CHAPTER XCIII.
THE SHADOW OF M. FOUQUET.
D'Artagnan, still confused and oppressed by the conversation he had justhad with the king, could not resist asking himself if he were really inpossession of his senses; if he were really and truly at Vaux; if he,D'Artagnan, were really the captain of the musketeers and M. Fouquet theowner of the chateau in which Louis XIV. was at that moment partaking ofhis hospitality. These reflections were not those of a drunken man,although everything was in prodigal profusion at Vaux, and thesurintendant's wines had met with a distinguished reception at the fete.The Gascon, however, was a man of calm self-possession; and no soonerdid he touch his bright steel blade, than he knew how to adopt morallythe cold, keen weapon as his guide of action. "Well," he said, as hequitted the royal apartment, "I seem now to be mixed up historicallywith the destinies of the king and of the minister; it will be written,that M. d'Artagnan, a younger son of a Gascon family, placed his hand onthe shoulder of M. Nicolas Fouquet, the surintendant of the finances ofFrance. My descendants, if I have any, will flatter themselves with thedistinction which this arrest will confer, just as the members of the DeLuynes family have done with regard to the estates of the poor Marechald'Ancre. But the question is, to execute the king's directions in aproper manner. Any man would know how to say to M. Fouquet, 'Your sword,monsieur.' But it is not every one who would be able to take care of M.Fouquet without others knowings anything about it. How am I to manage,then, so that M. le Surintendant pass from the height of favor to thedirest disgrace; that Vaux be turned into a dungeon for him; that afterhaving been steeped to his lips, as it were, in all the perfumes andincense of Assuerus, he is transferred to the gallows of Haman; in otherwords, of Enguerrand de Marigny?" And at this reflection, D'Artagnan'sbrow became clouded with perplexity. The musketeer had certain scrupleson the matter, it must be admitted. To deliver up to death (for not adoubt existed that Louis hated Fouquet mortally) the man who had justshown himself so delightful and charming a host in every way, was a realcase of conscience.
"It almost seems," said D'Artagnan to himself, "that if I am not a poor,mean, miserable fellow, I should let M. Fouquet know the opinion theking has about him. Yet, if I betray my master's secret, I shall be afalse-hearted, treacherous knave, a traitor too, a crime provided forand punishable by military laws--so much so, indeed, that twenty times,in former days when wars were rife, I have seen many a miserable fellowstrung up to a tree for doing, in a small degree, what my scruplescounsel me to do to a greater extent now. No, I think that a man of truereadiness of wit ought to get out of this difficulty with more skillthan that. And now, let us admit that I do possess a little readiness ofinvention, it is not at all certain, though; for, after having for fortyyears absorbed so large a quantity, I shall be lucky if there were to bea pistole's worth left." D'Artagnan buried his head in his hands, torehis mustache in sheer vexation, and added, "What can be the reason of M.Fouquet's disgrace? There seem to be three good ones: the first, becauseM. Colbert doesn't like him; the second, because he wished to fall inlove with Mademoiselle de la Valliere; and lastly, because the kinglikes M. Colbert and loves Mademoiselle de la Valliere. Oh! he is a lostman! But shall I put my foot on his neck, I, of all men, when he isfalling a prey to the intrigues of a set of women and clerks? For shame!If he be dangerous, I will lay him low enough; if, however, he be onlypersecuted, I will look on. I have come to such a decisivedetermination, that neither king nor living man shall change my opinion.If Athos were here, he would do as I have done. Therefore, instead ofgoing, cold-bloodedly, up to M. Fouquet, and arresting him off-hand andshutting him up altogether, I will try and conduct myself like a man whounderstands what good manners are. People will talk about it, of course;but they shall talk well of it, I am determined." And D'Artagnan,drawing by a gesture peculiar to himself his shoulder-belt over hisshoulder, went straight off to M. Fouquet, who, after he had taken leaveof his guests, was preparing to retire for the night and to sleeptranquilly after the triumphs of the day.
