Man in the Iron Mask (Barnes & Noble Classics Series)

by Alexandre Dumas

  “The King seemed annoyed; for, in point of fact, it was the exercise of a fresh act of authority; a repetition of the arbitrary act, if, indeed, it is to be considered as such. He took hold of his pen slowly, and evidently in no very good temper; and then he wrote, ‘Order for M. le Chevalier d’Artagnan, captain of my musketeers, to arrest M. le Comte de la Fère, wherever he is to be found.’ He then turned towards me; but I was looking on without moving a muscle of my face. In all probability he thought he perceived something like bravado in my tranquil manner, for he signed hurriedly; and then handing me the order, he said, ‘Go, monsieur!’ I obeyed; and here I am.”

  Athos pressed his friend’s hand. “Well, let us set off,” he said.

  “Oh! surely,” said d’Artagnan, “you must have some trifling matters to arrange before you leave your apartments in this manner.

  “I?—not at all.”

  “Why not?”

  “Why, you know, d’Artagnan, that I have always been a very simple traveller on this earth, ready to go to the end of the world by the order of my sovereign, ready to quit it at the summons of my Maker. What does a man who is thus prepared require in such a case?—a portmanteau, or a shroud. I am ready at this moment, as I have always been, my dear friend, and can accompany you at once.”

  “But Bragelonne—”

  “I have brought him up in the same principles I laid down for my own guidance; and you observed, that as soon as he perceived you he guessed, that very moment, the motive of your visit. We have thrown him off his guard for a moment; but do not be uneasy, he is sufficiently prepared for my disgrace to be too much alarmed at it. So, let us go.”

  “Very well, ‘let us go,’ ” said d’Artagnan quietly.

  “As I broke my sword in the King’s presence, and threw the pieces at his feet, I presume that will dispense with the necessity of delivering it over to you.”

  “You are quite right; and, besides that, what the deuce do you suppose I could do with your sword?”

  “Am I to walk behind or before you?” inquired Athos, laughing.

  “You will walk arm-in-arm with me,” replied d’Artagnan, as he took the Comte’s arm to descend the staircase; and in this manner they arrived at the landing. Grimaud, whom they had met in the anteroom, looked at them as they went out together in this manner, with some little uneasiness; his experience of affairs was quite sufficient to give him good reason to suspect that there was something wrong.

  “Ah! is that you, Grimaud?” said Athos kindly. “We are going—”

  “To take a turn in my carriage,” interrupted d’Artagnan, with a friendly nod of the head.

  Grimaud thanked d‘Artagnan by a grimace, which was evidently intended for a smile, and accompanied both the friends to the door. Athos entered first into the carriage, d’Artagnan following him, without saying a word to the coachman. The departure had taken place so quietly, that it excited no disturbance or attention even in the neighbourhood. When the carriage had reached the quays, “You are taking me to the Bastille, I perceive,” said Athos.10

  “I?” said d’Artagnan, “I take you wherever you may choose to go; nowhere else, I can assure you.”

  “What do you mean?” said the Comte, surprised.

  “Why, surely, my dear friend,” said d’Artagnan, “you quite understand that I undertook the mission with no other object in view than that of carrying it out exactly as you liked. You surely did not expect that I was going to get you thrown into prison like that, brutally, and without any reflection. If I had not anticipated that, I should have let the captain of the guards undertake it.”

  “And so—?” said Athos.

  “And so, I repeat again, we will go wherever you may choose.”

  “My dear friend,” said Athos, embracing d’Artagnan, “how like you that is.”

  “Well, it seems simple enough to me. The coachman will take you to the barrier of the Cours-la-Reine;11 you will find a horse there which I have ordered to be kept ready for you; with that horse you will be able to do three posts without stopping; and I, on my side, will take care not to return to the King, to tell him that you have gone away, until the very moment it will be impossible to overtake you. In the meantime you will have reached Havre, and from Havre across to England, where you will find the charming residence of which M. Monk made me a present,12 without speaking of the hospitality which King Charles will not fail to show you. Well, what do you think of this project?”

  Athos shook his head, and then said, smiling as he did so, “No, no; take me to the Bastille.”

