STATE AFFAIRS AND FAMILY AFFAIRS.
On leaving the Bastille, the duke took Helene home, promising to come
and see her as usual in the evening; a promise which Helene would have
estimated all the more highly if she had known that his highness had a
bal masque at Monceaux.
On re-entering the Palais Royal the duke asked for Dubois, and was told
he was in his study, working. The duke entered without allowing himself
to be announced. Dubois was so busy that he did not hear the duke, who
advanced and looked over his shoulder, to see what was occupying him so
intently.
He was writing down names, with notes by the side of each.
"What are you doing there, abbe?" asked the regent.
"Ah! monseigneur, it is you; pardon; I did not hear you."
"I asked what you were doing?"
"Signing the burial tickets for our Breton friends."
"But their fate is not yet decided, and the sentence of the
commission--"
"I know it," said Dubois.
"Is it given, then?"
"No, but I dictated it before they went."
"Do you know that your conduct is odious?"
"Truly, monseigneur, you are insupportable. Manage your family affairs,
and leave state affairs to me."
"Family affairs!"
"Ah! as to those, I hope you are satisfied with me, or you would indeed
be difficult to please. You recommend to me M. de Chanlay, and on your
recommendation I make it a rose-water Bastille to him; sumptuous
repasts, a charming governor. I let him pierce holes in your floors, and
spoil your walls, all which will cost us a great deal to repair. Since
his entrance, it is quite a fete. Dumesnil talks all day through his
chimney, Mademoiselle de Launay fishes with a line through her window,
Pompadour drinks champagne. There is nothing to be said to all this:
these are your family affairs; but in Bretagne you have nothing to see,
and I forbid you to look, monseigneur, unless you have a few more
unknown daughters there, which is possible."
"Dubois! scoundrel!"
"Ah! you think when you have said 'Dubois,' and added 'scoundrel' to my
name, you have done everything. Well, scoundrel as much as you please;
meanwhile, but for the scoundrel you would have been assassinated."
"Well, what then?"
"What then! Hear the statesman! Well, then, I should be hanged, perhaps,
which is a consideration; then Madame de Maintenon would be regent of
France! What a joke! What then, indeed! To think that a philosophic
prince should utter such naivetes! Oh, Marcus Aurelius! was it not he
who said, 'Populos esse demum felices si reges philosophi forent, aut
philosophi reges?' Here is a sample."
Dubois still wrote on.
"Dubois! you do not know this young man."
"What young man?"
"The chevalier."
"Really! you shall present him to me when he is your son-in-law."
"That will be to-morrow, Dubois."
The abbe looked round in astonishment, and looking at the regent, with
his little eyes as wide open as possible--
"Ah, monseigneur, are you mad?" he said.
"No, but he is an honorable man, and you know that they are rare."
"Honorable man! Ah, you have a strange idea of honor."
"Yes; I believe that we differ in our ideas of it."
"What has this honorable man done! Has he poisoned the dagger with which
he meant to assassinate you? for then he would be more than an honorable
man, he would be a saint. We have already St. Jacques Clement, St.
Ravaillac; St. Gaston is wanting in the calendar. Quick, quick,
monseigneur! you who will not ask the pope to give a cardinal's hat to
your minister, ask him to canonize your assassin; and for the first time
in your life you would be logical."
"Dubois, I tell you there are few capable of doing what this young man
has done."
"Peste! that is lucky; if there were ten in France I should certainly
resign."
"I do not speak of what he wished to do, but of what he has done."
"Well, what has he done? I should like to be edified."
"First, he kept his oath to D'Argenson."
"I doubt it not, he is faithful to his word; and but for me would have
kept his word also with Pontcalec, Talhouet, etc."
"Yes, but one was more difficult than the other. He had sworn not to
mention his sentence to any one, and he did not speak of it to his
mistress."
"Nor to you?"
"He spoke of it to me, because I told him that I knew it. He forbade me
to ask anything of the regent, desiring, he said, but one favor."
"And that one?"
"To marry Helene, in order to leave her a fortune and a name."
"Good; he wants to leave your daughter a fortune and a name; he is
polite, at least."
"Do you forget that this is a secret from him?"
"Who knows?"
"Dubois, I do not know in what your hands were steeped the day you were
born, but I know that you sully everything you touch."
