67
How the King, Louis XIV, Played His Little
Part
As FOUQUET WAS ALIGHTING from his carriage to
enter the castle of Nantes, a man of mean appearance went up to him
with marks of the greatest respect, and gave him a letter.
D‘Artagnan endeavoured to prevent this man from speaking to
Fouquet, and pushed him away, but the message had been given to the
Surintendant. Fouquet opened the letter and read it, and instantly
a vague terror, which d’Artagnan did not fail to penetrate, was
painted upon the countenance of the first minister. Fouquet put the
paper into the portfolio which he had under his arm, and passed on
towards the King’s apartments. D‘Artagrtan, through the small
windows made at every landing of the donjon stairs, saw, as he went
up behind Fouquet, the man who had delivered the note, look around
him on the place, and make signs to several persons, who
disappeared into the adjacent streets, after having themselves
repeated the signals made by the person we have named. Fouquet was
made to wait for a moment upon the terrace of which we have spoken,
a terrace which abutted on the little corridor, at the end of which
the closet of the King was established. Here d’Artagnan passed on
before the Surintendant, whom, till that time, he had respectfully
accompanied, and entered the royal cabinet.
“Well,” said Louis XIV, who, on perceiving him,
threw on to the table covered with papers a large green
cloth.
“The order is executed, sire.”
“And Fouquet?”
“Monsieur le Surintendant follows me,” said
d’Artagnan.
“In ten minutes let him be introduced,” said the
King, dismissing d’Artagnan again with a gesture. The latter
retired; but had scarcely reached the corridor at the extremity of
which Fouquet was waiting for him, when he was recalled by the
King’s bell.
“Did he not appear astonished?” asked the
King.
“Who, sire?”
“Fouquet,” repeated the King, without saying
monsieur, a particularity which confirmed the captain of the
musketeers in his suspicions.
“No, sire,” replied he.
“That’s well!” And a second time Louis dismissed
d’Artagnan.
Fouquet had not quitted the terrace where he had
been left by his guide. He reperused his note, which was thus
conceived: —
“Something is being contrived against you. Perhaps
they will not dare to carry it out at the castle; it will be on
your return home. The house is already surrounded by musketeers. Do
not enter. A white horse is waiting for you behind the
esplanade!”
Fouquet recognised the writing and the zeal of
Gourville. Not being willing that, if any evil happened to himself,
this paper should compromise a faithful friend, the Surintendant
was busy tearing it into a thousand morsels, spread about by the
wind from the balustrade of the terrace. D’Artagnan found him
watching the flight of the last scraps into space.
“Monsieur,” said he, “the King waits for
you.”
Fouquet walked with a deliberate step into the
little corridor, where MM. de Brienne and Rose were at work, whilst
the Duc de Saint-Aignan, seated in a little chair, likewise in the
corridor, appeared to be waiting for orders with feverish
impatience, his sword between his legs. It appeared strange to
Fouquet that MM. Brienne, Rose, and de Saint-Aignan, in general so
attentive and obsequious, should scarcely take the least notice, as
he, the Surintendant, passed. But how could he expect to find it
otherwise among courtiers, he whom the King no longer called
anything but Fouquet? He raised his head, determined to look
every one and every thing bravely in the face, and entered the
King’s apartment, where a little bell, which we already know, had
announced him to His Majesty.
The King, without rising, nodded to him, and with
interest: “Well! how are you, Monsieur Fouquet?” said he.
“I am in a high fever,” replied the Surintendant,
“but I am at the King’s service.”
“That is well; the States assemble to-morrow; have
you a speech ready?”
Fouquet looked at the King with astonishment. “I
have not, sire,” replied he; “but I will improvise one. I am too
well acquainted with affairs to feel any embarrassment. I have only
one question to ask; will your Majesty permit me?”
“Certainly; ask it.”
“Why has your Majesty not done his first minister
the honour to give him notice of this in Paris?”
“You were ill; I was not willing to fatigue
you.”
“Never did a labour—never did an explanation
fatigue me, sire; and, since the moment is come for me to demand an
explanation of my King—”
“Oh! Monsieur Fouquet! an explanation upon
what?”
“Upon your Majesty’s intentions with respect to
myself.”
The King blushed. “I have been calumniated,”
continued Fouquet warmly, “and I feel called upon to provoke the
justice of the King to make inquiries.”
“You say all this to me very uselessly, Monsieur
Fouquet; I know what I know.”
“Your Majesty can only know things as they have
been told to you; and I, on my part, have said nothing to you,
whilst others have spoken many and many times—”
“What do you wish to say?” said the King, impatient
to put an end to this embarrassing conversation.
“I will go straight to the fact, sire; and I accuse
a man of having injured me in your Majesty’s opinion.”
“Nobody has injured you, Monsieur Fouquet.”
“That reply proves to me, sire, that I am
right.”
“Monsieur Fouquet, I do not like people to be
accused.”
“Not when one is accused!”
“We have already spoken too much about this
affair.”
“Your Majesty will not allow me to justify
myself?”
“I repeat that I do not accuse you.”
