The Man in the Iron Mask

  Chapter III. Who Messire Jean Percerin Was.

  The king's tailor, Messire Jean Percerin, occupied a rather large housein the Rue St. Honore, near the Rue de l'Arbre Sec. He was a manof great taste in elegant stuffs, embroideries, and velvets, beinghereditary tailor to the king. The preferment of his house reached asfar back as the time of Charles IX.; from whose reign dated, as we know,fancy in _bravery_ difficult enough to gratify. The Percerin of thatperiod was a Huguenot, like Ambrose Pare, and had been spared by theQueen of Navarre, the beautiful Margot, as they used to write and say,too, in those days; because, in sooth, he was the only one who couldmake for her those wonderful riding-habits which she so loved to wear,seeing that they were marvelously well suited to hide certain anatomicaldefects, which the Queen of Navarre used very studiously to conceal.Percerin being saved, made, out of gratitude, some beautiful blackbodices, very inexpensively indeed, for Queen Catherine, who ended bybeing pleased at the preservation of a Huguenot people, on whom she hadlong looked with detestation. But Percerin was a very prudent man;and having heard it said that there was no more dangerous sign for aProtestant than to be smiled up on by Catherine, and having observedthat her smiles were more frequent than usual, he speedily turnedCatholic with all his family; and having thus become irreproachable,attained the lofty position of master tailor to the Crown of France.Under Henry III., gay king as he was, this position was as grand as theheight of one of the loftiest peaks of the Cordilleras. Now Percerin hadbeen a clever man all his life, and by way of keeping up his reputationbeyond the grave, took very good care not to make a bad death of it, andso contrived to die very skillfully; and that at the very moment he felthis powers of invention declining. He left a son and a daughter, bothworthy of the name they were called upon to bear; the son, a cutter asunerring and exact as the square rule; the daughter, apt at embroidery,and at designing ornaments. The marriage of Henry IV. and Marie deMedici, and the exquisite court-mourning for the afore-mentioned queen,together with a few words let fall by M. de Bassompiere, king of the_beaux_ of the period, made the fortune of the second generation ofPercerins. M. Concino Concini, and his wife Galligai, who subsequentlyshone at the French court, sought to Italianize the fashion, andintroduced some Florentine tailors; but Percerin, touched to thequick in his patriotism and his self-esteem, entirely defeated theseforeigners, and that so well that Concino was the first to give up hiscompatriots, and held the French tailor in such esteem that he wouldnever employ any other, and thus wore a doublet of his on the very daythat Vitry blew out his brains with a pistol at the Pont du Louvre.

  And so it was a doublet issuing from M. Percerin's workshop, which theParisians rejoiced in hacking into so many pieces with the living humanbody it contained. Notwithstanding the favor Concino Concini had shownPercerin, the king, Louis XIII., had the generosity to bear no malice tohis tailor, and to retain him in his service. At the time that Louis theJust afforded this great example of equity, Percerin had brought up twosons, one of whom made his _debut_ at the marriage of Anne of Austria,invented that admirable Spanish costume, in which Richelieu danced asaraband, made the costumes for the tragedy of "Mirame," and stitchedon to Buckingham's mantle those famous pearls which were destined tobe scattered about the pavements of the Louvre. A man becomes easilynotable who has made the dresses of a Duke of Buckingham, a M. deCinq-Mars, a Mademoiselle Ninon, a M. de Beaufort, and a Marion deLorme. And thus Percerin the third had attained the summit of his glorywhen his father died. This same Percerin III., old, famous and wealthy,yet further dressed Louis XIV.; and having no son, which was a greatcause of sorrow to him, seeing that with himself his dynasty would end,he had brought up several hopeful pupils. He possessed a carriage,a country house, men-servants the tallest in Paris; and by specialauthority from Louis XIV., a pack of hounds. He worked for MM. de Lyonneand Letellier, under a sort of patronage; but politic man as he was, andversed in state secrets, he never succeeded in fitting M. Colbert. Thisis beyond explanation; it is a matter for guessing or for intuition.Great geniuses of every kind live on unseen, intangible ideas; they actwithout themselves knowing why. The great Percerin (for, contrary tothe rule of dynasties, it was, above all, the last of the Percerins whodeserved the name of Great), the great Percerin was inspired when he cuta robe for the queen, or a coat for the king; he could mount a mantlefor Monsieur, the clock of a stocking for Madame; but, in spite of hissupreme talent, he could never hit off anything approaching a creditablefit for M. Colbert. "That man," he used often to say, "is beyond my art;my needle can never dot him down." We need scarcely say that Percerinwas M. Fouquet's tailor, and that the superintendent highly esteemedhim. M. Percerin was nearly eighty years old, nevertheless still fresh,and at the same time so dry, the courtiers used to say, that he waspositively brittle. His renown and his fortune were great enough forM. le Prince, that king of fops, to take his arm when talking over thefashions; and for those least eager to pay never to dare to leave theiraccounts in arrear with him; for Master Percerin would for the firsttime make clothes upon credit, but the second never, unless paid for theformer order.