"Except conspirators, monseigneur, for it seems to me that there, on the
contrary, I purify. Look at those of Cellamare, how all that affair was
cleared out; Dubois here, Dubois there, I hope the apothecary has
properly purged France from Spain. Well, it shall be the same with
Olivares as with Cellamare. There is now only Bretagne congested; a good
dose, and all will be right."
"Dubois, you would joke with the Gospel."
"Pardieu! I began by that."
The regent rose.
"Come, monseigneur, I was wrong; I forgot you were fasting; let us hear
the end of this story."
"The end is that I promised to ask this favor from the regent, and that
the regent will grant it."
"The regent will commit a folly."
"No, he will only repair a fault."
"Ah, now you find you have a reparation to make to M. de Chanlay."
"Not to him, but to his brother."
"Still better. What have you done to his brother?"
"I took from him the woman he loved."
"Who?"----"Helene's mother."
"Well, that time you were wrong; for if you had let her alone we should
not have had all this tiresome affair on our hands."
"But we have it, and must now get out of it as well as possible."
"Just what I am working at: and when is the marriage to take place?"
"To-morrow."
"In the chapel of the Palais Royal? You shall dress in the costume of a
knight of the order; you shall extend both hands over your son-in-law's
head--one more than he meant to have held over you--it will be very
affecting."
"No, abbe, it shall not be thus; they shall be married in the Bastille,
and I shall be in the chapel where they cannot see me."
"Well, monseigneur, I should like to be with you. I should like to see
the ceremony; I believe these kind of things are very touching."
"No, you would be in the way, and your ugly face would betray my
incognito."
"Your handsome face is still more easy to recognize, monseigneur," said
Dubois, bowing; "there are portraits of Henry the Fourth and Louis the
Fourteenth in the Bastille."
"You flatter me."
"Are you going away, monseigneur?"
"Yes, I have an appointment with De Launay."
"The governor of the Bastille?"
"Yes."
"Go, monseigneur, go."
"Shall I see you to-night at Morceaux?"
"Perhaps."
"Have you a disguise?"
"I have La Jonquiere's dress."
"Oh! that is only fit for the Rue du Bac."
"Monseigneur forgets the Bastille, where it has had some success."
"Well, adieu, abbe."
"Adieu, monseigneur."
When Dubois was left alone he appeared to take some sudden resolution.
He rang the bell, and a servant entered.
"M. de Launay is coming to the regent, watch him, and bring him here
afterward."
The servant retired without a reply, and Dubois resumed his work.
Half an hour afterward the door opened, and the servant announced De
Launay. Dubois gave him a note.
"Read that," said he; "I give you written instructions, that there may
be no pretext for neglecting them."
"Ah, monseigneur," said De Launay, "you would ruin me.".
"How so?"
"To-morrow when it becomes known."
"Who will tell it? will you?"
"No, but monseigneur--"
"Will be enchanted; I answer for him."
"A governor of the Bastille!"
"Do you care to retain the title?"
"Certainly."
"Then do as I tell you."
"'Tis hard, however, to close one's eyes and ears."
"My dear De Launay, go and pay a visit to Dumesnil's chimney and
Pompadour's ceiling."
"Is it possible? You tell me of things I was not at all aware of."
"A proof that I know better than you what goes on in the Bastille; and
if I were to speak of some things you do know, you would be still more
surprised."
"What could you tell me?"
"That a week ago one of the officers of the Bastille, and an important
one too, received fifty thousand francs to let two women pass with--"
"Monsieur, they were--"
"I know who they were, what they went for, and what they did. They were
Mademoiselle de Valois and Mademoiselle de Charolais; they went to see
the Duc de Richelieu, and they eat bon-bons till midnight in the Tour du
Coin, where they intend to pay another visit to-morrow, as they have
already announced to M. de Richelieu."
De Launay turned pale.
"Well," continued Dubois, "do you think if I told these kind of things
to the regent, who is, as you know, greedy of scandal, that a certain M.
de Launay would be long governor of the Bastille? But I shall not say a
word, for we must help each other."
"I am at your orders, monsieur."
"Then I shall find everything ready?"
"I promise you; but not a word to monseigneur."
"That is right, M. de Launay. Adieu!"
"Good," said Dubois, when he was gone; "and now, monseigneur, when you
want to marry your daughter to-morrow there shall be only one thing
missing--your son-in-law."
