Chapter VIII. The General of the Order.
There was now a brief silence, during which Aramis never removed hiseyes from Baisemeaux for a moment. The latter seemed only half decidedto disturb himself thus in the middle of supper, and it was clear he wastrying to invent some pretext, whether good or bad, for delay, at anyrate till after dessert. And it appeared also that he had hit upon anexcuse at last.
"Eh! but it is impossible!" he cried.
"How impossible?" said Aramis. "Give me a glimpse of thisimpossibility."
"'Tis impossible to set a prisoner at liberty at such an hour. Where canhe go to, a man so unacquainted with Paris?"
"He will find a place wherever he can."
"You see, now, one might as well set a blind man free!"
"I have a carriage, and will take him wherever he wishes."
"You have an answer for everything. Francois, tell monsieur le major togo and open the cell of M. Seldon, No. 3, Bertaudiere."
"Seldon!" exclaimed Aramis, very naturally. "You said Seldon, I think?"
"I said Seldon, of course. 'Tis the name of the man they set free."
"Oh! you mean to say Marchiali?" said Aramis.
"Marchiali? oh! yes, indeed. No, no, Seldon."
"I think you are making a mistake, Monsieur Baisemeaux."
"I have read the order."
"And I also."
"And I saw 'Seldon' in letters as large as that," and Baisemeaux held uphis finger.
"And I read 'Marchiali' in characters as large as this," said Aramis,also holding up two fingers.
"To the proof; let us throw a light on the matter," said Baisemeaux,confident he was right. "There is the paper, you have only to read it."
"I read 'Marchiali,'" returned Aramis, spreading out the paper. "Look."
Baisemeaux looked, and his arms dropped suddenly. "Yes, yes," he said,quite overwhelmed; "yes, Marchiali. 'Tis plainly written Marchiali!Quite true!"
"Ah!--"
"How? the man of whom we have talked so much? The man whom they areevery day telling me to take such care of?"
"There is 'Marchiali,'" repeated the inflexible Aramis.
"I must own it, monseigneur. But I understand nothing about it."
"You believe your eyes, at any rate."
"To tell me very plainly there is 'Marchiali.'"
"And in a good handwriting, too."
"'Tis a wonder! I still see this order and the name of Seldon, Irishman.I see it. Ah! I even recollect that under this name there was a blot ofink."
"No, there is no ink; no, there is no blot."
"Oh! but there was, though; I know it, because I rubbed my finger--thisvery one--in the powder that was over the blot."
"In a word, be it how it may, dear M. Baisemeaux," said Aramis, "andwhatever you may have seen, the order is signed to release Marchiali,blot or no blot."
"The order is signed to release Marchiali," replied Baisemeaux,mechanically, endeavoring to regain his courage.
"And you are going to release this prisoner. If your heart dictates youto deliver Seldon also, I declare to you I will not oppose it the leastin the world." Aramis accompanied this remark with a smile, the irony ofwhich effectually dispelled Baisemeaux's confusion of mind, and restoredhis courage.
"Monseigneur," he said, "this Marchiali is the very same prisoner whomthe other day a priest confessor of _our order_ came to visit in soimperious and so secret a manner."
"I don't know that, monsieur," replied the bishop.
"'Tis no such long time ago, dear Monsieur d'Herblay."
"It is true. But _with us_, monsieur, it is good that the man of to-dayshould no longer know what the man of yesterday did."
"In any case," said Baisemeaux, "the visit of the Jesuit confessor musthave given happiness to this man."
Aramis made no reply, but recommenced eating and drinking. As forBaisemeaux, no longer touching anything that was on the table, he againtook up the order and examined it every way. This investigation, underordinary circumstances, would have made the ears of the impatient Aramisburn with anger; but the bishop of Vannes did not become incensed forso little, above all, when he had murmured to himself that to do so wasdangerous. "Are you going to release Marchiali?" he said. "What mellow,fragrant and delicious sherry this is, my dear governor."
"Monseigneur," replied Baisemeaux, "I shall release the prisonerMarchiali when I have summoned the courier who brought the order, andabove all, when, by interrogating him, I have satisfied myself."
"The order is sealed, and the courier is ignorant of the contents. Whatdo you want to satisfy yourself about?"
"Be it so, monseigneur; but I shall send to the ministry, and M. deLyonne will either confirm or withdraw the order."
"What is the good of all that?" asked Aramis, coldly.
"What good?"
"Yes; what is your object, I ask?"
"The object of never deceiving oneself, monseigneur; nor being wantingin the respect which a subaltern owes to his superior officers, norinfringing the duties of a service one has accepted of one's own freewill."
"Very good; you have just spoken so eloquently, that I cannot but admireyou. It is true that a subaltern owes respect to his superiors; heis guilty when he deceives himself, and he should be punished if heinfringed either the duties or laws of his office."
Baisemeaux looked at the bishop with astonishment.
"It follows," pursued Aramis, "that you are going to ask advice, to putyour conscience at ease in the matter?"
"Yes, monseigneur."