  It is easy to see at once that a tailor of such renown, instead ofrunning after customers, made difficulties about obliging any freshones. And so Percerin declined to fit _bourgeois_, or those who had butrecently obtained patents of nobility. A story used to circulate thateven M. de Mazarin, in exchange for Percerin supplying him with a fullsuit of ceremonial vestments as cardinal, one fine day slipped lettersof nobility into his pocket.

  It was to the house of this grand llama of tailors that D'Artagnantook the despairing Porthos; who, as they were going along, said to hisfriend, "Take care, my good D'Artagnan, not to compromise the dignityof a man such as I am with the arrogance of this Percerin, who will, Iexpect, be very impertinent; for I give you notice, my friend, that ifhe is wanting in respect I will infallibly chastise him."

  "Presented by me," replied D'Artagnan, "you have nothing to fear, eventhough you were what you are not."

  "Ah! 'tis because--"

  "What? Have you anything against Percerin, Porthos?"

  "I think that I once sent Mouston to a fellow of that name."

  "And then?"

  "The fellow refused to supply me."

  "Oh, a misunderstanding, no doubt, which it will be now exceedingly easyto set right. Mouston must have made a mistake."

  "Perhaps."

  "He has confused the names."

  "Possibly. That rascal Mouston never can remember names."

  "I will take it all upon myself."

  "Very good."

  "Stop the carriage, Porthos; here we are."

  "Here! how here? We are at the Halles; and you told me the house was atthe corner of the Rue de l'Arbre Sec."

  "'Tis true, but look."

  "Well, I do look, and I see--"

  "What?"

  "_Pardieu!_ that we are at the Halles!"

  "You do not, I suppose, want our horses to clamber up on the roof of thecarriage in front of us?"

  "No."

  "Nor the carriage in front of us to mount on top of the one in front ofit. Nor that the second should be driven over the roofs of the thirty orforty others which have arrived before us."

  "No, you are right, indeed. What a number of people! And what are theyall about?"

  "'Tis very simple. They are waiting their turn."

  "Bah! Have the comedians of the Hotel de Bourgogne shifted theirquarters?"

  "No; their turn to obtain an entrance to M. Percerin's house."

  "And we are going to wait too?"

  "Oh, we shall show ourselves prompter and not so proud."

  "What are we to do, then?"

  "Get down, pass through the footmen and lackeys, and enter the tailor'shouse, which I will answer for our doing, if you go first."

  "Come along, then," said Porthos.

