Fouquet had gone to bed, like a man who clings to life, and wishes to
economize, as much as possible, that slender tissue of existence, of
which the shocks and frictions of this world so quickly wear out the
tenuity. D’Artagnan appeared at the door of this chamber, and was
saluted by the superintendent with a very affable “Good day.”
“_Bon jour!_ monseigneur,” replied the musketeer; “how did you get
through the journey?”
“Tolerably well, thank you.”
“And the fever?”
“But poorly. I drink, as you perceive. I am scarcely arrived, and I have
already levied a contribution of _tisane_ upon Nantes.”
“You should sleep first, monseigneur.”
“Eh! _corbleu!_ my dear Monsieur d’Artagnan, I should be very glad to
sleep.”
“Who hinders you?”
“Why, _you_ in the first place.”
“I? Oh, monseigneur!”
“No doubt you do. Is it at Nantes as at Paris? Do you not come in the
king’s name?”
“For Heaven’s sake, monseigneur,” replied the captain, “leave the king
alone! The day on which I shall come on the part of the king, for the
purpose you mean, take my word for it, I will not leave you long in
doubt. You will see me place my hand on my sword, according to the
_ordonnance_, and you will hear my say at once, in ceremonial voice,
‘Monseigneur, in the name of the king, I arrest you!’”
“You promise me that frankness?” said the superintendent.
“Upon my honor! But we have not come to that, believe me.”
“What makes you think that, M. d’Artagnan? For my part, I think quite
the contrary.”
“I have heard speak of nothing of the kind,” replied D’Artagnan.
“Eh! eh!” said Fouquet.
“Indeed, no. You are an agreeable man, in spite of your fever. The king
should not, cannot help loving you, at the bottom of his heart.”
Fouquet’s expression implied doubt. “But M. Colbert?” said he; “does M.
Colbert love me as much as you say?”
“I am not speaking of M. Colbert,” replied D’Artagnan. “He is an
exceptional man. He does not love you; so much is very possible; but,
_mordioux!_ the squirrel can guard himself against the adder with very
little trouble.”
“Do you know that you are speaking to me quite as a friend?” replied
Fouquet; “and that, upon my life! I have never met with a man of your
intelligence, and heart?”
“You are pleased to say so,” replied D’Artagnan. “Why did you wait till
to-day to pay me such a compliment?”
“Blind that we are!” murmured Fouquet.
“Your voice is getting hoarse,” said D’Artagnan; “drink, monseigneur,
drink!” And he offered him a cup of _tisane_, with the most friendly
cordiality; Fouquet took it, and thanked him by a gentle smile. “Such
things only happen to me,” said the musketeer. “I have passed ten years
under your very beard, while you were rolling about tons of gold. You
were clearing an annual pension of four millions; you never observed me;
and you find out there is such a person in the world, just at the moment
you--”
“Just at the moment I am about to fall,” interrupted Fouquet. “That is
true, my dear Monsieur d’Artagnan.”
“I did not say so.”
“But you thought so; and that is the same thing. Well! if I fall,
take my word as truth, I shall not pass a single day without saying
to myself, as I strike my brow, ‘Fool! fool!--stupid mortal! You had a
Monsieur d’Artagnan under your eye and hand, and you did not employ him,
you did not enrich him!’”
“You overwhelm me,” said the captain. “I esteem you greatly.”
“There exists another man, then, who does not think as M. Colbert
thinks,” said the surintendant.
“How this M. Colbert looms up in your imagination! He is worse than
fever!”
“Oh! I have good cause,” said Fouquet. “Judge for yourself.” And he
related the details of the course of the lighters, and the hypocritical
persecution of Colbert. “Is not this a clear sign of my ruin?”
D’Artagnan became very serious. “That is true,” he said. “Yes; it has
an unsavory odor, as M. de Treville used to say.” And he fixed on M.
Fouquet his intelligent and significant look.
“Am I not clearly designated in that, captain? Is not the king bringing
me to Nantes to get me away from Paris, where I have so many creatures,
and to possess himself of Belle-Isle?”
“Where M. d’Herblay is,” added D’Artagnan. Fouquet raised his head. “As
for me, monseigneur,” continued D’Artagnan, “I can assure you the king
has said nothing to me against you.”
