Louise de la Valliere. Alexandre Dumas
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to explain his intentions with regard to it.’ I should not have been placed in an absurd position; you would have enjoyed the surprise so long planned, and we should not have had any occasion to look askant at each other when we met.”
“While, on the contrary,” replied Aramis, “you have acted altogether as one friendly to M. Colbert. And you really are a friend of his, I suppose?”
“Certainly not, indeed!” exclaimed the captain. “M. Colbert is a mean fellow, and I hate him as I used to hate Mazarin, but without fearing him.”
“Well, then,” said Aramis, “I love M. Fouquet, and his interests are mine. You know my position. I have no property or means whatever. M. Fouquet gave me several livings, a bishopric as well; M. Fouquet has served and obliged me like the generous-hearted man he is, and I know the world sufficiently well to appreciate a kindness when I meet with one. M. Fouquet has won my regard, and I have devoted myself to his service.”
“You could not possibly do better. You will find him a very liberal master.”
Aramis bit his lips; and then said, “The best a man could possibly have.” He then paused for a minute, D’Artagnan taking good care not to interrupt him.
“I suppose you know how Porthos got mixed up in all this?”
“No,” said D’Artagnan; “I am curious, of course, but I never question a friend when he wishes to keep a secret from me.”
“Well, then, I will tell you.”
“It is hardly worth the trouble, if the confidence is to bind me in any way.”
“Oh! do not be afraid.; there is no man whom I love better than Porthos, because he is so simple-minded and good-natured. Porthos is so straightforward in everything. Since I have become a bishop, I have looked for these primeval natures, which make me love truth and hate intrigue.”
D’Artagnan stroked his mustache, but said nothing.
“I saw Porthos and again cultivated his acquaintance; his own time hanging idly on his hands, his presence recalled my earlier and better days without engaging me in any present evil. I sent for Porthos to come to Vannes. M. Fouquet, whose regard for me is very great, having learnt that Porthos and I were attached to each other by old ties of friendship, promised him increase of rank at the earliest promotion, and that is the whole secret.”
“I shall not abuse your confidence,” said D’Artagnan.
“I am sure of that, my dear friend; no one has a finer sense of honor than yourself.”
“I flatter myself that you are right, Aramis.”
“And now”—and here the prelate looked searchingly and scrutinizingly at his friend—“now let us talk of ourselves and for ourselves; will you become one of M. Fouquet’s friends? Do not interrupt me until you know what that means.”
“Well, I am listening.”
“Will you become a marechal of France, peer, duke, and the possessor of a duchy, with a million of francs?”
“But, my friend,” replied D’Artagnan, “what must one do to get all that?”
“Belong to M. Fouquet.”
“But I already belong to the king.”
“Not exclusively, I suppose.”
“Oh! a D’Artagnan cannot be divided.”
“You have, I presume, ambitions, as noble hearts like yours have.”
“Yes, certainly I have.”
“Well?”
“Well! I wish to be a marechal; the king will make me marechal, duke, peer; the king will make me all that.”
Aramis fixed a searching look upon D’Artagnan.
“Is not the king master?” said D’Artagnan.
“No one disputes it; but Louis XIII. was master also.”
“Oh! my dear friend, between Richelieu and Louis XIII. stood no D’Artagnan,” said the musketeer, very quietly.
“There are many stumbling-blocks round the king,” said Aramis.
“Not for the king’s feet.”
“Very likely not; still—”
“One moment, Aramis; I observe that every one thinks of himself, and never of his poor prince; I will maintain myself maintaining him.”
“And if you meet with ingratitude?”
“The weak alone are afraid of that.”
“You are quite certain of yourself?”
“I think so.”
“Still, the king may some day have no further need for you!”
“On the contrary, I think his need of me will soon be greater than ever; and hearken, my dear fellow, if it became necessary to arrest a new Conde, who would do it? This—this alone in France!” and D’Artagnan struck his sword, which clanked sullenly on the tesselated floor.
“You are right,” said Aramis, turning very pale; and then he rose and pressed D’Artagnan’s hand.
“That is the last summons for supper,” said the captain of the musketeers; “will you excuse me?”
Aramis threw his arm round the musketeer’s neck, and said, “A friend like you is the brightest jewel in the royal crown.” And they immediately separated.
“I was right,” mused D’Artagnan; “there is, indeed, something strangely serious stirring.”
“We must hasten the explosion,” breathed the coming cardinal, “for D’Artagnan has discovered the existence of a plot.”
Chapter X. Madame and De Guiche.
It will not be forgotten how Comte de Guiche left the queen-mother’s apartments on the day when Louis XIV. presented La Valliere with the beautiful bracelets he had won in the lottery. The comte walked to and fro for some time outside the palace, in the greatest distress, from a thousand suspicions and anxieties with which his mind was beset. Presently he stopped and waited on the terrace opposite the grove of trees, watching for Madame’s departure. More than half an hour passed away; and as he was at that moment quite alone, the comte could hardly have had any very diverting ideas at his command. He drew his tables from his pocket, and, after hesitating over and over again, determined to write these words:—“Madame, I implore you to grant me one moment’s conversation. Do not be alarmed at this request, which contains nothing in any way opposed to the profound respect with which I subscribe myself, etc., etc.” He had signed and folded this singular love-letter, when he suddenly observed several ladies leaving the chateau, and afterwards several courtiers too; in fact, almost every one that formed the queen’s circle. He saw La Valliere herself, then Montalais talking with Malicorne; he watched the departure of the very last of the numerous guests that had a short time before thronged the queen-mother’s cabinet.
Madame herself had not yet passed; she would be obliged, however, to cross the courtyard in order to enter her own apartments; and, from the terrace where he was standing, De Guiche could see all that was going on in the courtyard. At last he saw Madame leave, attended by a couple of pages, who were carrying torches before her. She was walking very quickly; as soon as she reached the door, she said:
“Let some one go and look for De Guiche: he has to render an account of a mission he had to discharge for me; if he should be disengaged, request him to be good enough to come to