  They accordingly alighted and made their way on foot towards theestablishment. The cause of the confusion was that M. Percerin's doorswere closed, while a serva
nt, standing before them, was explaining tothe illustrious customers of the illustrious tailor that just then M.Percerin could not receive anybody. It was bruited about outside still,on the authority of what the great lackey had told some great noble whomhe favored, in confidence, that M. Percerin was engaged on five costumesfor the king, and that, owing to the urgency of the case, he wasmeditating in his office on the ornaments, colors, and cut of these fivesuits. Some, contented with this reason, went away again, contentedto repeat the tale to others, but others, more tenacious, insistedon having the doors opened, and among these last three Blue Ribbons,intended to take parts in a ballet, which would inevitably fail unlessthe said three had their costumes shaped by the very hand of the greatPercerin himself. D'Artagnan, pushing on Porthos, who scattered thegroups of people right and left, succeeded in gaining the counter,behind which the journeyman tailors were doing their best to answerqueries. (We forgot to mention that at the door they wanted to putoff Porthos like the rest, but D'Artagnan, showing himself, pronouncedmerely these words, "The king's order," and was let in with his friend.)The poor fellows had enough to do, and did their best, to reply to thedemands of the customers in the absence of their master, leavingoff drawing a stitch to knit a sentence; and when wounded pride, ordisappointed expectation, brought down upon them too cutting a rebuke,he who was attacked made a dive and disappeared under the counter.The line of discontented lords formed a truly remarkable picture. Ourcaptain of musketeers, a man of sure and rapid observation, took it allin at a glance; and having run over the groups, his eye rested on a manin front of him. This man, seated upon a stool, scarcely showed his headabove the counter that sheltered him. He was about forty years of age,with a melancholy aspect, pale face, and soft luminous eyes. He waslooking at D'Artagnan and the rest, with his chin resting upon his hand,like a calm and inquiring amateur. Only on perceiving, and doubtlessrecognizing, our captain, he pulled his hat down over his eyes. It wasthis action, perhaps, that attracted D'Artagnan's attention. If so,the gentleman who had pulled down his hat produced an effect entirelydifferent from what he had desired. In other respects his costume wasplain, and his hair evenly cut enough for customers, who were not closeobservers, to take him for a mere tailor's apprentice, perched behindthe board, and carefully stitching cloth or velvet. Nevertheless, thisman held up his head too often to be very productively employed with hisfingers. D'Artagnan was not deceived,--not he; and he saw at once thatif this man was working at anything, it certainly was not at velvet.

  "Eh!" said he, addressing this man, "and so you have become a tailor'sboy, Monsieur Moliere!"

  "Hush, M. d'Artagnan!" replied the man, softly, "you will make themrecognize me."

  "Well, and what harm?"

  "The fact is, there is no harm, but--"

  "You were going to say there is no good in doing it either, is it notso?"

  "Alas! no; for I was occupied in examining some excellent figures."

  "Go on--go on, Monsieur Moliere. I quite understand the interest youtake in the plates--I will not disturb your studies."

  "Thank you."

  "But on one condition; that you tell me where M. Percerin really is."

  "Oh! willingly; in his own room. Only--"

  "Only that one can't enter it?"

  "Unapproachable."

  "For everybody?"

  "Everybody. He brought me here so that I might be at my ease to make myobservations, and then he went away."

  "Well, my dear Monsieur Moliere, but you will go and tell him I amhere."

  "I!" exclaimed Moliere, in the tone of a courageous dog, from whichyou snatch the bone it has legitimately gained; "I disturb myself! Ah!Monsieur d'Artagnan, how hard you are upon me!"

  "If you don't go directly and tell M. Percerin that I am here, my dearMoliere," said D'Artagnan, in a low tone, "I warn you of one thing: thatI won't exhibit to you the friend I have brought with me."

  Moliere indicated Porthos by an imperceptible gesture, "This gentleman,is it not?"

  "Yes."

  Moliere fixed upon Porthos one of those looks which penetrate the mindsand hearts of men. The subject doubtless appeared a very promising one,for he immediately rose and led the way into the adjoining chamber.