Fouquet, with a half-bow, made a step backward. “It
is certain,” thought he, “that he has made up his mind. He alone
who cannot go back can show such obstinacy. Not to see the danger
now would be to be blind indeed; not to shun it would be
stupid.”
He resumed aloud: “Did your Majesty send for me for
any business?”
“No, Monsieur Fouquet, but for some advice I have
to give you.”
“I respectfully await it, sire.”
“Rest yourself, Monsieur Fouquet, do not throw away
your strength; the session of the States will be short, and when my
secretaries shall have closed it, I do not wish business to be
talked of in France for a fortnight.”
“Has the King nothing to say to me on the subject
of this assembly of the States?”
“No, Monsieur Fouquet.”
“Not to me, the Surintendant of Finances?”
“Rest yourself, I beg you; that is all I have to
say to you.”
Fouquet bit his lips and hung down his head. He was
evidently busy with some uneasy thought. This uneasiness struck the
King. “Are you angry at having to rest yourself, M. Fouquet ?” said
he.
“Yes, sire; I am not accustomed to take
rest.”
“But you are ill; you must take care of
yourself.”
“Your Majesty spoke just now of a speech to be
pronounced to-morrow. ”
His Majesty made no reply; this unexpected stroke
embarrassed him. Fouquet felt the weight of this hesitation. He
thought he could read a danger in the eyes of the young Prince,
which his fear would precipitate. “If I appear frightened I am
lost,” thought he.
The King, on his part, was only uneasy at the alarm
of Fouquet. “Has he a suspicion of anything?” murmured he.
“If his first word is severe,” again thought
Fouquet; “if he becomes angry, or feigns to be angry for the sake
of a pretext, how shall I extricate myself? Let us smooth the
declivity a little. Gourville was right.”
“Sire,” said he suddenly, “since the goodness of
the King watches over my health to the point of dispensing with my
labour, may I not be allowed to be absent from the council
to-morrow ? I could pass the day in bed, and will entreat the King
to grant me his physician, that we may endeavour to find a remedy
against this cursed fever.”
“So be it, Monsieur Fouquet, as you desire; you
shall have a holiday to-morrow, you shall have the physician, and
shall be restored to health.”
“Thanks!” said Fouquet, bowing. Then opening his
game:—
“Shall I not have the happiness of conducting your
Majesty to my residence of Belle-Isle?”
And he looked Louis full in the face, to judge of
the effect of such a proposal. The King blushed again.
“Do you know,” replied he, endeavouring to smile,
“that you have just said—‘My residence of Belle-Isle?’ ”
“Yes, sire.”
“Well! do you not remember,” continued the King in
the same cheerful tone, “that you gave me Belle-Isle?”
“That is true again, sire. Only as you have not
taken it, you will come with me and take possession of it.”
“I mean to do so.”
“That was, besides, your Majesty’s intention as
well as mine; and I cannot express to your Majesty how proud and
happy I have been at seeing all the King’s military household come
from Paris for this taking possession.”
The King stammered out that he did not bring the
musketeers for that alone.
“Oh, I am convinced of that,” said Fouquet warmly;
“your Majesty knows very well that you have nothing to do but to
come alone with a cane in your hand, to bring to the ground all the
fortifications of Belle-Isle.”
“Peste!” cried the King; “I do not wish those fine
fortifications, which cost so much to erect, should fall at all.
No, let them stand against the Dutch and the English. You would not
guess what I want to see at Belle-Isle, Monsieur Fouquet; it is the
pretty peasants and women of the lands on the sea-shore, who dance
so well, and are so seducing with their scarlet petticoats ! I have
heard great boast of your pretty tenants, Monsieur le Surintendant;
well, let me have a sight of them.”
“Whenever your Majesty pleases.”
“Have you any means of transport? It should be
to-morrow, if you like.”
The Surintendant felt this stroke, which was not
adroit, and replied, “No, sire; I was ignorant of your Majesty’s
wish; above all, I was ignorant of your haste to see Belle-Isle,
and I am prepared with nothing.”
“You have a boat of your own, nevertheless.”
“I have five; but they are all in the port, or at
Paimboeuf; and to join them, or bring them hither, we should
require at least twenty-four hours. Have I any occasion to send a
courier? Must I do so?”
“Wait a little; put an end to the fever,—wait till
to-morrow.”
“That is true; who knows but that by to-morrow we
may not have a hundred other ideas?” replied Fouquet, now perfectly
convinced, and very pale.
The King started, and stretched his hand out
towards his little bell, but Fouquet prevented his ringing.
“Sire,” said he, “I have an ague,—I am trembling
with cold. If I remain a moment longer, I shall most likely faint.
I request your Majesty’s permission to go and conceal myself
beneath the bedclothes.”
“Indeed, you are all in a shiver; it is painful to
behold! Come, Monsieur Fouquet, begone! I will send to inquire
after you.”
“Your Majesty overwhelms me with kindness. In an
hour I shall be better.”
“I will call some one to reconduct you,” said the
King.
“As you please, sire; I would gladly take the arm
of any one.”