“Indeed!”
“The king commanded me to set out for Nantes, it is true; and to say
nothing about it to M. de Gesvres.”
“My friend.”
“To M. de Gesvres, yes, monseigneur,” continued the musketeer, whose eye
s did not cease to speak a language different from the language of his
lips. “The king, moreover, commanded me to take a brigade of musketeers,
which is apparently superfluous, as the country is quite quiet.”
“A brigade!” said Fouquet, raising himself upon his elbow.
“Ninety-six horsemen, yes, monseigneur. The same number as were employed
in arresting MM. de Chalais, de Cinq-Mars, and Montmorency.”
Fouquet pricked up his ears at these words, pronounced without apparent
value. “And what else?” said he.
“Oh! nothing but insignificant orders; such as guarding the castle,
guarding every lodging, allowing none of M. de Gesvres’s guards to
occupy a single post.”
“And as to myself,” cried Fouquet, “what orders had you?”
“As to you, monseigneur?--not the smallest word.”
“Monsieur d’Artagnan, my safety, my honor, perhaps my life are at stake.
You would not deceive me?”
“I?--to what end? Are you threatened? Only there really is an order with
respect to carriages and boats--”
“An order?”
“Yes; but it cannot concern you--a simple measure of police.”
“What is it, captain?--what is it?”
“To forbid all horses or boats to leave Nantes, without a pass, signed
by the king.”
“Great God! but--”
D’Artagnan began to laugh. “All that is not to be put into execution
before the arrival of the king at Nantes. So that you see plainly,
monseigneur, the order in nowise concerns you.”
Fouquet became thoughtful, and D’Artagnan feigned not to observe his
preoccupation. “It is evident, by my thus confiding to you the orders
which have been given to me, that I am friendly towards you, and that I
am trying to prove to you that none of them are directed against you.”
“Without doubt!--without doubt!” said Fouquet, still absent.
“Let us recapitulate,” said the captain, his glance beaming with
earnestness. “A special guard about the castle, in which your lodging is
to be, is it not?”
“Do you know the castle?”
“Ah! monseigneur, a regular prison! The absence of M. de Gesvres, who
has the honor of being one of your friends. The closing of the gates of
the city, and of the river without a pass; but, only when the king shall
have arrived. Please to observe, Monsieur Fouquet, that if, instead of
speaking to man like you, who are one of the first in the kingdom, I
were speaking to a troubled, uneasy conscience--I should compromise
myself forever. What a fine opportunity for any one who wished to be
free! No police, no guards, no orders; the water free, the roads free,
Monsieur d’Artagnan obliged to lend his horses, if required. All this
ought to reassure you, Monsieur Fouquet, for the king would not have
left me thus independent, if he had any sinister designs. In truth,
Monsieur Fouquet, ask me whatever you like, I am at your service; and,
in return, if you will consent to do it, do me a service, that of giving
my compliments to Aramis and Porthos, in case you embark for Belle-Isle,
as you have a right to do without changing your dress, immediately, in
your _robe de chambre_--just as you are.” Saying these words, and with
a profound bow, the musketeer, whose looks had lost none of their
intelligent kindness, left the apartment. He had not reached the steps
of the vestibule, when Fouquet, quite beside himself, hung to the
bell-rope, and shouted, “My horses!--my lighter!” But nobody answered.
The surintendant dressed himself with everything that came to hand.
“Gourville!--Gourville!” cried he, while slipping his watch into
his pocket. And the bell sounded again, whilst Fouquet repeated,
“Gourville!--Gourville!”
Gourville at length appeared, breathless and pale.
“Let us be gone! Let us be gone!” cried Fouquet, as soon as he saw him.
“It is too late!” said the surintendant’s poor friend.
“Too late!--why?”
“Listen!” And they heard the sounds of trumpets and drums in front of
the castle.
“What does that mean, Gourville?”
“It means the king is come, monseigneur.”
“The king!”
“The king, who has ridden double stages, who has killed horses, and who
is eight hours in advance of all our calculations.”
“We are lost!” murmured Fouquet. “Brave D’Artagnan, all is over, thou
has spoken to me too late!”