The air was still perfumed or infected, whichever way it may beconsidered, with the odor of the fireworks. The wax-lights were dyingaway in their sockets, the flowers fell unfastened from the garlands,the groups of dancers and courtiers were separating in the salons.Surrounded by his friends, who complimented him and received hisflattering remarks in return, the surintendant half-closed his weariedeyes. He longed for rest and quiet; he sank upon the bed of laurelswhich had been heaped up for him for so many days past: it might almosthave been said that he seemed bowed beneath the weight of the new debtswhich he had incurred for the purpose of giving the greatest possiblehonor to this fete. Fouquet had just retired to his room, still smiling,but more than half-dead. He could listen to nothing more, he couldhardly keep his eyes open; his bed seemed to possess a fascinating andirresistible attraction for him. The god Morpheus, the presiding deityof the dome painted by Lebrun, had extended his influence over theadjoining rooms, and showered down his most sleep-inducing poppies uponthe master of the house. Fouquet, almost entirely alone, was beingassisted by his valet-de-chambre to undress, when M. d'Artagnan appearedat the entrance of the room. D'Artagnan had never been able to succeedin making himself common at the court; and notwithstanding he was seeneverywhere and on all occasions, he never failed to produce an effectwherever and whenever he made his appearance. Such is the happyprivilege of certain natures, which in that respect resemble eitherthunder or lightning; every one recognizes them; but their appearancenever fails to arouse surprise and astonishment, and whenever they occurthe impression is always left that the last was the loudest or brightestand most violent. "What! M. d'Artagnan?" said Fouquet, who had alreadytaken his right arm out of the sleeve of his doublet.
"At your service," replied the musketeer.
"Come in, my dear M. d'Artagnan."
"Thank you."
"Have you come to criticise the fete? You are ingenious enough in yourcriticisms, I know?"
"By no means."
"Are not your men looked after properly?"
"In every way."
"You are not comfortably lodged, perhaps?"
"Nothing could be better."
"In that case, I have to thank you for being so amiably disposed, and Imust not fail to express my obligations to you for all your flatteringkindness."
These words were as much as to say, "My dear D'Artagnan, pray go to bed,since you have a bed to lie down on, and let me do the same."
D'Artagnan did not seem to understand it.
"Are you going to bed already?" he said to the surintendant.
"Yes; have you anything to say to me?"
"Nothing, monsieur, nothing at all. You sleep in this room, then?"
"Yes; as you see."
"You have given a most charming fete to the king."
"Do you think so?"
"Oh! beautiful!"
"Is the king pleased?"
"Enchanted."
"Did he desire to say as much to me?"
"He would not choose so unworthy a messenger, monseigneur."
"You do not do yourself justice, Monsieur d'Artagnan."
"Is that your bed, there?"
"Yes; but why do you ask? Are you not satisfied with your own?"
"May I speak frankly to you?"
"Most assuredly."
"Well, then, I am not."
Fouquet started; and then replied, "Will you take my room, Monsieurd'Artagnan?"
"What? deprive you of it, monseigneur? never!"
"What am I to do then?"
"Allow me to share yours with you."
Fouquet looked at the musketeer fixedly. "Ah! ah!" he said, "you havejust left the king."
"I have, monseigneur."
"And the king wishes you to pass the night in my room?"
"Monseigneur--"
"Very well, Monsieur d'Artagnan, very well. You are master here."
"I assure you, monseigneur, that I do not wish to abuse--"
Fouquet turned to his valet, and
said, "Leave us." When the man hadleft, he said to D'Artagnan, "You have something to say to me?"
"I?"
"A man of your superior intelligence cannot have come to talk with a manlike myself, at such an hour as the present, without grave motives."
"Do not interrogate me."
"On the contrary. What do you want with me?"
"Nothing more than the pleasure of your society."
"Come into the garden, then," said the surintendant suddenly, "or intothe park."
"No," replied the musketeer hastily, "no."
"Why?"
"The fresh air--"
"Come, admit at once that you arrest me," said the surintendant to thecaptain.
