Ten Years Later

by Alexandre Dumas

  Fouquet, on leaving his house for the second time that day, felt himselfless heavy and less disturbed than might have been expected. He turnedtowards Pellisson, who was meditating in the corner of the carriage somegood arguments against the violent proceedings of Colbert.

  "My dear Pellisson," said Fouquet, "it is a great pity you are not awoman."

  "I think, on the contrary, it is very fortunate," replied Pellisson,"for, monseigneur, I am excessively ugly."

  "Pellisson! Pellisson!" said the superintendent, laughing: "you repeattoo often you are 'ugly,' not to leave people to believe that it givesyou much pain."

  "In fact it does, monseigneur, much pain; there is no man moreunfortunate than I: I was handsome, the smallpox rendered me hideous;I am deprived of a great means of attraction; now, I am your principalclerk or something of that sort; I take great interest in your affairs,and if, at this moment, I were a pretty woman, I could render you animportant service."

  "What?"

  "I would go and find the concierge of the Palais. I would seduce him,for he is a gallant man, extravagantly partial to women; then I wouldget away our two prisoners."

  "I hope to be able to do so myself, although I am not a pretty woman,"replied Fouquet.

  "Granted, monseigneur; but you are compromising yourself very much."

  "Oh!" cried Fouquet, suddenly, with one of those secret transports whichthe generous blood of youth, or the remembrance of some sweet emotion,infuses into the heart. "Oh! I know a woman who will enact the personagewe stand in need of, with the lieutenant-governor of the conciergerie."

  "And, on my part, I know fifty, monseigneur; fifty trumpets, whichwill inform the universe of your generosity, of your devotion to yourfriends, and, consequently, will ruin you sooner or later in ruiningthemselves."

  "I do not speak of such women, Pellisson, I speak of a noble andbeautiful creature who joins to the intelligence and wit of her sex thevalor and coolness of ours; I speak of a woman, handsome enough to makethe walls of a prison bow down to salute her, discreet enough to let noone suspect by whom she has been sent."

  "A treasure!" said Pellisson, "you would make a famous present tomonsieur the governor of the conciergerie! Peste! monseigneur, hemight have his head cut off; but he would, before dying, have had suchhappiness as no man had enjoyed before him."

  "And I add," said Fouquet, "that the concierge of the Palais would nothave his head cut off, for he would receive of me my horses toeffect his escape, and five hundred thousand livres wherewith to livecomfortably in England: I add, that this lady, my friend, would givehim nothing but the horses and the money. Let us go and seek her,Pellisson."

  The superintendent reached forth his hand towards the gold and silkencord placed in the interior of his carriage, but Pellisson stopped him."Monseigneur," said he, "you are going to lose as much time in seekingthis lady as Columbus took to discover the new world. Now, we have buttwo hours in which we can possibly succeed; the concierge once gone tobed, how shall we get at him without making a disturbance? When daylightdawns, how can we conceal our proceedings? Go, go yourself, monseigneur,and do not seek either woman or angel to-night."

  "But, my dear Pellisson, here we are before her door."

  "What! before the angel's door?"

  "Why, yes!"

  "This is the hotel of Madame de Belliere!"

  "Hush!"

  "Ah! Good Lord!" exclaimed Pellisson.

  "What have you to say against her?"

  "Nothing, alas! and it is that which causes my despair. Nothing,absolutely nothing. Why can I not, on the contrary, say ill enough ofher to prevent your going to her?"

  But Fouquet had already given orders to stop, and the carriage wasmotionless. "Prevent me!" cried Fouquet; "why, no power on earth shouldprevent my going to pay my compliments to Madame de Plessis-Belliere,besides, who knows that we shall not stand in need of her!"

  "No, monseigneur no!"

  "But I do not wish you to wait for me, Pellisson," replied Fouquet,sincerely courteous.

  "The more reason I should, monseigneur; knowing that you are keepingme waiting, you will, perhaps, stay a shorter time. Take care! Yousee there is a carriage in the courtyard: she has some one with her."Fouquet leant towards the steps of the carriage. "One word more," criedPellisson; "do not go to this lady till you have been to the concierge,for Heaven's sake!"

  "Eh! five minutes, Pellisson," replied Fouquet, alighting at the stepsof the hotel, leaving Pellisson in the carriage, in a very ill-humor.Fouquet ran upstairs, told his name to the footman, which excited aneagerness and a respect that showed the habit the mistress of the househad of honoring that name in her family. "Monsieur le surintendant,"cried the marquise, advancing, very pale, to meet him; "what an honor!what an unexpected pleasure!" said she. Then, in a low voice, "Takecare!" added the marquise, "Marguerite Vanel is here!"

  "Madame," replied Fouquet, rather agitated, "I came on business. Onesingle word, and quickly, if you please!" And he entered the salon.Madame Vanel had risen, paler, more livid, than Envy herself. Fouquetin vain addressed her, with the most agreeable, most pacific salutation;she only replied by a terrible glance darted at the marquise andFouquet. This keen glance of a jealous woman is a stiletto which piercesevery cuirass; Marguerite Vanel plunged it straight into the hearts ofthe two confidants. She made a courtesy to her friend, a more profoundone to Fouquet, and took leave, under pretense of having a number ofvisits to make, without the marquise trying to prevent her, or Fouquet,a prey to anxiety, thinking further about her. She was scarcely outof the room, and Fouquet left alone with the marquise, before he threwhimself on his knees, without saying a word. "I expected you," said themarquise, with a tender sigh.

  "Oh! no," cried he, "or you would have sent away that woman."

  "She has been here little more than half an hour, and I had noexpectation she would come this evening."