The king, in fact, was entering the city, which soon resounded with the
cannon from the ramparts, and from a vessel which replied from the lower
parts of the river. Fouquet’s brow darkened; he called his _valets de
chambre_ and dressed in ceremonial costume. From his window, behind the
curtains, he could see the eagerness of the people, and the movement of
a large troop, which had followed the prince. The king was conducted
to the castle with great pomp, and Fouquet saw him dismount under the
portcullis, and say something in the ear of D’Artagnan, who held his
stirrup. D’Artagnan, when the king had passed under the arch, directed
his steps towards the house Fouquet was in; but so slowly, and stopping
so frequently to speak to his musketeers, drawn up like a hedge, that
it might be said he was counting the seconds, or the steps, before
accomplishing his object. Fouquet opened the window to speak to him in
the court.
“Ah!” cried D’Artagnan, on perceiving him, “are you still there,
monseigneur?”
And that word _still_ completed the proof to Fouquet of how much
information and how many useful counsels were contained in the first
visit the musketeer had paid him. The surintendant sighed deeply.
“Good heavens! yes, monsieur,” replied he. “The arrival of the king has
interrupted me in the projects I had formed.”
“Oh, then you know that the king has arrived?”
“Yes, monsieur, I have seen him; and this time you come from him--”
“To inquire after you, monseigneur; and, if your health is not too bad,
to beg you to have the kindness to repair to the castle.”
“Directly, Monsieur d’Artagnan, directly!”
“Ah, _mordioux!_” said the captain, “now the king is come, there is no
more walking for anybody--no more free will; the password governs all
now, you as much as me, me as much as you.”
Fouquet heaved a last sigh, climbed with difficulty into his carriage,
so great was his weakness, and went to the castle, escorted by
D’Artagnan, whose politeness was not less terrifying this time than it
had just before been consoling and cheerful.
Chapter XXXIX. How the King, Louis XIV., Played His Little Part.
As Fouquet was alighting from his carriage, to enter the castle of
Nantes, a man of mean appearance went up to him with marks of the
greatest respect, and gave him a letter. D’Artagnan endeavored to
prevent this man from speaking to Fouquet, and pushed him away, but the
message had been given to the surintendant. Fouquet opened the letter
and read it, and instantly a vague terror, which D’Artagnan did not
fail to penetrate, was painted on the countenance of the first minister.
Fouquet put the paper into the portfolio which he had under his arm, and
passed on towards the king’s apartments. D’Artagnan, through the small
windows made at every landing of the donjon stairs, saw, as he went up
behind Fouquet, the man who had delivered the note, looking round him
on the place and making signs to several persons, who disappeared in the
adjacent streets, after having themselves repeated the signals. Fouquet
was made to wait for a moment on the terrace of which we have spoken,--a
terrace which abutted on the little corridor, at the end of which the
cabinet of the king was located. Here D’Artagnan passed on before the
surintendant, whom, till that time, he had respectfully accompanied, and
entered the royal cabinet.
“Well?” asked Louis XIV., who, on perceiving him, threw on to the table
covered with papers a large green cloth.
“The order is executed, sire.”
“And Fouquet?”
“Monsieur le surintendant follows me,” said D’Artagnan.
“In ten minutes let him be introduced,” said the king, dismissing
D’Artagnan again with a gesture. The latter retired; but had scarcely
reached the corridor at the extremity of which Fouquet was waiting for
him, when he was recalled by the king’s bell.
“Did he not appear astonished?” asked the king.
“Who, sire?”
“_Fouquet_,” replied the king, without saying monsieur, a peculiarity
which confirmed the captain of the musketeers in his suspicions.
“No, sire,” replied he.
“That’s well!” And a second time Louis dismissed D’Artagnan.
Fouquet had not quitted the terrace where he had been left by his guide.
He reperused his note, conceived thus:
“Something is being contrived against you. Perhaps they will not dare to
carry it out at the castle; it will be on your return home. The house
is already surrounded by musketeers. Do not enter. A white horse is in
waiting for you behind the esplanade!”
Fouquet recognized the writing and zeal of Gourville. Not being willing
that, if any evil happened to himself, this paper should compromise a
faithful friend, the surintendant was busy tearing it into a thousand
morsels, spread about by the wind from the balustrade of the terrace.
