not those endless, sleeplessnights which enable us to realize the fable of the vulture unceasinglyfeeding on Prometheus. In cases where the man of middle life, in hisacquired strength of will and purpose, and the old, in their state ofnatural exhaustion, find incessant augmentation of their bitter sorrow,a young man, surprised by the sudden appearance of misfortune, weakenshimself in sighs, and groans, and tears, directly struggling with hisgrief, and is thereby far sooner overthrown by the inflexible enemy withwhom he is engaged. Once overthrown, his struggles cease. Louis couldnot hold out more than a few minutes, at the end of which he had ceasedto clench his hands, and scorch in fancy with his looks the invisibleobjects of his hatred; he soon ceased to attack with his violentimprecations not M. Fouquet alone, but even La Valliere herself; fromfury he subsided into despair, and from despair to prostration. After hehad thrown himself for a few minutes to and fro convulsively on hisbed, his nerveless arms fell quietly down; his head lay languidly onhis pillow; his limbs, exhausted with excessive emotion, still trembledoccasionally, agitated by muscular contractions; while from his breastfaint and infrequent sighs still issued. Morpheus, the tutelary deity ofthe apartment, towards whom Louis raised his eyes, wearied by his angerand reconciled by his tears, showered down upon him the sleep-inducingpoppies with which his hands are ever filled; so presently the monarchclosed his eyes and fell asleep. Then it seemed to him, as it oftenhappens in that first sleep, so light and gentle, which raises the bodyabove the couch, and the soul above the earth--it seemed to him, we say,as if the god Morpheus, painted on the ceiling, looked at him with eyesresembling human eyes; that something shone brightly, and moved to andfro in the dome above the sleeper; that the crowd of terrible dreamswhich thronged together in his brain, and which were interrupted fora moment, half revealed a human face, with a hand resting against themouth, and in an attitude of deep and absorbed meditation. And strangeenough, too, this man bore so wonderful a resemblance to the kinghimself, that Louis fancied he was looking at his own face reflected ina mirror; with the exception, however, that the face was saddened by afeeling of the profoundest pity. Then it seemed to him as if the domegradually retired, escaping from his gaze, and that the figures andattributes painted by Lebrun became darker and darker as the distancebecame more and more remote. A gentle, easy movement, as regular asthat by which a vessel plunges beneath the waves, had succeeded to theimmovableness of the bed. Doubtless the king was dreaming, and in thisdream the crown of gold, which fastened the curtains together, seemedto recede from his vision, just as the dome, to which it remainedsuspended, had done, so that the winged genius which, with both itshand, supported the crown, seemed, though vainly so, to call upon theking, who was fast disappearing from it. The bed still sunk. Louis,with his eyes open, could not resist the deception of this cruelhallucination. At last, as the light of the royal chamber faded awayinto darkness and gloom, something cold, gloomy, and inexplicable inits nature seemed to infect the air. No paintings, nor gold, nor velvethangings, were visible any longer, nothing but walls of a dull graycolor, which the increasing gloom made darker every moment. And yet thebed still continued to descend, and after a minute, which seemed in itsduration almost an age to the king, it reached a stratum of air, blackand chill as death, and then it stopped. The king could no longer seethe light in his room, except as from the bottom of a well we can seethe light of day. "I am under the influence of some atrocious dream," hethought. "It is time to awaken from it. Come! let me wake."

  Every one has experienced the sensation the above remark conveys; thereis hardly a person who, in the midst of a nightmare whose influence issuffocating, has not said to himself, by the help of that light whichstill burns in the brain when every human light is extinguished, "It isnothing but a dream, after all." This was precisely what Louis XIV. saidto himself; but when he said, "Come, come! wake up," he perceived thatnot only was he already awake, but still more, that he had his eyes openalso. And then he looked all round him. On his right hand and on hisleft two armed men stood in stolid silence, each wrapped in a hugecloak, and the face covered with a mask; one of them held a small lampin his hand, whose glimmering light revealed the saddest picture a kingcould look upon. Louis could not help saying to himself that his dreamstill lasted, and that all he had to do to cause it to disappear wasto move his arms or to say something aloud; he darted from his bed, andfound himself upon the damp, moist ground. Then, addressing himself tothe man who held the lamp in his hand, he said:

  "What is this, monsieur, and what is the meaning of this jest?"