  “You are an obstinate-headed fellow, dear Athos,” returned d’Artagnan; “reflect for a few moments.”

  “Upon what?”

  “That you are no longer twenty years of age. Believe me, I speak according to my own knowledge and experience. A prison is certain death to men of our time of life. No, no; I will never allow you to languish in prison in such a way. Why, the very thought of it makes my head turn giddy.”

  “Dear d’Artagnan,” Athos replied, “Heaven most fortunately made my body as strong, powerful and enduring as my mind; and, rely upon it, I shall retain my strength up to the very last moment.”

  “But this is not strength of mind or character, it is sheer madness.”

  “No, d’Artagnan, it is the highest order of reasoning. Do not suppose that I should in the slightest degree in the world discuss the question with you, whether you would not be ruined in endeavouring to save me. I should have done precisely as you are doing if flight had been part of my plan of action; I should, therefore, have accepted from you what, without any doubt, you would have accepted from me. No! I know you too well even to breathe a word upon the subject.”

  “Ah! if you would only let me do it,” said d’Artagnan, “how I would send the King running after you.”

  “Still, he is the King; do not forget that, my dear friend.”

  “Oh! that is all the same to me; and King though he be, I would plainly tell him, ‘Sire! imprison, exile, kill every one in France and Europe; order me to arrest and poniard even whom you like—even were it Monsieur, your own brother; but do not touch one of the four musketeers, or if so, mordioux!’ ”

  “My dear friend,” replied Athos, with perfect calmness. “I should like to persuade you of one thing; namely, that I wish to be arrested; that I desire above all things that my arrest should take place.”

  D’Artagnan made a slight movement of his shoulders.

  “Nay; I wish it, I repeat, more than anything; if you were to let me escape, it would only be to return of my own accord, and constitute myself a prisoner. I wish to prove to this young man, who is dazzled by the power and splendour of his crown, that he can be regarded as the first and chiefest among men only on the condition of his proving himself to be the most generous and the wisest among them. He may punish me, imprison or torture me, it matters not. He abuses his opportunities, and I wish him to learn the bitterness of remorse, while Heaven teaches him what a chastisement is.”

  “Well, well,” replied d‘Artagnan, “I know, only too well, that when you have once said ‘no,’ you mean ‘no.’ I do not insist any longer; you wish to go to the Bastille?”

  “I do wish to go there.”

  “Let us go then! To the Bastille!” cried d’Artagnan to the coachman. And throwing himself back in the carriage, he gnawed the ends of his moustache with a fury which, for Athos, who knew him well, signified a resolution either already taken or in course of formation. A profound silence ensued in the carriage, which continued to roll on, but neither faster nor slower than before. Athos took the musketeer by the hand.

  “You are not angry with me, d’Artagnan?” he said. “I!—oh, no! certainly not; of course not. What you do from heroism, I should have done from sheer obstinacy.”

  “But you are quite of opinion, are you not, that Heaven will avenge me, d’Artagnan?”

  “And I know some persons on earth who will lend a helping hand,” said the captain.

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  Three Guests Astonished to Find Themselves at Supper Together

  THE CARRIAGE ARRIVED AT the outside gate of the Bastille. A soldier on guard stopped it, but d‘Artagnan had only to utter a single word to procure admittance, and the carriage passed on without further difficulty. Whilst they were proceeding along the covered way which led to the courtyard of the governor’s residence, d’Artagnan, whose lynx eye saw everything, even through the walls, suddenly cried out, “What is that out yonder?”

  “Well,” said Athos quietly, “what is it?”

  “Look yonder, Athos.”

  “In the courtyard?”

  “Why, yes; make haste.”

  “Well, a carriage; very likely conveying a prisoner like myself.”

  “That would be too droll.”

  “I do not understand you.”

  “Make haste and look again, and look at the man who is just getting out of that carriage.”

  At that very moment a second sentinel stopped d‘Artagnan, and while the formalities were being gone through, Athos could see at a hundred paces from him the man whom his friend had pointed out to him. He was, in fact, getting out of the carriage at the door of the governor’s house. “Well,” inquired d’Artagnan, “do you see him?”