D’Artagnan found him watching the snowflake fluttering of the last
scraps in space.
“Monsieur,” said he, “the king awaits you.”
Fouquet walked with a deliberate step along the little corridor, where
MM. de Brienne and Rose were at work, whilst the Duc de Saint-Aignan,
seated on a chair, likewise in the corridor, appeared to be waiting
for orders, with feverish impatience, his sword between his legs. It
appeared strange to Fouquet that MM. Brienne, Rose, and de Saint-Aignan,
in general so attentive and obsequious, should scarcely take the least
notice, as he, the surintendant, passed. But how could he expect to find
it otherwise among courtiers, he whom the king no longer called anything
but _Fouquet?_ He raised his head, determined to look every one and
everything bravely in the face, and entered the king’s apartment, where
a little bell, which we already know, had already announced him to his
majesty.
The king, without rising, nodded to him, and with interest: “Well! how
are you, Monsieur Fouquet?” said he.
“I am in a high fever,” replied the surintendant; “but I am at the
king’s service.”
“That is well; the States assemble to-morrow; have you a speech ready?”
Fouquet looked at the king with astonishment. “I have not, sire,”
replied he; “but I will improvise one. I am too well acquainted with
affairs to feel any embarrassment. I have only one question to ask; will
your majesty permit me?”
“Certainly. Ask it.”
“Why did not your majesty do his first minister the honor of giving him
notice of this in Paris?”
“You were ill; I was not willing to fatigue you.”
“Never did a labor--never did an explanation fatigue me, sire; and since
the moment is come for me to demand an explanation of my king--”
“Oh, Monsieur Fouquet! an explanation? An explanation, pray, of what?”
“Of your majesty’s intentions with respect to myself.”
The king blushed. “I have been calumniated,” continued Fouquet, warmly,
“and I feel called upon to adjure the justice of the king to make
inquiries.”
“You say all this to me very uselessly, Monsieur Fouquet; I know what I
know.”
“Your majesty can only know the things that have been told to you; and
I, on my part, have said nothing to you, whilst others have spoken many,
many times--”
“What do you wish to say?” said the king, impatient to put an end to
this embarrassing conversation.
“I will go straight to the facts, sire; and I accuse a certain man of
having injured me in your majesty’s opinion.”
“Nobody has injured you, Monsieur Fouquet.”
“That reply proves to me, sire, that I am right.”
“Monsieur Fouquet, I do not like people to be accused.”
“Not when one is accused?”
“We have already spoken too much about this affair.”
“Your majesty will not allow me to justify myself?”
“I repeat that I do not accuse you.”
Fouquet, with a half-bow, made a step backward. “It is certain,” thought
he, “that he has made up his mind. He alone who cannot go back can show
such obstinacy. Not to see the danger now would be to be blind indeed;
not to shun it would be stupid.” He resumed aloud, “Did your majesty
send for me on business?”
“No, Monsieur Fouquet, but for some advice I wish to give you.”
“I respectfully await it, sire.”
“Rest yourself, Monsieur Fouquet, do not throw away your strength; the
session of the States will be short, and when my secretaries shall
have closed it, I do not wish business to be talked of in France for a
fortnight.”
“Has the king nothing to say to me on the subject of this assembly of
the States?”
“No, Monsieur Fouquet.”
“Not to me, the surintendant of the finances?”
“Rest yourself, I beg you; that is all I have to say to you.”
Fouquet bit his lips and hung his head. He was evidently busy with
some uneasy thought. This uneasiness struck the king. “Are you angry at
having to rest yourself, M. Fouquet?” said he.
“Yes, sire, I am not accustomed to take rest.”
“But you are ill; you must take care of yourself.”
“Your majesty spoke just now of a speech to be pronounced to-morrow.”
His majesty made no reply; this unexpected stroke embarrassed him.
Fouquet felt the weight of this hesitation. He thought he could
read danger in the eyes of the young prince, which fear would but
precipitate. “If I appear frightened, I am lost,” thought he.
The king, on his part, was only uneasy at the alarm of Fouquet. “Has he
a suspicion of anything?” murmured he.
