Ten Years Later

by Alexandre Dumas

  Fouquet was present, as D'Artagnan had said, at the king's card-table.It seemed as if Buckingham's departure had shed a balm on the laceratedhearts of the previous evening. Monsieur, radiant with delight, made athousand affectionate signs to his mother. The Count de Guiche could notseparate himself from Buckingham and while playing, conversed with himupon the circumstance of his projected voyage. Buckingham, thoughtful,and kind in his manner, like a man who has adopted a resolution,listened to the count, and from time to time cast a look full of regretand hopeless affection at Madame. The princess, in the midst of herelation of spirits, divided her attention between the king, who wasplaying with her, Monsieur, who quietly joked her about her enormouswinnings, and De Guiche, who exhibited an extravagant delight. OfBuckingham she took but little notice; for her, this fugitive, thisexile, was now simply a remembrance, no longer a man. Light hearts arethus constituted; while they themselves continue untouched, they roughlybreak off with every one who may possibly interfere with their littlecalculations of selfish comfort. Madame had received Buckingham's smilesand attentions and sighs while he was present; but what was the goodof sighing, smiling and kneeling at a distance? Can one tell in whatdirection the winds in the Channel, which toss mighty vessels to andfro, carry such sighs as these. The duke could not fail to mark thischange, and his heart was cruelly hurt. Of a sensitive character, proudand susceptible of deep attachment, he cursed the day on which such apassion had entered his heart. The looks he cast, from time to timeat Madame, became colder by degrees at the chilling complexion of histhoughts. He could hardly yet despair, but he was strong enough toimpose silence upon the tumultuous outcries of his heart. In exactproportion, however, as Madame suspected this change of feeling, sheredoubled her activity to regain the ray of light she was about to lose;her timid and indecisive mind was displayed in brilliant flashes ofwit and humor. At any cost she felt that she must be remarked aboveeverything and every one, even above the king himself. And she was so,for the queens, notwithstanding their dignity, and the king, despite therespect which etiquette required, were all eclipsed by her. The queens,stately and ceremonious, were softened and could not restrain theirlaughter. Madame Henrietta, the queen-mother, was dazzled by thebrilliancy which cast distinction upon her family, thanks to the wit ofthe grand-daughter of Henry IV. The king, jealous, as a young man andas a monarch, of the superiority of those who surrounded him, could notresist admitting himself vanquished by a petulance so thoroughly Frenchin its nature, whose energy was more than ever increased by Englishhumor. Like a child, he was captivated by her radiant beauty, which herwit made still more dazzling. Madame's eyes flashed like lightning. Witand humor escaped from her scarlet lips, like persuasion from the lipsof Nestor of old. The whole court, subdued by her enchanting grace,noticed for the first time that laughter could be indulged in before thegreatest monarch in the world, like people who merited their appellationof the wittiest and most polished people in Europe.

  Madame, from that evening, achieved and enjoyed a success capable ofbewildering all not born to those altitudes termed thrones; which, inspite of their elevation, are sheltered from such giddiness. From thatvery moment Louis XIV. acknowledged Madame as a person to be recognized.Buckingham regarded her as a coquette deserving the cruelest tortures,and De Guiche looked upon her as a divinity; the courtiers as a starwhose light might some day become the focus of all favor and power. Andyet Louis XIV., a few years previously, had not even condescended tooffer his hand to that "ugly girl" for a ballet; and Buckingham hadworshipped this coquette "on both knees." De Guiche had once looked uponthis divinity as a mere woman; and the courtiers had not dared to extolthis star in her upward progress, fearful to disgust the monarch whomsuch a dull star had formerly displeased.