  “Yes; he is a man in a grey suit.”

  “What do you say of him?”

  “I cannot very well tell; he is, as I have just told you, a man in a grey suit, who is getting out of a carriage; that is all.”

  “Athos, I will wager anything it is he.”

  “He—who?”

  “Aramis.”

  “Aramis arrested? Impossible!”

  “I do not say he is arrested, since we see him alone in his carriage.”

  “Well, then, what is he doing here?”

  “Oh! he knows Baisemeaux, the governor,” replied the musketeer slyly; “so we have arrived just in time.”

  “What for?”

  “In order to see what we can see.”

  “I regret this meeting exceedingly. When Aramis sees me, he will be very much annoyed, in the first place, at seeing me, and in the next at being seen.”

  “Very well reasoned.”

  “Unfortunately, there is no remedy for it; whenever any one meets another in the Bastille, even if he wished to draw back to avoid him, it would be impossible.”

  “Athos, I have an idea; the question is, to spare Aramis the annoyance you were speaking of, is it not?”

  “What is to be done?”

  “I will tell you; or, in order to explain myself in the best possible way, let me relate the affair in my own manner; I will not recommend you to tell a falsehood, for that would be impossible for you to do; but I will tell falsehoods enough for both; it is so easy to do that with the nature and habits of a Gascon.”

  Athos smiled. The carriage stopped where the one we have just now pointed out had stopped; namely, at the door of the governor’s house. “It is understood, then?” said d‘Artagnan, in a low voice to his friend. Athos consented by a gesture. They ascended the staircase. There will be no occasion for surprise at the facility with which they had entered into the Bastile, if it be remembered that, before passing the first gate, in fact, the most difficult of all, d’Artagnan had announced that he had brought a prisoner of state. At the third gate, on the contrary, that is to say, when he had once fairly entered the prison, he merely said to the sentinel, “To M. Baisemeaux”; and they both passed on. In a few minutes they were in the governor’s dining-room, and the first face which attracted d‘Artagnan’s observation was that of Aramis, who was seated side by side with Baisemeaux, and awaited the announcement of a good meal, whose odour impregnated the whole apartment. If d’Artagnan pretended surprise, Aramis did not pretend at all; he started when be saw his two friends, and his emotion was very apparent.Athos and d’Artagnan however, complimented him as usual, and Baisemeaux, amazed, completely stupefied by the presence of his three guests, began to perform a few evolutions around them all. “By what lucky accident—”

  “We were just going to ask you,” retorted d’Artagnan.

  “Are we going to give ourselves up as prisoners?” cried Aramis, with an affectation of hilarity.

  “Ah! ah!” said d’Artagnan; “it is true the walls smell deucedly like a prison. Monsieur de Baisemeaux, you know you invited me to sup with you the other day.”

  “I!” cried Baisemeaux.

  “Yes, of course you did, although you now seem so struck with amazement. Don’t you remember it?”

  Baisemeaux turned pale and then red, looked at Aramis, who looked at him, and finished by stammering out, “Certainly—I am delighted—but upon my honour—I have not the slightest—Ah! I have such a wretched memory.”

  “Well! I am wrong, I see,” said d’Artagnan, as if he were offended.

  “Wrong, what for?”

  “Wrong to remember anything about it, it seems.”

  Baisemeaux hurried towards him. “Do not stand on ceremony, my dear captain,” he said; “I have the worst memory in the world. I no sooner leave off thinking of my pigeons and their pigeon-house, than I am no better than the rawest recruit.”

  “At all events, you remember it now,” said d’Artagnan boldly.

  “Yes, yes,” replied the governor, hesitating; “I think I remember.”

  “It was when you came to the palace to see me; you told me some story or other about your accounts with M. de Louvière and M. de Tremblay.”

  “Oh, yes! perfectly.”

  “And about M. d’Herblay’s kindness towards you.”

  “Ah!” exclaimed Aramis, looking the unhappy governor full in the face, “and yet you just now said you had no memory, Monsieur de Baisemeaux.”