“Monsieur d’Artagnan!” cried the King, ringing his
little bell.
“Oh! sire,” interrupted Fouquet, laughing in such a
manner as made the Prince feel cold, “would you give me the captain
of your musketeers to take me to my lodgings? A very equivocal kind
of honour that, sire! A simple footman, I beg.”
“And why, M. Fouquet? M. d’Artagnan conducts me
often, and well!”
“Yes, but when he conducts you, sire, it is to obey
you; whilst me—”
“Go on!”
“If I am obliged to return home supported by the
leader of the musketeers, it would be everywhere said you had had
me arrested.”
“Arrested!” replied the King, who became paler than
Fouquet himself,—“arrested! oh!”
“And why would not they say so?” continued Fouquet,
still laughing, “and I would lay a wager there would be people
found wicked enough to laugh at it.” This sally disconcerted the
monarch. Fouquet was skilful enough, or fortunate enough, to make
Louis XIV recoil before the appearance of the fact he meditated. M.
d’Artagnan, when he appeared, received an order to desire a
musketeer to accompany the Surintendant.
“Quite unnecessary,” said the latter; “sword for
sword, I prefer Gourville, who is waiting below for me. But that
will not prevent me enjoying the society of M. d’Artagnan. I am
glad he will see Belle-Isle, he who is so good a judge of
fortifications.”
D’Artagnan bowed, without at all comprehending what
was going on. Fouquet bowed again, and left the apartment, af
fecting all the slowness of a man who walks with difficulty. When
once out of the castle, “I am saved!” said he. “Oh! yes, disloyal
King, you shall see Belle-Isle, but it shall be when I am no longer
there!”
He disappeared, leaving d’Artagnan with the
King.
“Captain,” said the King, “you will follow M.
Fouquet at the distance of a hundred paces.”
“Yes, sire.”
“He is going to his lodgings again. You will go
with him.”
“Yes, sire.”
“You will arrest him in my name, and will shut him
up in a carriage. ”
“In a carriage. Well! sire?”
“In such a fashion that he may not, on the road,
either converse with any one or throw notes to people he may
meet.”
“That will be rather difficult, sire.”
“Not at all.”
“Pardon me, sire, I cannot stifle M. Fouquet, and
if he asks for liberty to breathe, I cannot prevent him by shutting
up glasses and blinds. He will throw out at the doors all the cries
and notes possible.”
“The case is provided for, Monsieur d’Artagnan; a
carriage with a trellis will obviate both the difficulties you
point out.”
“A carriage with an iron trellis! cried d’Artagnan;
“but a carriage with an iron trellis is not made in half an hour,
and your Majesty commands me to go immediately to M. Fouquet’s
lodgings.”
“Therefore the carriage in question is already
made.”
“Ah! that is quite a different thing,” said the
captain; “if the carriage is ready made, very well, then, we have
only to set it going.”
“It is ready with the horses harnessed to
it.”
“Ah!”
“And the coachman, with outriders, waiting in the
lower court of the castle.”
D’Artagnan bowed. “There only remains for me to ask
your Majesty to what place I shall conduct M. Fouquet.”
“To the castle of Angers, at first.”
“Very well, sire.”
“Afterwards, we will see.”
“Yes, sire.”
“Monsieur d’Artagnan, one last word; you have
remarked that for making this capture of M. Fouquet, I have not
employed my guards, on which account M. de Gesvres will be furious.
”
“Your Majesty does not employ your guards,” said
the captain, a little humiliated, “because you mistrust M. de
Gesvres, that is all.”
“That is to say, monsieur, that I have more
confidence in you.”
“I know that very well, sire; and it is of no use
to make so much of it.”
“It is only for the sake of arriving at this,
monsieur, that if, from this moment, it should happen that by any
chance, any chance whatever, M. Fouquet should escape—such chances
have been, monsieur—”
“Oh! very often, sire; but for others, not for
me.”
“And why not with you?”
“Because I, sire, have, for an instant, wished to
save M. Fouquet.”
The King started. “Because,” continued the captain,
“I had then a right to do so, having guessed your Majesty’s plan,
without your having spoken to me of it, and that I took an interest
in M. Fouquet. Now, was I not at liberty to show my interest in
this man?”
“In truth, monsieur, you do not reassure me with
regard to your services.”
“If I had saved him then, I was perfectly innocent;
I will say more, I should have done well, for M. Fouquet is not a
bad man. But he was not willing; his destiny prevailed; he let the
hour of liberty slip by. So much the worse! Now I have orders, I
will obey those orders, and M. Fouquet you may consider as a man
arrested. He is at the castle of Angers, is M. Fouquet.”
“Oh! you have not got him yet, captain.”
“That concerns me; every one to his trade, sire;
only, once more, reflect! Do you seriously give me orders to arrest
M. Fouquet, sire?”
“Yes, a thousand times yes!”
“Write it, then.”
“Here is the letter.”
D’Artagnan read it, bowed to the King, and left the
room. From the height of the terrace he perceived Gourville, who
went by with a joyous air towards the lodgings of M. Fouquet.