  "It is no jest," replied in a deep voice the masked figure that held thelantern.

  "Do you belong to M. Fouquet?" inquired the king, greatly astonished athis situation.

  "It matters very little to whom we belong," said the phantom; "we areyour masters now, that is sufficient."

  The king, more impatient than intimidated, turned to the other maskedfigure. "If this is a comedy," he said, "you will tell M. Fouquet that Ifind it unseemly and improper, and that I command it should cease."

  The second masked person to whom the king had addressed himself was aman of huge stature and vast circumference. He held himself erect andmotionless as any block of marble. "Well!" added the king, stamping hisfoot, "you do not answer!"

  "We do not answer you, my good monsieur," said the giant, in astentorian voice, "because there is nothing to say."

  "At least, tell me what you want," exclaimed Louis, folding his armswith a passionate gesture.

  "You will know by and by," replied the man who held the lamp.

  "In the meantime tell me where I am."

  "Look."

  Louis looked all round him; but by the light of the lamp which themasked figure raised for the purpose, he could perceive nothing but thedamp walls which glistened here and there with the slimy traces of thesnail. "Oh--oh!--a dungeon," cried the king.

  "No, a subterranean passage."

  "Which leads--?"

  "Will you be good enough to follow us?"

  "I shall not stir from hence!" cried the king.

  "If you are obstinate, my dear young friend," replied the taller of thetwo, "I will lift you up in my arms, and roll you up in your own cloak,and if you should happen to be stifled, why--so much the worse for you."

  As he said this, he disengaged from beneath his cloak a hand of whichMilo of Crotona would have envied him the possession, on the day whenhe had that unhappy idea of rending his last oak. The king dreadedviolence, for he could well believe that the two men into whose power hehad fallen had not gone so far with any idea of drawing back, andthat they would consequently be ready to proceed to extremities, ifnecessary. He shook his head and said: "It seems I have fallen into thehands of a couple of assassins. Move on, then."

  Neither of the men answered a word to this remark. The one who carriedthe lantern walked first, the king followed him, while the second maskedfigure closed the procession. In this manner they passed along a windinggallery of some length, with as many staircases leading out of it asare to be found in the mysterious and gloomy palaces of Ann Radcliffe'screation. All these windings and turnings, during which the king heardthe sound of running water _over his head_, ended at last in a longcorridor closed by an iron door. The figure with the lamp opened thedoor with one of the keys he wore suspended at his girdle, where, duringthe whole of the brief journey, the king had heard them rattle. As soonas the door was opened and admitted the air, Louis recognized the balmyodors that trees exhale in hot summer nights. He paused, hesitatingly,for a moment or two; but the huge sentinel who followed him thrust himout of the subterranean passage.

  "Another blow," said the king, turning towards the on
e who had just hadthe audacity to touch his sovereign; "what do you intend to do with theking of France?"

  "Try to forget that word," replied the man with the lamp, in a tonewhich as little admitted of a reply as one of the famous decrees ofMinos.

  "You deserve to be broken on the wheel for the words that you have justmade use of," said the giant, as he extinguished the lamp his companionhanded to him; "but the king is too kind-hearted."

  Louis, at that threat, made so sudden a movement that it seemed as ifhe meditated flight; but the giant's hand was in a moment placed onhis shoulder, and fixed him motionless where he stood. "But tell me, atleast, where we are going," said the king.

  "Come," replied the former of the two men, with a kind of respect in hismanner, and leading his prisoner towards a carriage which seemed to bein waiting.

  The carriage was completely concealed amid the trees. Two horses, withtheir feet fettered, were fastened by a halter to the lower branches ofa large oak.