* * * * *
As Gaston passed on the letter to Dumesnil he heard steps in the
corridor, and, hastily signing to the chevalier not to speak, he put
out the light and began to undress. The governor entered. As it was not
his custom to visit his prisoners at this hour, Gaston saw him with
alarm, and he noticed that as M. de Launay placed his lamp on the table
his hand trembled. The turnkeys withdrew, but the prisoner saw two
soldiers at the door.
"Chevalier," said the governor, "you told me to treat you as a
man--learn that you were condemned yesterday."
"And you have come to tell me," said Gaston, who always gained courage
in the face of danger, "that the hour of my execution is arrived."
"No, monsieur, but it approaches."
"When will it be?"
"May I tell you the truth, chevalier?"
"I shall be most grateful to you."
"To-morrow, at break of day."
"Where?"
"In the yard of the Bastille."
"Thank you; I had hoped, however, that before I died I might have been
the husband of the young girl who was here yesterday."
"Did M. d'Argenson promise you this?"
"No, but he promised to ask the king."
"The king may have refused."
"Does he never grant such favors?"
"'Tis rare, monsieur, but not without a precedent."
"I am a Christian," said Gaston; "I hope I shall be allowed a
confessor."
"He is here."
"May I see him?"
"Directly; at present he is with your accomplice!"
"My accomplice! who?"
"La Jonquiere, who will be executed with you."
"And I had suspected him!" said Gaston.
"Chevalier, you are young to die," said the governor.
"Death does not count years: God bids it strike and it obeys."
"But if one can avert the blow, it is almost a crime not to do so."
"What do you mean? I do not understand."
"I told you that M. d'Argenson gave hopes."
"Enough, monsieur, I have nothing to confess."
At this moment the major knocked at the door and exchanged some words
with the governor.
"Monsieur," said the latter, "Captain la Jonquiere wishes to see you
once more."
"And you refuse it?" said Gaston, with a slight ironical smile.
"On the contrary, I grant it, in the hope that he will be more
reasonable than you, and that he wishes to consult you as to making
confessions."
"If that be his intention, tell him I refuse to come."
"I know nothing of it, monsieur; perhaps he only wishes once again to
see his companion in misfortune."
"In that case, monsieur, I consent."
"Follow me, then."
They found the captain lying on the bed with his clothes in rags.
"I thought the almoner of the Bastille was with you?" said M. de Launay.
"He was, but I sent him away."
"Why so?"
"Because I do not like Jesuits; do you think, morbleu, that I cannot die
properly without a priest?"
"To die properly, monsieur, is not to die bravely, but as a Christian."
"If I had wanted a sermon, I would have kept the priest, but I wanted M.
de Chanlay."
"He is here, monsieur; I refuse nothing to those who have nothing to
hope."
"Ah! chevalier, are you there?" said La Jonquiere, turning round; "you
are welcome."
"Explain," said Gaston; "I see with sorrow that you refuse the
consolations of religion."
"You also! if you say another word, I declare I will turn Huguenot."
"Pardon, captain, but I thought it my duty to advise you to do what I
shall do myself."
"I bear you no ill-will, chevalier; if I were a minister, I would
proclaim religious liberty. Now, M. de Launay," continued he, "you
understand that as the chevalier and I are about to undertake a long
tete-a-tete journey, we have some things to talk over together first."
"I will retire. Chevalier, you have an hour to remain here."
"Thank you, monsieur," said Gaston.
"Well?" said the captain, when they were alone.
"Well," said Gaston, "you were right."
"Yes; but I am exactly like the man who went round Jerusalem crying out
'Woe!' for seven days, and the eighth day a stone thrown from the walls
struck him and killed him."
"Yes, I know that we are to die together."
"Which annoys you a little; does it not?"
"Very much, for I had reason to cling to life."
"Every one has."
"But I above all."
"Then I only know one way."
"Make revelations! never."
"No, but fly with me."
"How! fly with you?"
"Yes, I escape."
"But do you know that our execution is fixed for to-morrow?"
"Therefore I decamp to-night."
"Escape, do you say?"
"Certainly."
"How? where?"
"Open the window."
"Well."
"Shake the middle bar."
"Great God!"
"Does it resist?"