  Baisemeaux interrupted the musketeer in the midst of his revelations. “Yes, yes; you’re quite right; how could I have forgotten; I remember it now as well as possible; I beg you a thousand pardons. But now, once for all, my dear M. d‘Artagnan, be sure that at this present time, as at any other, whether invited or not, you are perfectly at home here, you and M. d’Herblay, your friend,” he said, turning towards Aramis; “and this gentleman too,” he added, bowing to Athos.

  “Well, I thought it would be sure to turn out so,” replied d’Artagnan, “and that is the reason I came. Having nothing to do this evening at the Palais-Royal, I wished to judge for myself what your ordinary style of living was like; and as I was coming along, I met the Comte de la Fère.”

  Athos bowed. “The Comte, who had just left His Majesty, handed me an order which required immediate attention. We were close by here; I wished to call in, even if it were for no other object than that of shaking hands with you and of presenting the Comte to you, of whom you spoke so highly that evening at the palace when—”

  “Certainly, certainly,—M. Le Comte de la Fère.”

  “Precisely.”

  “The Comte is welcome, I am sure.”

  “And he will sup with you two, I suppose, whilst I, unfortunate dog that I am, must run off on a matter of duty. Oh! what happy beings you are, compared to myself;” he added, sighing as loud as Porthos might have done.

  “And so you are going away then?” said Aramis and Baisemeaux together, with the same expression of delighted surprise, the tone of which was immediately noticed by d’Artagnan.

  “I leave you in my place,” he said, “a noble and excellent guest.” And he touched Athos gently on the shoulder, who, astonished also, could not prevent exhibiting his surprise a little; a tone which was noticed by Aramis only, for M. de Baisemeaux was not quite equal to the three friends in point of intelligence.

  “What! are you going to leave us?” resumed the governor.

  “I shall only be about an hour, or an hour and a half. I will return in time for dessert.”

  “Oh! we will wait for you,” said Baisemeaux.

  “No, no; that would be really disobliging me.”

  “You will be sure to return, though?” said Athos, with an expression
of doubt.

  “Most certainly,” he said, pressing his friend’s hand confidently; and he added in a low voice, “Wait for me, Athos; be cheerful and lively as possible, and above all, don’t allude even to business affairs, for Heaven’s sake.”

  And with a renewed pressure of the hand, he seemed to warn the Comte of the necessity of keeping perfectly discreet and impenetrable. Baisemeaux led d’Artagnan to the gate. Aramis, with many friendly protestations of delight, sat down by Athos, determined to make him speak; but Athos possessed every virtue and quality to the very highest degree. If necessity had required it, he would have been the finest orator in the world, but on other occasions be would rather have died than have opened his lips.

  Ten minutes after d‘Artagnan’s departure, the three gentlemen sat down to table, which was covered with the most substantial display of gastronomic luxury. Large joints, exquisite dishes, preserves, the greatest variety of wines, appeared successively upon the table, which was served at the King’s expense, and of which expense M. Colbert would have found no difficulty in saving two-thirds, without any one in the Bastille being the worse for it. Baisemeaux was the only one who ate and drank resolutely. Aramis allowed nothing to pass by him, but merely touched everything he took; Athos, after the soup, and three hors d’œuvres, ate nothing more. The style of conversation was such as could hardly be otherwise between three men so opposite in temper and ideas. Aramis was incessantly asking himself by what extraordinary chance Athos was at Baisemeaux’s when d‘Artagnan was no longer there, and why d’Artagnan did not remain when Athos was there. Athos sounded all the depths of the mind of Aramis, who lived in the midst of subterfuge, evasion and intrigue; he studied his man well and thoroughly, and felt convinced that he was engaged upon some important project. And then he, too, began to think of his own personal affair, and to lose himself in conjectures as to d‘Artagnan’s reason for having left the Bastille so abruptly, and for leaving behind him a prisoner so badly introduced and so badly looked after by the prison authorities. But we shall not pause to examine into the thoughts and feelings of these personages, but will leave them to themselves, surrounded by the remains of poultry, game, and fish, which Baisemeaux’s generous knife and fork had so mutilated. We are going to follow d’Artagnan instead, who, getting into the carriage which had brought him, said to the coachman, “Return to the palace, and as fast as you can possibly make the horses go.”