"Never!" said the latter.
"You intend to look after me, then?"
"Yes, monseigneur, I do, upon my honor."
"Upon your honor!--ah! that is quite another thing! so I am to bearrested in my own house."
"Do not say such a thing."
"On the contrary, I will proclaim it aloud."
"If you do so, I shall be compelled to request you to be silent."
"Very good! Violence toward me, and in my own house, too!"
"We do not seem to understand each other at all. Stay a moment; there isa chess-board there; we will have a game, if you have no objection."
"Monsieur d'Artagnan, I am in disgrace, then?"
"Not at all; but--"
"I am prohibited, I suppose, from withdrawing from your sight."
"I do not understand a word you are saying, monseigneur; and if you wishme to withdraw, tell me so."
"My dear Monsieur d'Artagnan, your mode of action is enough to drive memad; I was almost sinking for want of sleep, but you have completelyawakened me."
"I shall never forgive myself, I am sure; and if you wish to reconcileme with myself, why go to sleep in your bed in my presence; I shall bedelighted at it."
"I am under surveillance, I see."
"I will leave the room if you say such a thing as that."
"You are beyond my comprehension."
"Good-night, monseigneur," said D'Artagnan, as he pretended to withdraw.
Fouquet ran after him. "I will not lie down," he said. "Seriously, andsince you refuse to treat me as a man, and since you finesse with me, Iwill try and set you at bay, as a hunter does a wild boar."
"Bah!" cried D'Artagnan, pretending to smile.
"I shall order my horses, and set off for Paris," said Fouquet, soundingthe heart of the captain of the musketeers.
"If that be the case, monseigneur, it is very different."
"You will arrest me, then?"
"No, but I shall go with you."
"That is quite sufficient, Monsieur d'Artagnan," returned Fouquet, in acold tone of voice. "It is not idly that you have acquired yourreputation as a man of intelligence and full of resources; but with methat is quite superfluous. Let us two come to the point. Grant me aservice. Why do you arrest me? What have I done?"
"Oh! I know nothing about what you may have done; but I do not arrestyou, this evening, at least!"
"This evening!" said Fouquet, turning pale, "but to-morrow?"
"It is not to-morrow just yet, monseigneur. Who can ever answer for theto-morrow?"
"Quick, quick, captain! let me speak to M. d'Herblay."
"Alas! that is quite impossible, monseigneur. I have strict orders tosee that you hold no communication with any one."
"With M. d'Herblay, captain--with your friend!"
"Monseigneur, is M. d'Herblay the only person with whom you ought to beprevented holding any communication?"
Fouquet colored, and then assuming an air of resignation, he said, "Youare right, monsieur; you have taught me a lesson that I ought not tohave provoked. A fallen man cannot assert his right to anything, evenfrom those whose fortunes he may have made; for a still greater reason,he cannot claim anything from those to whom he may never have had thehappiness of doing a service."
"Monseigneur!"
"It is perfectly true, M. d'Artagnan; you have always acted in the mostadmirable manner toward me--in such a manner, indeed, as most becomesthe man who is destined to arrest me. You, at least, have never asked meanything."
"Monseigneur," replied the Gascon, touched by his eloquent and nobletone of grief, "will you--I ask it as a favor--pledge me your word as aman of honor that you will not leave this room?"
"What is the use of it, dear M. d'Artagnan, since you keep watch andward over me? Do you suppose that I should struggle against the mostvaliant sword in the kingdom?"
"It is not that at all, monseigneur; but that I am going to look for M.d'Herblay, and, consequently, to leave you alone."
Fouquet uttered a cry of delight and surprise.
"To look for M. d'Herblay! to leave me alone!" he exclaimed, claspinghis hands together.
"Which is M. d'Herblay's room? The blue room, is it not?"
"Yes, my friend, yes."
"Your friend! thank you for that word, monseigneur; you confer it uponme to-day, at least, even if you have never done so before."
"Ah! you have saved me."
"It will take me a good ten minutes to go from hence to the blue room,and to return?" said D'Artagnan.