"And if a superior officer gives you orders, you will obey?"
"Never doubt it, monseigneur."
"You know the king's signature well, M. de Baisemeaux?"
"Yes, monseigneur."
"Is it not on this order of release?"
"It is true, but it may--"
"Be forged, you mean?"
"That is evident, monseigneur."
"You are right. And that of M. de Lyonne?"
"I see it plain enough on the order; but for the same reason that theking's signature may have been forged, so also, and with even greaterprobability, may M. de Lyonne's."
"Your logic has the stride of a giant, M. de Baisemeaux," said Aramis;"and your reasoning is irresistible. But on what special grounds do youbase your idea that these signatures are false?"
"On this: the absence of counter-signatures. Nothing checks hismajesty's signature; and M. de Lyonne is not there to tell me he hassigned."
"Well, Monsieur de Baisemeaux," said Aramis, bending an eagle glance onthe governor, "I adopt so frankly your doubts, and your mode of clearingthem up, that I will take a pen, if you will give me one."
Baisemeaux gave him a pen.
"And a sheet of white paper," added Aramis.
Baisemeaux handed him some paper.
"Now, I--I, also--I, here present--incontestably, I--am going to writean order to which I am certain you will give credence, incredulous asyou are!"
Baisemeaux turned pale at this icy assurance of manner. It seemed tohim that the voice of the bishop's, but just now so playful and gay, hadbecome funereal and sad; that the wax lights changed into the tapers ofa mortuary chapel, the very glasses of wine into chalices of blood.
Aramis took a pen and wrote. Baisemeaux, in terror, read over hisshoulder.
"A. M. D. G.," wrote the bishop; and he drew a cross under these fourletters, which signify _ad majorem Dei gloriam_, "to the greater gloryof God;" and thus he continued: "It is our pleasure that the orderbrought to M. de Baisemeaux de Montlezun, governor, for the king, ofthe castle of the Bastile, be held by him good and effectual, and beimmediately carried into operation."
(Signed) D'HERBLAY
"General of the Order, by the grace of God."
Baisemeaux was so profoundly astonished, that his features remainedcontracted, his lips parted, and his eyes fixed. He did not move aninch, nor articulate a sound. Nothing could be heard in that largechamber but the wing-whisper of a little moth
, which was fluttering toits death about the candles. Aramis, without even deigning to look atthe man whom he had reduced to so miserable a condition, drew from hispocket a small case of black wax; he sealed the letter, and stamped itwith a seal suspended at his breast, beneath his doublet, and when theoperation was concluded, presented--still in silence--the missive to M.de Baisemeaux. The latter, whose hands trembled in a manner to excitepity, turned a dull and meaningless gaze upon the letter. A last gleamof feeling played over his features, and he fell, as if thunder-struck,on a chair.
"Come, come," said Aramis, after a long silence, during which thegovernor of the Bastile had slowly recovered his senses, "do not leadme to believe, dear Baisemeaux, that the presence of the general of theorder is as terrible as His, and that men die merely from having seenHim. Take courage, rouse yourself; give me your hand--obey."
Baisemeaux, reassured, if not satisfied, obeyed, kissed Aramis's hand,and rose. "Immediately?" he murmured.
"Oh, there is no pressing haste, my host; take your place again, and dothe honors over this beautiful dessert."
"Monseigneur, I shall never recover such a shock as this; I who havelaughed, who have jested with you! I who have dared to treat you on afooting of equality!"
"Say nothing about it, old comrade," replied the bishop, who perceivedhow strained the cord was and how dangerous it would have been to breakit; "say nothing about it. Let us each live in our own way; to you,my protection and my friendship; to me, your obedience. Having exactlyfulfilled these two requirements, let us live happily."
Baisemeaux reflected; he perceived, at a glance, the consequence of thiswithdrawal of a prisoner by means of a forged order; and, putting in thescale the guarantee offered him by the official order of the general,did not consider it of any value.
Aramis divined this. "My dear Baisemeaux," said he, "you are asimpleton. Lose this habit of reflection when I give myself the troubleto think for you."
And at another gesture he made, Baisemeaux bowed again. "How shall I setabout it?" he said.
"What is the process for releasing a prisoner?"
"I have the regulations."
"Well, then, follow the regulations, my friend."
"I go with my major to the prisoner's room, and conduct him, if he is apersonage of importance."
"But this Marchiali is not an important personage," said Aramiscarelessly.
"I don't know," answered the governor, as if he would have said, "It isfor you to instruct me."
"Then if you don't know it, I am right; so act towards Marchiali as youact towards one of obscure station."
"Good; the regulations so provide. They are to the effect that theturnkey, or one of the lower officials, shall bring the prisoner beforethe governor, in the office."
"Well, 'tis very wise, that; and then?"
"Then we return to the prisoner the valuables he wore at the time of hisimprisonment, his clothes and papers, if the minister's orders have nototherwise dictated."
"What was the minister's order as to this Marchiali?"
"Nothing; for the unhappy man arrived here without jewels, withoutpapers, and almost without clothes."