  Let us see what was taking place during this memorable evening at theking's card-table. The young queen, although Spanish by birth, and theniece of Anne of Austria, loved the king, and could not conceal heraffection. Anne of Austria, a keen observer, like all women, andimperious, like every queen, was sensible of Madame's power, andacquiesced in it immediately, a circumstance which induced the youngqueen to raise the siege and retire to her apartments. The king hardlypaid any attention to her departure, notwithstanding the pretendedsymptoms of indisposition by which it was accompanied. Encouraged by therules of etiquette, which he had begun to introduce at the court as anelement of every relation of life, Louis XIV. did not disturb himself;he offered his hand to Madame without looking at Monsieur his brother,and led the young princess to the door of her apartments. It wasremarked that at the threshold of the door, his majesty, freed fromevery restraint, or not equal to the situation, sighed very deeply.The ladies present--for nothing escapes a woman's glance--MademoiselleMontalais, for instance--did not fail to say to each other, "the kingsighed," and "Madame sighed too." This had been indeed the case. Madamehad sighed very noiselessly, but with an accompaniment very far moredangerous for the king's repose. Madame had sighed, first closing herbeautiful black eyes, next opening them, and then, laden, as they were,with an indescribable mournfulness of expression, she had raised themtowards the king, whose face at that moment visibly heightened in color.The consequence of these blushes, of these interchanged sighs, and ofthis royal agitation, was, that Montalais had committed an indiscretionwhich had certainly affected her companion, for Mademoiselle de laValliere, less clear sighted, perhaps, turned pale when the kingblushed; and her attendance being required upon Madame, she tremblinglyfollowed the princess without thinking of taking the gloves, which courtetiquette required her to do. True it is that this young country girlmight allege as her excuse the agitation into which the king seemed tobe thrown, for Mademoiselle de la Valliere, busily engaged in closingthe door, had involuntarily fixed her eyes upon the king, who, as heretired backwards, had his face towards it. The king returned to theroom where the card-tables were set out. He wished to speak to thedifferent persons there, but it was easy to see that his mind wasabsent. He jumbled different accounts together, which was takenadvantage of by some of the noblemen who had retained those habits sincethe time of Monsieur Mazarin--who had a poor memory, but was a goodcalculator. In this way Monsieur Manicamp, with a thoughtless and absentair--for M. Manicamp was the honestest man in the world appropriatedtwenty thousand francs, which were littering the table, and whichdid not seem to belong to any person in particular. In the same way,Monsieur de Wardes, whose head was doubtless a little bewildered by theoccurrences of the evening, somehow forgot to leave behind him the sixtydouble louis which he had won for the Duke of Buckingham, and which theduke, incapable, like his father, of soiling his hands with coin of anysort, had left lying on the table before him. The king only recoveredhis attention in some degree at the moment that Monsieur Colbert,who had been narrowly observant for some minutes, approached, and,doubtless, with great respect, yet with much perseverance, whispered acounsel of some sort into the still tingling ears of the king. Theking, at the suggestion, listened with renewed attention and immediatelylooking around him, said, "Is Monsieur Fouquet no longer here?"

  "Yes, sire, I am here," replied the superintendent, till then engagedwith Buckingham, and approached the king, who advanced a step towardshim with a smiling yet negligent air. "Forgive me," said Louis, "if Iinterrupt your conversation; but I claim your attention wherever I mayrequire your services."

  "I am always at the king's service," replied Fouquet.

  "And your cash-box too," said the king, laughing with a false smile.

  "My cash-box more than anything else," said Fouquet, coldly.

  "The fact is, I wish to give a fete at Fontainebleau--to keep open housefor fifteen days, and I shall require----" and he stopped glancingat Colbert. Fouquet waited without showing discomposure; and the kingresumed, answering Colbert's icy smile, "four million francs."

  "Four million," repeated Fouquet, bowing profoundly. And his nails,buried in his bosom, were thrust into his flesh, but the tranquilexpression of his face remained unaltered. "When will they be required
,sire?"

  "Take your time,--I mean--no, no, as soon as possible."

  "A certain time will be necessary, sire."

  "Time!" exclaimed Colbert, triumphantly.

  "The time, monsieur," said the superintendent, with the haughtiestdisdain, "simply to count the money: a million can only be drawn andweighed in a day."

  "Four days then," said Colbert.

  "My clerks," replied Fouquet, addressing himself to the king, "willperform wonders on his majesty's service, and the sum shall be ready inthree days."