"Nearly so."
"And then to wake Aramis, who sleeps very soundly when he is asleep, Iput that down at another five minutes; making a total of fifteenminutes' absence. And now, monseigneur, give me your word that you willnot in any way attempt to make your escape, and that when I return Ishall find you here again."
"I give it you, monsieur," replied Fouquet, with an expression of thewarmest and deepest gratitude.
D'Artagnan disappeared. Fouquet looked at him as he quitted the room,waited with a feverish impatience until the door was closed behind him,and as soon as it was shut, flew to his keys, opened two or three secretdoors concealed in various articles of furniture in the room, lookedvainly for certain papers, which doubtless he had left at Saint-Mande,and which he seemed to regret not having found in them; then hurriedlyseizing hold of letters, contracts, paper writings, he heaped them upinto a pile, which he burned in the extremest haste upon the marblehearth of the fireplace, not even taking time to draw from the interiorof it the vases and pots of flowers with which it was filled.
As soon as he had finished, like a man who had just escaped an imminentdanger, and whose strength abandons him as soon as the danger is past,he sank down completely overcome on a couch. When D'Artagnan returned,he found Fouquet in the same position; the worthy musketeer had not theslightest doubt that Fouquet, having given his word, would not eventhink of failing to keep it, but he had thought it most likely thatFouquet would turn his (D'Artagnan's) absence to the best advantage ingetting rid of all the papers, memorandums, and contracts, which mightpossibly render his position, which was even now serious enough, stillmore dangerous than ever. And so, lifting up his head, like a dog whogains the scent, he perceived a certain odor resembling smoke, which hefully relied upon finding in the atmosphere, and having found it, hemade a movement of his head in token of satisfaction. When D'Artagnanhad entered, Fouquet had, on his side, raised his head, and not one ofD'Artagnan's movements had escaped him. And then the looks of the twomen met, and they both saw that they had understood each other withoutexchanging a syllable.
"Well!" asked Fouquet, the first to speak, "and M. d'Herblay?"
"Upon my word, monseigneur," replied D'Artagnan, "M. d'Herblay must bedesperately fond of walks by night, and composing verses by moonlight inthe park of Vaux, with some of your poets, in all probability, for he isnot in his own room."
"What! not in his own room?" cried Fouquet, whose last hope had thusescaped him; for unless he could ascertain in what way the bishop ofVannes could assist him, he perfectly well knew that in reality he couldnot expect assistance from any one but him.
"Or, indeed," continued D'Artagnan, "if he is in his own room, he hasvery good reasons for not answering."
"But surely you did not call him in s
uch a manner that he could haveheard you?"
"You can hardly suppose, monseigneur, that having already exceeded myorders, which forbade me leaving you a single moment--you can hardlysuppose, I say, that I should have been mad enough to rouse the wholehouse and allow myself to be seen in the corridor of the bishop ofVannes, in order that M. Colbert might state with positive certaintythat I gave you time to burn your papers."
"My papers?"
"Of course; at least that is what I should have done in your place; whenany one opens a door for me, I always availed myself of it."
"Yes, yes, and I thank you, for I have availed myself of it."
"And you have done perfectly right. Every man has his own peculiarsecrets, with which others have nothing to do. But let us return toAramis, monseigneur."
"Well, then, I tell you, you could not have called loud enough, orAramis would have heard you."
"However softly any one may call Aramis, monseigneur, Aramis alwayshears when he has an interest in hearing. I repeat what I saidbefore--Aramis was not in his own room, or Aramis had certain reasonsfor not recognizing my voice, of which I am ignorant, and of which youeven may be ignorant yourself, notwithstanding your liege-man is hisgreatness the lord bishop of Vannes."
Fouquet drew a deep sigh, rose from his seat, made three or four turnsin his room, and finished by seating himself, with an expression ofextreme dejection, upon his magnificent bed with velvet hangings andtrimmed with the costliest lace. D'Artagnan looked at Fouquet withfeelings of the deepest and sincerest pity.