  "Get in," said the same man, opening the carriage-door and letting downthe step. The king obeyed, seated himself at the back of the carriage,the padded door of which was shut and locked immediately upon him andhis guide. As for the giant, he cut the fastenings by which the horseswere bound, harnessed them himself, and mounted on the box of thecarriage, which was unoccupied. The carriage set off immediately at aquick trot, turned into the road to Paris, and in the forest of Senartfound a relay of horses fastened to the trees in the same manner thefirst horses had been, and without a postilion. The man on the boxchanged the horses, and continued to follow the road towards Paris withthe same rapidity, so that they entered the city about three o'clock inthe morning. They carriage proceeded along the Faubourg Saint-Antoine,and, after having called out to the sentinel, "By the king's order," thedriver conducted the horses into the circular inclosure of the Bastile,looking out upon the courtyard, called La Cour du Gouvernement. Therethe horses drew up, reeking with sweat, at the flight of steps, and asergeant of the guard ran forward. "Go and wake the governor," said thecoachman in a voice of thunder.

  With the exception of this voice, which might have been heard at theentrance of the Faubourg Saint-Antoine, everything remained as calm inthe carriage as in the prison. Ten minutes afterwards, M. de Baisemeauxappeared in his dressing-gown on the threshold of the door. "What is thematter now?" he asked; "and whom have you brought me there?"

  The man with the lantern opened the carriage-door, and said two or threewords to the one who acted as driver, who immediately got down from hisseat, took up a short musket which he kept under his feet, and placedits muzzle on his prisoner's chest.

  "And fire at once if he speaks!" added aloud the man who alighted fromthe carriage.

  "Very good," replied his companion, without another remark.

  With this recommendation, the person who had accompanied the king in thecarriage ascended the flight of steps, at the top of which the governorwas awaiting him. "Monsieur d'Herblay!" said the latter.

  "Hush!" said Aramis. "Let us go into your room."

  "Good heavens! what brings you here at this hour?"

  "A mistake, my dear Monsieur de Baisemeaux," Aramis replied, quietly."It appears that you were quite right the other day."

  "What about?" inquired the governor.

  "About the order of release, my dear friend."

  "Tell me what you mean, monsieur--no, monseigneur," said the governor,almost suffocated by surprise and terror.

  "It is a very simple affair: you remember, dear M. de Baisemeaux, thatan order of release was sent to you."

  "Yes, for Marchiali."

  "Very good! we both thought that it was for Marchiali?"

  "Certainly; you will recollect, however, that I would not credit it, butthat you compelled me to believe it."

  "Oh! Baisemeaux, my good fellow, what a word to make use of!--stronglyrecommended, that was all."

  "Strongly recommended, yes; strongly recommended to give him up to you;and that you carried him off with you in your carriage."

  "Well, my dear Monsieur de Baisemeaux, it was a mistake; it wasdiscovered at the ministry, so that I now bring you an order from theking to set at liberty Seldon,--that poor Seldon fellow, you know."

  "Seldon! are you sure this time?"

  "Well, read it yourself," added Aramis, handing him the order.

  "Why," said Baisemeaux, "this order is the very same that has alreadypassed through my hands."

  "Indeed?"

  "It is the very one I assured you I saw the other evening. _Parbleu!_ Irecognize it by the blot of ink."

  "I do not know whether it is that; but all I know is, that I bring itfor you."

  "But then, what about the other?"

  "What other?"

  "Marchiali."

  "I have got him here with me."

  "But that is not enough for me. I require a new order to take him backagain."

  "Don't talk such nonsense, my dear Baisemeaux; you talk like a child!Where is the order you received respecting Marchiali?"

  Baisemeaux ran to his iron chest and took it out. Aramis seized holdof it, coolly tore it in four pieces, held them to the lamp, and burntthem. "Good heavens! what are you doing?" exclaimed Baisemeaux, in anextremity of terror.

  "Look at your position quietly, my good governor," said Aramis, withimperturbable self-possession, "and you will see how very simple thewhole affair is. You no longer possess any order justifying Marchiali'srelease."

  "I am a lost man!"

  "Far from it, my good fellow, since I have brought Marchiali back toyou, and all accordingly is just the same as if he had never left."

  "Ah!" said the governor, completely overcome by terror.

  "Plain enough, you see; and you will go and shut him up immediately."