  It was for Colbert now to turn pale. Louis looked at him astonished.Fouquet withdrew without any parade or weakness, smiling at his numerousfriends, in whose countenances alone he read the sincerity of theirfriendship--an interest partaking of compassion. Fouquet, however,should not be judged by his smile, for, in reality he felt as if he hadbeen stricken by death. Drops of blood beneath his coat stained the finelinen that clothed his chest. His dress concealed the blood, and hissmile the rage which devoured him. His domestics perceived, by themanner in which he approached his carriage, that their master was not inthe best of humors: the result of their discernment was, that his orderswere executed with that exactitude of maneuver which is found on boarda man-of-war, commanded during a storm by an ill-tempered captain. Thecarriage, therefore, did not simply roll along--it flew. Fouquet hadhardly time to recover himself during the drive; on his arrival hewent at once to Aramis, who had not yet retired for the night. As forPorthos, he had supped very agreeably off a roast leg of mutton, twopheasants, and a perfect heap of cray-fish; he then directed his body tobe anointed with perfumed oils, in the manner of the wrestlers ofold; and when this anointment was completed, he had himself wrapped inflannels and placed in a warm bed. Aramis, as we have already said,had not retired. Seated at his ease in a velvet dressing-gown, he wroteletter after letter in that fine and hurried handwriting, a page ofwhich contained a quarter of a volume. The door was thrown hurriedlyopen, and the superintendent appeared, pale, agitated, anxious. Aramislooked up: "Good-evening," said he, and his searching look detected hishost's sadness and disordered state of mind. "Was your play as good ashis majesty's?" asked Aramis, by way of beginning the conversation.

  Fouquet threw himself upon a couch, and then pointed to the door tothe servant who had followed him; when the servant had left he said,"Excellent."

  Aramis, who had followed every movement with his eyes, noticed that hestretched himself upon the cushions with a sort of feverish impatience."You have lost as usual?" inquired Aramis, his pen still in his hand.

  "Even more than usual," replied Fouquet.

  "You know how to support losses?"

  "Sometimes."

  "What, Monsieur Fouquet a bad player!"

  "There is play and play, Monsieur d'Herblay."

  "How much have you lost?" inquired Aramis, with a slight uneasiness.

  Fouquet collected himself a moment, and then, without the slightestemotion, said, "The evening has cost me four millions," and a bitterlaugh drowned the last vibration of these words.

  Aramis, who did not expect such an amount, dropped his pen. "Fourmillions," he said; "you have lost four millions,--impossible!"

  "Monsieur Colbert held my cards for me," replied the superintendent,with a similar bitter laugh.

  "Ah, now I understand; so, so, a new application for funds?"

  "Yes, and from the king's own lips. It was impossible to ruin a man witha more charming smile. What do you think of it?"

  "It is clear that your destruction is the object in view."

  "That is your opinion?"

  "Still. Besides, there is nothing in it which should astonish you, forwe have foreseen it all along."

  "Yes; but I did not expect four millions."

  "No doubt the amount is serious, but, after all, four millions arenot quite the death of a man, especially when the man in question isMonsieur Fouquet."

  "My dear D'Herblay, if you knew the contents of my coffers, you would beless easy."

  "And you promised?"

  "What could I do?"

  "That's true."

  "The very day I refuse, Colbert will procure the money; whence I knownot, but he will procure it: and I shall be lost."

  "There is no doubt of that. In how many days did you promise these fourmillions?"

  "In three days. The king seemed exceedingly pressed."

  "In three days?"

  "When I think," resumed Fouquet, "that just now as I passed along thestreets, the people cried out, 'There is the rich Monsieur Fouquet,' itis enough to turn my brain."

  "Stay, monsieur, the matter is not worth so much trouble," said Aramis,calmly, sprinkling some sand over the letter he had just written.

  "Suggest a remedy, then, for this evil without a remedy."

  "There is only one remedy for you,--pay."

  "But it is very uncertain whether I have the money. Everything must beexhausted; Belle-Isle is paid for; the pension has been paid; and money,since the investigation of the accounts of those who farm the revenue,is scarce. Besides, admitting that I pay this time, how can I do so onanother occasion? When kings have tasted money, they are like tigerswho have tasted flesh, they devour everything. The day will arrive--mustarrive--when I shall have to say, 'Impossible, sire,' and on that veryday I am a lost man."

  Aramis raised his shoulders slightly, saying:

  "A man in your position, my lord, is only lost when he wishes to be so."

  "A man, whatever his position may be, cannot hope to struggle against aking."

  "Nonsense; when I was young I wrestled successfully with the CardinalRichelieu, who was king of France,--nay more--cardinal."

  "Where are my armies, my troops, my treasures? I have not evenBelle-Isle."

  "Bah! necessity is the mother of invention, and when you think all islost, something will be discovered which will retrieve everything."

  "Who will discover this wonderful something?"

  "Yourself."

  "I! I resign my office of inventor."

  "Then I will."

  "Be it so. But set to work without delay."

  "Oh! we have time enough!"

  "You kill me, D'Herblay, with your calmness," said the superintendent,passing his handkerchief over his face.

  "Do you not remember that I one day told you not to make yourselfuneasy, if you possessed courage? Have you any?"