"I have seen a good many men arrested in my life," said the musketeer,sadly; "I have seen both M. de Cinq-Mars and M. de Chalais arrested,though I was very young then. I have seen M. de Conde arrested with theprinces; I have seen M. de Retz arrested; I have seen M. Brousselarrested. Stay a moment, monseigneur, it is disagreeable to have to say,but the very one of all those whom you most resemble at this moment wasthat poor fellow Broussel. You were very near doing as he did, puttingyour dinner napkin in your portfolio, and wiping your mouth with yourpapers. Mordioux! Monseigneur Fouquet, a man like you ought not to bedejected in this manner. Suppose your friends saw you."
"Monsieur d'Artagnan," returned the surintendant, with a smile full ofgentleness, "you do not understand me; it is precisely because myfriends do not see me that I am such as you see me now. I do not live,exist even, isolated from others; I am nothing when left to myself.Understand that throughout my whole life I have passed every moment ofmy time in making friends, whom I hoped to render my stay and support.In times of prosperity, all these cheerful, happy voices--and renderedso through and by my means--formed in my honor a concert of praises andkindly actions. In the least disfavor, these humbler voices accompaniedin harmonious accents the murmur of my own heart. Isolation I have neveryet known. Poverty (a phantom I have sometimes beheld, clad in rags,awaiting me at the end of my journey through life)--this poverty hasbeen the specter with which many of my own friends have trifled foryears past, which they poetize and caress, and which has attracted metoward them. Poverty! I accept it, acknowledge it, receive it, as adisinherited sister; for poverty is not solitude, nor exile, norimprisonment. Is it likely I shall ever be poor, with such friends asPellisson, as La Fontaine, as Moliere; with such a mistress as--Oh! ifyou knew how utterly lonely and desolate I feel at this moment, and howyou, who separate me from all I love, seem to resemble the image ofsolitude, of annihilation, and of death itself."
"But I have already told you, Monsieur Fouquet," replied D'Artagnan,moved to the depths of his soul, "that you exaggerate matters a greatdeal too much. The king likes you."
"No, no," said Fouquet, shaking his head.
"M. de Colbert hates you."
"M. de Colbert! What does that matter to me?"
"He will ruin you."
"Oh! I defy him to do that, for I am ruined already."
At this singular confession of the surintendant, D'Artagnan cast hisglance all round the room; and although he did not open his lips,Fouquet understood him so thoroughly, that he added, "What can be donewith such wealth of substance as surrounds us, when a man can no longercultivate his taste for the magnificent? Do you know what good thegreater part of the wealth and the possessions which we rich enjoyconfer upon us? merely to disgust us, by their very splendor even, witheverything which does not equal this splendor. Vaux! you will say, andthe wonders of Vaux! What then? What boot these wonders? If I am ruined,how shall I fill with water the urns which my Naiads bear in their arms,or force the air into the lungs of my Tritons? To be rich enough,Monsieur d'Artagnan, a man must be too rich."
D'Artagnan shook his head.
"Oh! I know very well what you think," replied Fouquet, quickly. "IfVaux were yours, you would sell it, and would purchase an estate in thecountry; an estate which would have woods, orchards, and land attached,and that this estate should be made to support its master. With fortymillions you might--"
"Ten millions," interrupted D'Artagnan.
"Not a million, my dear captain. No one in France is rich enough to givetwo millions for Vaux, and to continue to maintain it as I have done; noone could do it, no one would know how."
"Well," said D'Artagnan, "in any case, a million is not abject misery."
"It is not far from it, my dear monsieur. But you do not understand me.No; I will not sell my residence at Vaux; I will give it to you, if youlike;" and Fouquet accompanied these words with a movement of theshoulders to which it would be impossible to do justice.
"Give it to the king; you will make a better bargain."
"The king does not require me to give it to him," said Fouquet; "he willtake it away from me with the most perfect ease and grace, if it pleasehim to do so; and that is the reason why I should prefer to see itperish. Do you know, Monsieur d'Artagnan, that if the king did nothappen to be under my roof, I would take this candle, go straight to thedome, and set fire to a couple of huge chests of fusees and fireworkswhich are in reserve there, and would reduce my palace to ashes."