"See how simple, then, all is. Indeed, Baisemeaux, you make a mountainof everything. Remain here, and make them bring the prisoner to thegovernor's house."
Baisemeaux obeyed. He summoned his lieutenant, and gave him an order,which the latter passed on, without disturbing himself about it, to thenext whom it concerned.
Half an hour afterwards they heard a gate shut in the court; it was thedoor to the dungeon, which had just rendered up its prey to the freeair. Aramis blew out all the candles which lighted the room but one,which he left burning behind the door. This flickering glare preventedthe sight from resting steadily on any object. It multiplied tenfold thechanging forms and shadows of the place, by its wavering uncertainty.Steps drew near.
"Go and meet your men," said Aramis to Baisemeaux.
The governor obeyed. The sergeant and turnkeys disappeared. Baisemeauxre-entered, followed by a prisoner. Aramis had placed himself in theshade; he saw without being seen. Baisemeaux, in an agitated tone ofvoice, made the young man acquainted with the order which set him atliberty. The prisoner listened, without making a single gesture orsaying a word.
"You will swear ('tis the regulation that requires it)," added thegovernor, "never to reveal anything that you have seen or heard in theBastile."
The prisoner perceived a crucifix; he stretched out his hands and sworewith his lips. "And now, monsieur, you are free. Whither do you intendgoing?"
The prisoner turned his head, as if looking behind him for someprotection, on which he ought to rely. Then was it that Aramis came outof the shade: "I am here," he said, "to render the gentleman whateverservice he may please to ask."
The prisoner slightly reddened, and, without hesitation, passed his armthrough that of Aramis. "God have you in his holy keeping," he said, ina voice the firmness of which made the governor tremble as much as theform of the blessing astonished him.
Aramis, on shaking hands with Baisemeaux, said to him; "Does my ordertrouble you? Do you fear their finding it here, should they come tosearch?"
"I desire to keep it, monseigneur," said Baisemeaux. "If they found ithere, it would be a certain indication I should be lost, and in thatcase you would be a powerful and a last auxiliary for me."
"Being your accomplice, you mean?" answered Aramis, shrugging hisshoulders. "Adieu, Baisemeaux," said he.
The horses were in waiting, making each rusty spring reverberate thecarriage again with their impatience. Baisemeaux accompanied the bishopto the bottom of the steps. Aramis caused his companion to mount beforehim, then followed, and without giving the driver any further order, "Goon," said he. The carriage rattled over the pavement of the courtyard.An officer with a torch went before the horses, and gave orders atevery post to let them pass. During the time taken in opening all thebarriers, Aramis barely breathed, and you might have heard his "sealedheart knock against his ribs." The prisoner, buried in a corner of thecarriage, made no more sign of life than his companion. At length, ajolt more sever than the others announced to them that they had clearedthe last watercourse. Behind the carriage closed the last gate, thatin the Rue St. Antoine. No more walls either on the right or the left;heaven everywhere, liberty everywhere, and life everywhere. The horses,kept in check by a vigorous hand, went quietly as far as the middle ofthe faubourg. There they began to trot. Little by little, whether theywere warming to their work, or whether they were urged, they gained inswiftness, and once past Bercy, the carriage seemed to fly, so great wasthe ardor of the coursers. The horses galloped thus as far as VilleneuveSt. George's, where relays were waiting. Then four instead of twowhirled the carriage away in the direction of Melun, and pulled up fora moment in the middle of the forest of Senart. No doubt the order hadbeen given the postilion beforehand, for Aramis had no occasion even tomake a sign.
"What is the matter?" asked the prisoner, as if waking from a longdream.
"The matter is, monseigneur," said Aramis, "that before going further,it is necessary your royal highness and I should converse."
"I will await an opportunity, monsieur," answered the young prince.
"We could not have a better, monseigneur. We are in the middle of aforest, and no one can hear us."
"The postilion?"
"The postilion of this relay is deaf and dumb, monseigneur."
"I am at your service, M. d'Herblay."
"Is it your pleasure to remain in the carriage?"
"Yes; we are comfortably seated, and I like this carriage, for it hasrestored me to liberty."
"Wait, monseigneur; there is yet a precaution to be taken."
"What?"
"We are here on the highway; cavaliers or carriages travelinglike ourselves might pass, and seeing us stopping, deem us in somedifficulty. Let us avoid offers of assistance, which would embarrassus."
"Give the postilion orders to conceal the carriage in one of
the sideavenues."
"'Tis exactly what I wished to do, monseigneur."
Aramis made a sign to the deaf and dumb driver of the carriage, whomhe touched on the arm. The latter dismounted, took the leaders by thebridle, and led them over the velvet sward and the mossy grass of awinding alley, at the bottom of which, on this moonless night, the deepshades formed a curtain blacker than ink. This done, the man lay downon a slope near his horses, who, on either side, kept nibbling the youngoak shoots.
"I am listening," said the young prince to Aramis; "but what are youdoing there?"
"I am disarming myself of my pistols, of which we have no further need,monseigneur."