  "You love me just a little, then, marquise?"

  "That is not the question now; it is of your danger; how are youraffairs going on?"

  "I am going this evening to get my friends out of the prisons of thePalais."

  "How will you do that?"

  "By buying and bribing the governor."

  "He is a friend of mine; can I assist you, without injuring you?"

  "Oh! marquise, it would be a signal service; but how can you be employedwithout your being compromised? Now, never shall my life, my power, oreven my liberty, be purchased at the expense of a single tear from youreyes, or of one frown of pain upon your brow."

  "Monseigneur, no more such words, they bewilder me; I have been culpablein trying to serve you, without calculating the extent of what I wasdoing. I love you in reality, as a tender friend; and as a friend, I amgrateful for your delicate attentions--but, alas!--alas! you will neverfind a mistress in me."

  "Marquise!" cried Fouquet, in a tone of despair; "why not?"

  "Because you are too much beloved," said the young woman, in a lowvoice; "because you are too much beloved by too many people--becausethe splendor of glory and fortune wound my eyes, whilst the darknessof sorrow attracts them; because, in short, I, who have repulsed you inyour proud magnificence; I who scarcely looked at you in your splendor,I came, like a mad woman, to throw myself, as it were, into your arms,when I saw a misfortune hovering over your head. You understand me now,monseigneur? Become happy again, that I may remain chaste in heart andin thought; your misfortune entails my ruin."

  "Oh! madame," said Fouquet, with an emotion he had never before felt;"were I to fall to the lowest degree of human misery, and hear from yourmouth that word which you now refuse me, that day, madame, you willbe mistaken in your noble egotism; that day you will fancy you areconsoling the most unfortunate of men, and you will have said, I loveyou, to the most illustrious, the most delighted, the most triumphant ofthe happy beings of this world."

  He was still at her feet, kissing her hand, when Pellisson enteredprecipitately, crying, in very ill-humor, "Monseigneur! madame! forHeaven's sake
! excuse me. Monseigneur, you have been here half an hour.Oh! do not both look at me so reproachfully. Madame, pray who is thatlady who left your house soon after monseigneur came in?"

  "Madame Vanel," said Fouquet.

  "Ha!" cried Pellisson, "I was sure of that."

  "Well! what then?"

  "Why, she got into her carriage, looking deadly pale."

  "What consequence is that to me?"

  "Yes, but what she said to her coachman is of consequence to you."

  "Kind heaven!" cried the marquise, "what was that?"

  "To M. Colbert's!" said Pellisson, in a hoarse voice.

  "Bon Dieu!--begone, begone, monseigneur!" replied the marquise, pushingFouquet out of the salon, whilst Pellisson dragged him by the hand.

  "Am I, then, indeed," said the superintendent, "become a child, to befrightened by a shadow?"

  "You are a giant," said the marquise, "whom a viper is trying to bite inthe heel."

  Pellisson continued to drag Fouquet to the carriage. "To the Palais atfull speed!" cried Pellisson to the coachman. The horses set off likelightning; no obstacle relaxed their pace for an instant. Only, at thearcade Saint-Jean, as they were coming out upon the Place de Greve, along file of horsemen, barring the narrow passage, stopped the carriageof the superintendent. There was no means of forcing this barrier; itwas necessary to wait till the mounted archers of the watch, for it wasthey who stopped the way, had passed with the heavy carriage theywere escorting, and which ascended rapidly towards the Place Baudoyer.Fouquet and Pellisson took no further account of this circumstancebeyond deploring the minute's delay they had thus to submit to. Theyentered the habitation of the concierge du Palais five minutes after.That officer was still walking about in the front court. At the nameof Fouquet, whispered in his ear by Pellisson, the governor eagerlyapproached the carriage, and, hat in his hand, was profuse in hisattentions. "What an honor for me, monseigneur," said he.

  "One word, monsieur le gouverneur, will you take the trouble to get intomy carriage?" The officer placed himself opposite Fouquet in the coach.

  "Monsieur," said Fouquet, "I have a service to ask of you."

  "Speak, monseigneur."

  "A service that will be compromising for you, monsieur, but which willassure to you forever my protection and my friendship."

  "Were it to cast myself into the fire for you, monseigneur, I would doit."

  "That is well," said Fouquet; "what I require is much more simple."

  "That being so, monseigneur, what is it?"

  "To conduct me to the chamber of Messieurs Lyodot and D'Eymeris."

  "Will monseigneur have the kindness to say for what purpose?"

  "I will tell you in their presence, monsieur; at the same time that Iwill give you ample means of palliating this escape."

  "Escape! Why, then, monseigneur does not know?"

  "What?"

  "That Messieurs Lyodot and D'Eymeris are no longer here."

  "Since when?" cried Fouquet, in great agitation.

  "About a quarter of an hour."

  "Whither have they gone, then?"

  "To Vincennes--to the donjon."

  "Who took them from here?"

  "An order from the king."

  "Oh! woe! woe!" exclaimed Fouquet, striking his forehead. "Woe!" andwithout saying a single word more to the governor, he threw himself backin his carriage, despair in his heart, and death on his countenance.

  "Well!" said Pellisson, with great anxiety.

  "Our friends are lost. Colbert is conveying them to the donjon. Theycrossed our very path under the arcade Saint-Jean."

  Pellisson, struck as by a thunderbolt, made no reply. With a singlereproach he would have killed his master. "Where is monseigneur going?"said the footman.

  "Home--to Paris. You, Pellisson, return to Saint-Mande, and bring theAbbe Fouquet to me within an hour. Begone!"

  CHAPTER 60. Plan of Battle