Man in the Iron Mask by Dumas, Alexandre part one

“Monseigneur, Monseigneur! if you again utter these desperate words, if after having received proof of your high birth you still remain poor-spirited and of feeble purpose, I will comply with your desire,- I will depart, and renounce forever the service of a master to whom so eagerly I came to devote my assistance and my life!”

“Monsieur,” cried the Prince, “would it not have been better for you to have reflected, before telling me all that you have done, that you would break my heart forever?”

“And so I desired to do, Monseigneur.”

“Is a prison the fitting place to talk to me about power, grandeur, and even royalty? You wish to make me believe in splendor, and we are lying hidden in night; you boast of glory, and we are smothering our words in the curtains of this miserable bed; you give me glimpses of absolute power, and I hear the step of the jailer in the corridor,- that step which, after all, makes you tremble more than it does me. To render me somewhat less incredulous, free me from the Bastille; give air to my lungs, spurs to my feet, a sword to my arm, and we shall begin to understand each other.”

“It is precisely my intention to give you all this, Monseigneur, and more; only, do you desire it?”

“A word more,” said the Prince. “I know there are guards in every gallery, bolts to every door, cannon and soldiery at every barrier. How will you overcome the sentries, spike the guns? How will you break through the bolts and bars?”

“Monseigneur, how did you get the note which announced my arrival to you?”

“You can bribe a jailer for such a thing as a note.”

“If we can corrupt one turnkey, we can corrupt ten.”

“Well, I admit that it may be possible to release a poor captive from the Bastille; possible so to conceal him that the King’s people shall not again ensnare him; possible, in some unknown retreat, to sustain the unhappy wretch in some suitable manner.”

“Monseigneur!” said Aramis, smiling.

“I admit that whoever would do thus much for me would seem more than mortal in my eyes; but as you tell me I am a prince, brother of a king, how can you restore me the rank and power of which my mother and my brother have deprived me? And as I must pass a life of war and hatred, how will you make me conqueror in those combats, and invulnerable to my enemies? Ah, Monsieur, reflect upon this! Place me, to-morrow, in some dark cavern in a mountain’s base; yield me the delight of hearing in freedom the sounds of river and plain, of beholding in freedom the sun of the blue Heavens, or the stormy sky,- and it is enough. Promise me no more than this,- for, indeed, more you cannot give; and it would be a crime to deceive me, since you call yourself my friend.”

Aramis waited in silence. “Monseigneur,” he resumed after a moment’s reflection, “I admire the firm, sound sense which dictates your words; I am happy to have discovered my monarch’s mind.”

“Again, again! oh, for mercy’s sake,” cried the Prince, pressing his icy hands upon his clammy brow, “do not play with me! I have no need to be a king to be the happiest of men.”

“But I, Monseigneur, wish you to be a king for the good of humanity.”

“Ah!” said the Prince, with fresh distrust inspired by the word,- “ah! with what, then, has humanity to reproach my brother?”

“I forgot to say, Monseigneur, that if you condescend to allow me to guide you, and if you consent to become the most powerful monarch on earth, you will have promoted the interests of all the friends whom I devote to the success of your cause; and these friends are numerous.”

“Numerous?”

“Still less numerous than powerful, Monseigneur.”

“Explain yourself.”

“It is impossible. I will explain, I swear before Heaven, on that day when I see you sitting on the throne of France.”

“But my brother?”

“You shall decree his fate. Do you pity him?”

“Him who leaves me to perish in a dungeon? No; I do not pity him.”

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