"Bah!" said the musketeer, negligently. "At all events, you would not beable to burn the gardens, and that is the best part about the place."
"And yet," resumed Fouquet, thoughtfully, "what was I saying? Greatheavens! burn Vaux! destroy my palace! But Vaux is not mine; thiswealth, these wonderful creations are, it is true, the property, as faras sense of enjoyment goes, of the man who has paid for them; but as faras duration is concerned they belong to those who created them. Vauxbelongs to Lebrun, to Lenotre, to Pellisson, to Levan, to La Fontaine,to Moliere; Vaux belongs to posterity, in fact. You see, Monsieurd'Artagnan, that my very house ceases to be my own."
"That is all well and good," said D'Artagnan; "the idea is agreeableenough, and I recognize M. Fouquet himself in it. That idea, indeed,makes me forget that poor fellow Broussel altogether; and I now fail torecognize in you the whining complaints of that old Frondeur. If you areruined, monsieur, look at the affair manfully, for you, too, mordioux!belong to posterity, and have no right to lessen yourself in any way.Stay a moment, look at me, I who seem to exercise in a degree a kind ofsuperiority over you, because I arrest you; fate, which distributestheir different parts to the comedians of this world, accorded to me aless agreeable and less advantageous part to fill than yours has been;I am one of those who think that the parts which kings and powerfulnobles are called upon to act are infinitely of more worth than theparts of beggars or lackeys. It is far better on the stage--on thestage, I mean, of another theater than the theater of this world--it isfar better to wear a fine coat and to talk fine language, than to walkthe boards shod with a pair of old shoes, or to get one's backbonegently caressed by a sound thrashing with a stick. In one word, you havebeen a prodigal with money, you have ordered and been obeyed--have beensteeped to the lips in enjoyment; while I have dragged my tether afterme, have been commanded and have obeyed, and have drudged my life away.Well! although I may seem of such trifling importance beside you,monseigneur, I do declare to you, that the recollection of what I havedon
e serves me as a spur, and prevents me from bowing my old head toosoon. I shall remain until the very end, a good trooper; and when myturn comes, I shall fall perfectly straight all in a heap, still alive,after having selected my place beforehand. Do as I do, Monsieur Fouquet,you will not find yourself the worse for it; that happens only once in alifetime to men like yourself, and the chief thing is, to do it wellwhen the chance presents itself. There is a Latin proverb--the wordshave escaped me, but I remember the sense of it very well, for I havethought over it more than once, which says, 'The end crowns the work!'"
Fouquet rose from his seat, passed his arm round D'Artagnan's neck andclasped him in a close embrace, while with the other hand he pressed hishand. "An excellent homily," he said after a moment's pause.
"A soldier's, monseigneur."
"You have a regard for me, in telling me all that."
"Perhaps."
Fouquet resumed his pensive attitude once more, and then, a momentafter, he said: "Where can M. d'Herblay be? I dare not ask you to sendfor him."
"You would not ask me, because I would not do it, Monsieur Fouquet.People would learn it, and Aramis, who is not mixed up with the affair,might possibly be compromised and included in your disgrace."
"I will wait here till daylight," said Fouquet.
"Yes; that is best."
"What shall we do when daylight comes?"
"I know nothing at all about it, monseigneur."
"Monsieur D'Artagnan, will you do me a favor?"
"Most willingly."
"You guard me, I remain, you are acting in the full discharge of yourduty, I suppose?"
"Certainly."
"Very good, then; remain as close to me as my shadow, if you like; and Iinfinitely prefer such a shadow to any one else."
D'Artagnan bowed to this compliment.
"But forget that you are Monsieur d'Artagnan, captain of the musketeers;forget that I am Monsieur Fouquet, surintendant of the finances; and letus talk about my affairs."
"That is rather a delicate subject."