  "I should think so, indeed."

  "And you will hand over this Seldon to me, whose liberation isauthorized by this order. Do you understand?"

  "I--I--"

  "You do understand, I see," said Aramis. "Very good." Baisemeaux clappedhis hands together.

  "But why, at all events, after having taken Marchiali away from me, doyou bring him back again?" cried the unhappy governor, in a paroxysm ofterror, and completely dumbfounded.

  "For a friend such as you are," said Aramis--"for so devoted a servant,I have no secrets;" and he put his mouth close to Baisemeaux's ear, ashe said, in a low tone of voice, "you know the resemblance between thatunfortunate fellow, and--"

  "And the king?--yes!"

  "Very good; the first use that Marchiali made of his liberty was topersist--Can you guess what?"

  "How is it likely I should guess?"

  "To persist in saying that he was king of France; to dress himself up inclothes like those of the king; and then pretend to assume that he wasthe king himself."

  "Gracious heavens!"

  "That is the reason why I have brought him back again, my dear friend.He is mad and lets every one see how mad he is."

  "What is to be done, then?"

  "That is very simple; let no one hold any communication with him. Youunderstand that when his peculiar style of madness came to the king'sears, the king, who had pitied his terrible affliction, and saw thatall his kindness had been repaid by black ingratitude, became perfectlyfurious; so that, now--and remember this very distinctly, dear Monsieurde Baisemeaux, for it concerns you most closely--so that there is now, Irepeat, sentence of death pronounced against all those who may allowhim to communicate with any one else but me or the king himself. Youunderstand, Baisemeaux, sentence of death!"

  "You need not ask me whether I understand."

  "And now, let us go down, and conduct this poor devil back to hisdungeon again, unless you prefer he should come up here."

  "What would be the good of that?"

  "It would be better, perhaps, to enter his name in the prison-book atonce!"

  "Of course, certainly; not a doubt of it."

  "In that case, have him up."

  Baisemeaux ordered the dru
ms to be beaten and the bell to be rung, asa warning to every one to retire, in order to avoid meeting a prisoner,about whom it was desired to observe a certain mystery. Then, when thepassages were free, he went to take the prisoner from the carriage, atwhose breast Porthos, faithful to the directions which had been givenhim, still kept his musket leveled. "Ah! is that you, miserable wretch?"cried the governor, as soon as he perceived the king. "Very good, verygood." And immediately, making the king get out of the carriage, he ledhim, still accompanied by Porthos, who had not taken off his mask, andAramis, who again resumed his, up the stairs, to the second Bertaudiere,and opened the door of the room in which Philippe for six long years hadbemoaned his existence. The king entered the cell without pronouncing asingle word: he faltered in as limp and haggard as a rain-struck lily.Baisemeaux shut the door upon him, turned the key twice in the lock,and then returned to Aramis. "It is quite true," he said, in a low tone,"that he bears a striking resemblance to the king; but less so than yousaid."

  "So that," said Aramis, "you would not have been deceived by thesubstitution of the one for the other?"

  "What a question!"

  "You are a most valuable fellow, Baisemeaux," said Aramis; "and now, setSeldon free."

  "Oh, yes. I was going to forget that. I will go and give orders atonce."

  "Bah! to-morrow will be time enough."

  "To-morrow!--oh, no. This very minute."

  "Well; go off to your affairs, I will go away to mine. But it is quiteunderstood, is it not?"

  "What 'is quite understood'?"

  "That no one is to enter the prisoner's cell, expect with an order fromthe king; an order which I will myself bring."

  "Quite so. Adieu, monseigneur."

  Aramis returned to his companion. "Now, Porthos, my good fellow, backagain to Vaux, and as fast as possible."

  "A man is light and easy enough, when he has faithfully served his king;and, in serving him, saved his country," said Porthos. "The horses willbe as light as if our tissues were constructed of the wind of heaven.So let us be off." And the carriage, lightened of a prisoner, who mightwell be--as he in fact was--very heavy in the sight of Aramis, passedacross the drawbridge of the Bastile, which was raised again immediatelybehind it.