“If his first word is severe,” again thought Fouquet; “if he becomes
angry, or feigns to be angry for the sake of a pretext, how shall I
extricate myself? Let us smooth the declivity a little. Gourville was
right.”
“Sire,” said he, suddenly, “since the goodness of the king watches over
my health to the point of dispensing with my labor, may I not be allowed
to be absent from the council of to-morrow? I could pass the day in
bed, and will entreat the king to grant me his physician, that we may
endeavor to find a remedy against this fearful fever.”
“So be it, Monsieur Fouquet, it shall be as you desire; you shall have
a holiday to-morrow, you shall have the physician, and shall be restored
to health.”
“Thanks!” said Fouquet, bowing. Then, opening his game: “Shall I
not have the happiness of conducting your majesty to my residence of
Belle-Isle?”
And he looked Louis full in the face, to judge of the effect of such a
proposal. The king blushed again.
“Do you know,” replied he, endeavoring to smile, “that you have just
said, ‘My residence of Belle-Isle’?”
“Yes, sire.”
“Well! do you not remember,” continued the king in the same cheerful
tone, “that you gave me Belle-Isle?”
“That is true again, sire. Only, as you have not taken it, you will
doubtless come with me and take possession of it.”
“I mean to do so.”
“That was, besides, your majesty’s intention as well as mine; and I
cannot express to your majesty how happy and proud I have been to see
all the king’s regiments from Paris to help take possession.”
The king stammered out that he did not bring the musketeers for that
alone.
“Oh, I am convinced of that,” said Fouquet, warmly; “your majesty knows
very well that you have nothing to do but to come alone with a cane in
your hand, to bring to the ground all the fortifications of Belle-Isle.”
“_Peste!_” cried the king; “I do not wish those fine fortifications,
which cost so much to build, to fall at all. No, let them stand against
the Dutch and English. You would not guess what I want to see at
Belle-Isle, Monsieur Fouquet; it is the pretty peasants and women of
the lands on the sea-shore, who dance so well, and are so seducing
with their scarlet petticoats! I have heard great boast of your pretty
tenants, monsieur le surintendant; well, let me have a sight of them.”
“Whenever your majesty pleases.”
“Have you any means of transport? It shall be to-morrow, if you like.”
The surintendant felt this stroke, which was not adroit, and replied,
“No, sire; I was ignorant of your majesty’s wish; above all, I was
ignorant of your haste to see Belle-Isle, and I am prepared with
nothing.”
“You have a boat of your own, nevertheless?”
“I have five; but they are all in port, or at Paimboeuf; and to join
them, or bring them hither, would require at least twenty-four hours.
Have I any occasion to send a courier? Must I do so?”
“Wait a little, put an end to the fever,--wait till to-morrow.”
“That is true. Who knows but that by to-morrow we may not have a hundred
other ideas?” replied Fouquet, now perfectly convinced and very pale.
The king started, and stretched his hand out towards his little bell,
but Fouquet prevented his ringing.
“Sire,” said he, “I have an ague--I am trembling with cold. If I remain
a moment longer, I shall most likely faint. I request your majesty’s
permission to go and fling myself beneath the bedclothes.”
“Indeed, you are in a shiver; it is painful to behold! Come, Monsieur
Fouquet, begone! I will send to inquire after you.”
“Your majesty overwhelms me with kindness. In an hour I shall be
better.”
“I will call some one to reconduct you,” said the king.
“As you please, sire; I would gladly take the arm of any one.”
“Monsieur d’Artagnan!” cried the king, ringing his little bell.
“Oh, sire,” interrupted Fouquet, laughing in such a manner as made the
prince feel cold, “would you give me the captain of your musketeers to
take me to my lodgings? An equivocal honor that, sire! A simple footman,
I beg.”
“And why, M. Fouquet? M. d’Artagnan conducts me often, and extremely
well!”
“Yes, but when he conducts you, sire, it is to obey you; whilst me--”
“Go on!”
“If I am obliged to return home supported by the leader of the
musketeers, it would be everywhere said you had had me arrested.”
“Arrested!” replied the king, who became paler than Fouquet
himself,--“arrested! oh!”