"Indeed?"
"Yes; but, for your sake, Monsieur Fouquet, I will do what may almost beregarded as an impossibility."
"Thank you. What did the king say to you?"
"Nothing."
"Ah! is that the way you talk?"
"The deuce!"
"What do you think of my situation?"
"Nothing."
"However, unless you have some ill feeling against me--"
"Your position is a difficult one."
"In what respect?"
"Because you are under your own roof."
"However difficult it may be, yet I understand it very well."
"Do you suppose that, with any one else but yourself, I should haveshown so much frankness?"
"What! so much frankness, do you say? you, who refuse to tell me theslightest thing?"
"At all events, then, so much ceremony and consideration."
"Ah! I have nothing to say in that respect."
"One moment, monseigneur; let me tell you how I should have behavedtoward any one else but yourself. It might be that I happened to arriveat your door just as your guests or your friends had left you--or, ifthey had not yet gone, I should wait until they were leaving, and shouldthen catch them one after the other, like rabbits; I should lock them upquietly enough; I should steal softly along the carpet of your corridor,and with one hand upon you, before you suspected the slightest thingabout it, I should keep you safely until my master's breakfast in themorning. In this way, I should just the same have avoided all publicity,all disturbance, all opposition; but there would also have been nowarning for M. Fouquet, no consideration for his feelings, none of thosedelicate concessions which are shown by persons who are essentiallycourteous in their natures, whenever the decisive moment may arrive. Areyou satisfied with that plan?"
"It makes me shudder."
"I thought you would not like it. It would have been very disagreeableto have made your appearance to-morrow, without any preparation, and tohave asked you to deliver up your sword."
"Oh! monsieur, I should have died from sheer shame and anger."
"Your gratitude is too eloquently expressed. I have not done enough todeserve it, I assure you."
"Most certainly, monsieur, you will never get me to believe that."
"Well, then, monseigneur, if you are satisfied with what I have done,and have somewhat recovered from the shock which I prepared you for asmuch as I possibly could, let us allow the few hours that remain to passaway undisturbed. You are harassed, and require to arrange yourthoughts; I beg you, therefore, to go to sleep, or pretend to go tosleep, either on your bed or in your bed; I shall sleep in thisarmchair; and when I fall asleep, my rest is so sound that a cannonwould not wake me."
Fouquet smiled. "I except, however," continued the musketeer, "the caseof a door being opened, whether a secret door, or any other; or the caseof any one going out of, or coming into the room. For anything likethat, my ear is as quick and sensitive as possible. Any creaking noisemakes me start. It arises, I suppose, from a natural antipathy toanything of the kind. Move about as much as you like; walk up and downin any part of the room; write, efface, destroy, burn--nothing like thatwill prevent me from going to sleep, or even prevent me from snoring;but do not touch either the key or the handle of the door! for I shouldstart up in a moment, and that would shake my nerves terribly."
"Monsieur d'Artagnan," said Fouquet, "you are certainly the most wittyand the most courteous man I ever met with; and you will leave me onlyone regret, that of having made your acquaintance so late."
D'Artagnan drew a deep sigh, which seemed to say, "Alas! you haveperhaps made it too soon." He then settled himself in his armchair,while Fouquet, half lying on his bed and leaning on his arm, wasmeditating upon his adventure. In this way, both of them, leaving thecandles burning, awaited the first dawn of day; and when Fouquethappened to sigh too loudly, D'Artagnan only snored the louder. Not asingle visit, not even from Aramis, disturbed their quietude; not asound even was heard throughout the vast palace. Outside, however, theguards of honor on duty, and the patrols of the musketeers, paced up anddown; and the sound of their feet could be heard on the gravel walks. Itseemed to act as an additional soporific for the sleepers; while themurmuring of the wind through the trees, and the unceasing music of thefountains, whose waters fell tumbling into the basins, still went onuninterruptedly, without being disturbed at the slight noises andmatters of trifling moment which constitute the life and death of humannature.
The Vicomte de Bragelonne Page 94