  "I believe so."

  "Then don't make yourself uneasy."

  "It is decided, then, that, at the last moment, you will come to myassistance."

  "It will only be the repayment of a debt I owe you."

  "It is the vocation of financiers to anticipate the wants of men such asyourself, D'Herblay."

  "If obligingness is the vocation of financiers, charity is the virtueof the clergy. Only, on this occasion, do you act, monsieur. You are notyet sufficiently reduced, and at the last moment we will see what is tobe done."

  "We shall see, then, in a very short time."

  "Very well. However, permit me to tell you that, personally, I regretexceedingly that you are at present so short of money, because I wasmyself about to ask you for some."

  "For yourself?"

  "For myself, or some of my people, for mine or for ours."

  "How much do you want?"

  "Be easy on that score; a roundish sum, it is true, but not tooexorbitant."

  "Tell me the amount."

  "Fifty thousand francs."

  "Oh! a mere nothing. Of course one has always fifty thousand francs.Why the deuce cannot that knave Colbert be as easily satisfied as youare--and I should give myself far less trouble than I do. When do youneed this sum?"

  "To-morrow morning; but you wish to know its destination."

  "Nay, nay, chevalier, I need no explanation."

  "To-morrow is the first of June."

  "Well?"

  "One of our bonds becomes due."

  "I did not know we had any bond."

  "Certainly, to-morrow we pay ou
r last third instalment."

  "What third?"

  "Of the one hundred and fifty thousand francs to Baisemeaux."

  "Baisemeaux? Who is he?"

  "The governor of the Bastile."

  "Yes, I remember. On what grounds am I to pay one hundred and fiftythousand francs for that man?"

  "On account of the appointment which he, or rather we, purchased fromLouviere and Tremblay."

  "I have a very vague recollection of the matter."

  "That is likely enough, for you have so many affairs to attend to.However, I do not believe you have any affair in the world of greaterimportance than this one."

  "Tell me, then, why we purchased this appointment."

  "Why, in order to render him a service in the first place, andafterwards ourselves."

  "Ourselves? You are joking."

  "Monseigneur, the time may come when the governor of the Bastile mayprove a very excellent acquaintance."

  "I have not the good fortune to understand you, D'Herblay."

  "Monseigneur, we had our own poets, our own engineer, our own architect,our own musicians, our own printer, and our own painters; we needed ourown governor of the Bastile."

  "Do you think so?"

  "Let us not deceive ourselves, monseigneur; we are very much opposed topaying the Bastile a visit," added the prelate, displaying, beneathhis pale lips, teeth which were still the same beautiful teeth so muchadmired thirty years previously by Marie Michon.

  "And you think it is not too much to pay one hundred and fifty thousandfrancs for that? I thought you generally put out money at betterinterest than that."

  "The day will come when you will admit your mistake."

  "My dear D'Herblay, the very day on which a man enters the Bastile, heis no longer protected by his past."

  "Yes, he is, if the bonds are perfectly regular; besides, that goodfellow Baisemeaux has not a courtier's heart. I am certain, my lord,that he will not remain ungrateful for that money, without taking intoaccount, I repeat, that I retain the acknowledgments."

  "It is a strange affair! usury in a matter of benevolence."

  "Do not mix yourself up with it, monseigneur; if there be usury, it isI who practice it, and both of us reap the advantage from it--that isall."

  "Some intrigue, D'Herblay?"

  "I do not deny it."

  "And Baisemeaux an accomplice in it?"

  "Why not?--there are worse accomplices than he. May I depend, then, uponthe five thousand pistoles to-morrow?"

  "Do you want them this evening?"

  "It would be better, for I wish to start early; poor Baisemeaux will notbe able to imagine what has become of me, and must be upon thorns."

  "You shall have the amount in an hour. Ah, D'Herblay, the interestof your one hundred and fifty thousand francs will never pay my fourmillions for me."

  "Why not, monseigneur."

  "Good-night, I have business to transact with my clerks before Iretire."

  "A good night's rest, monseigneur."

  "D'Herblay, you wish things that are impossible."

  "Shall I have my fifty thousand francs this evening?"

  "Yes."

  "Go to sleep, then, in perfect safety--it is I who tell you to do so."

  Notwithstanding this assurance, and the tone in which it was given,Fouquet left the room shaking his head, and heaving a sigh.

  CHAPTER 98. M. Baisemeaux de Montlezun's Accounts