“And why should they not say so?” continued Fouquet, still laughing;
“and I would lay a wager there would be people found wicked enough to
laugh at it.” This sally disconcerted the monarch. Fouquet was skillful
enough, or fortunate enough, to make Louis XIV. recoil before the
appearance of the deed he meditated. M. d’Artagnan, when he appeared,
received an order to desire a musketeer to accompany the surintendant.
“Quite unnecessary,” said the latter; “sword for sword; I prefer
Gourville, who is waiting for me below. But that will not prevent me
enjoying the society of M. d’Artagnan. I am glad he will see Belle-Isle,
he is so good a judge of fortifications.”
D’Artagnan bowed, without at all comprehending what was going on.
Fouquet bowed again and left the apartment, affecting all the slowness
of a man who walks with difficulty. When once out of the castle, “I am
saved!” said he. “Oh! yes, disloyal king, you shall see Belle-Isle, but
it shall be when I am no longer there.”
He disappeared, leaving D’Artagnan with the king.
“Captain,” said the king, “you will follow M. Fouquet at the distance of
a hundred paces.”
“Yes, sire.”
“He is going to his lodgings again. You will go with him.”
“Yes, sire.”
“You will arrest him in my name, and will shut him up in a carriage.”
“In a carriage. Well, sire?”
“In such a fashion that he may not, on the road, either converse with
any one or throw notes to people he may meet.”
“That will be rather difficult, sire.”
“Not at all.”
“Pardon me, sire, I cannot stifle M. Fouquet, and if he asks for liberty
to breathe, I cannot prevent him by closing both the windows and
the blinds. He will throw out at the doors all the cries and notes
possible.”
“The case is provided for, Monsieur d’Artagnan; a carriage with a
trellis will obviate both the difficulties you point out.”
“A carriage with an iron trellis!” cried D’Artagnan; “but a carriage
with an iron trellis is not made in half an hour, and your majesty
commands me to go immediately to M. Fouquet’s lodgings.”
“The carriage in question is already made.”
“Ah! that is quite a different thing,” said the captain; “if the
carriage is ready made, very well, then, we have only to set it in
motion.”
“It is ready--and the horses harnessed.”
“Ah!”
“And the coachman, with the outriders, is waiting in the lower court of
the castle.”
D’Artagnan bowed. “There only remains for me to ask your majesty whither
I shall conduct M. Fouquet.”
“To the castle of Angers, at first.”
“Very well, sire.”
“Afterwards we will see.”
“Yes, sire.”
“Monsieur d’Artagnan, one last word: you have remarked that, for making
this capture of M. Fouquet, I have not employed my guards, on which
account M. de Gesvres will be furious.”
“Your majesty does not employ your guards,” said the captain, a little
humiliated, “because you mistrust M. de Gesvres, that is all.”
“That is to say, monsieur, that I have more confidence in you.”
“I know that very well, sire! and it is of no use to make so much of
it.”
“It is only for the sake of arriving at this, monsieur, that if, from
this moment, it should happen that by any chance whatever M. Fouquet
should escape--such chances have been, monsieur--”
“Oh! very often, sire; but for others, not for me.”
“And why not with you?”
“Because I, sire, have, for an instant, wished to save M. Fouquet.”
The king started. “Because,” continued the captain, “I had then a right
to do so, having guessed your majesty’s plan, without you having spoken
to me of it, and that I took an interest in M. Fouquet. Now, was I not
at liberty to show my interest in this man?”
“In truth, monsieur, you do not reassure me with regard to your
services.”
“If I had saved him then, I should have been perfectly innocent; I will
say more, I should have done well, for M. Fouquet is not a bad man. But
he was not willing; his destiny prevailed; he let the hour of liberty
slip by. So much the worse! Now I have orders, I will obey those orders,
and M. Fouquet you may consider as a man arrested. He is at the castle
of Angers, this very M. Fouquet.”
“Oh! you have not got him yet, captain.”
“That concerns me; every one to his trade, sire; only, once more,
reflect! Do you seriously give me orders to arrest M. Fouquet, sire?”
“Yes, a thousand times, yes!”
“In writing, sire, then.”
“Here is the order.”
D’Artagnan read it, bowed to the king, and left the room. From the
height of the terrace he perceived Gourville, who went by with a joyous
air towards the lodgings of M. Fouquet.