"No, it yields!"
"Very good, it has given me trouble enough, Heaven knows."
"It seems like a dream."
"Do you remember asking me if I did not make holes in anything, like all
the others?"
"Yes, but you replied--"
"That I would tell you another time; was the answer a good one?"
"Excellent; but how to descend?"
"Help me."
"In what?"
"To search my paillasse."
"A ladder of cord!"
"Exactly."
"But how did you get it?"
"I received it with a file in a lark pie the day of my arrival."
"Certainly, you are decidedly a great man."
"I know it; besides that, I am a good man--for I might escape alone."
"And you have thought of me."
"I asked for you, saying that I wished to say adieu to you. I knew I
should entice them to do some act of stupidity."
"Let us make haste, captain."
"On the contrary, let us act slowly and prudently; we have an hour
before us."
"And the sentinels?"
"Bah! it is dark."
"But the moat, which is full of water?"
"It is frozen."
"But the wall?"
"When we are there, will be time enough to think about that."
"Must we fasten the ladder?"
"I want to try if it be solid; I have an affection for my spine, such as
it is, and do not want to break my neck to save it from another fate."
"You are the first captain of the day, La Jonquiere."
"Bah! I have made plenty of others," said La Jonquiere, tying the last
knot in the ladder.
"Is it finished?" asked Gaston.
"Yes."
"Shall I pass first?"
"As you like."
"I like it so."
"Go, then."
"Is it high?"
"Fifteen to eighteen feet."
"A trifle."
"Yes, for you who are young, but it is a different affair for me; be
prudent, I beg."
"Do not be afraid."
Gaston went first, slowly and prudently, followed by La Jonquiere, who
laughed in his sleeve, and grumbled every time he hurt his fingers, or
when the wind shook the cords.
"A nice affair for the successor of Richelieu and Mazarin," he growled
to himself. "It is true I am not yet a cardinal; that saves me."
Gaston touched the water, or rather ice, of the fosse; a moment after,
La Jonquiere was by his side.
"Now follow me," said the latter. On the other side of the moat a ladder
awaited them.
"You have accomplices then?"
"Parbleu! do you think the lark pate came by itself?"
"Who says one cannot escape from the Bastille?" said Gaston joyously.
"My young friend," said Dubois, stopping on the third step, "take my
advice; don't get in there again without me; you might not be as
fortunate the second time as the first."
They continued to mount the wall, on the platform of which a sentinel
walked, but instead of opposing them, he held his hand to La Jonquiere
to assist him, and in three minutes they were on the platform, had drawn
up the ladder, and placed it on the other side of the wall.
The descent was as safely managed, and they found themselves on another
frozen moat.
"Now," said the captain, "we must take away the ladder, that we may not
compromise the poor devil who helped us."
"We are then free?"
"Nearly so," said La Jonquiere.
Gaston, strengthened by this news, took up the ladder on his shoulder.
"Peste, chevalier! the late Hercules was nothing to you, I think."
"Bah!" said Gaston, "at this moment I could carry the Bastille itself."
They went on in silence to a lane in the Faubourg St. Antoine; the
streets were deserted.
"Now, my dear chevalier," said La Jonquiere, "do me the favor to follow
me to the corner of the Faubourg."
"I would follow you to--"
"Not so far, if you please; for safety's sake we will each go our own
way."
"What carriage is that?"
"Mine."
"How! yours?"----"Yes."
"Peste! my dear captain: four horses! you travel like a prince!"
"Three horses; one is for you."
"How! you consent?"
"Pardieu! that is not all."
"What?"
"You have no money?"
"It was taken away."
"Here are fifty louis."
"But, captain--"
"Come, it is Spanish money; take it."
Gaston took the purse, while a postilion unharnessed a horse and led it
to him.
"Now," said Dubois, "where are you going?"
"To Bretagne, to rejoin my companions."
"You are mad, my dear fellow; they are all condemned and may be executed
in two or three days."
"You are right," said Gaston.
"Go to Flanders," said La Jonquiere, "it is a pleasant country; in
fifteen or eighteen hours you can reach the frontier."
"Yes," said Gaston gloomily; "thank you, I know where I shall go."
"Well, good luck to you," said Dubois, getting into his carriage.
"The same to you," said Gaston.
They grasped each other's hands, and then each went his own way.