Man in the Iron Mask by Dumas, Alexandre part one

“That we will think about,” said Porthos; “the secret will not go far, in fact.”

“But, Monsieur,” returned De Saint-Aignan, “is M. de Bragelonne, in penetrating the secret, aware of the danger to which he exposes himself and others?”

“M. de Bragelonne incurs no danger, Monsieur, nor does he fear any either,- as you, if it please Heaven, will find out very soon.”

“This fellow is a perfect madman,” thought De Saint-Aignan. “What, in Heaven’s name, does he want?” He then said aloud: “Come, Monsieur, let us hush up this affair.”

“You forget the portrait!” said Porthos, in a voice of thunder, which made the count’s blood freeze in his veins.

As the portrait in question was La Valliere’s portrait, and as no mistake could any longer exist on the subject, De Saint-Aignan’s eyes were completely opened. “Ah,” he exclaimed,- “ah, Monsieur, I remember now that M. de Bragelonne was engaged to be married to her.”

Porthos assumed an imposing air- all the majesty of ignorance, in fact- as he said: “It matters nothing whatever to me, nor to yourself indeed, whether or not my friend was, as you say, engaged to be married. I am even astonished that you should have made use of so indiscreet a remark. It may possibly do your cause harm, Monsieur.”

“Monsieur,” replied De Saint-Aignan, “you are the incarnation of intelligence, delicacy, and loyalty of feeling united. I see the whole matter now clearly enough.”

“So much the better,” said Porthos.

“And,” pursued De Saint-Aignan, “you have made me comprehend it in the most ingenious and the most delicate manner possible. Thank you, Monsieur, thank you.” Porthos drew himself up. “Only, now that I know everything, permit me to explain-”

Porthos shook his head as a man who does not wish to hear; but De Saint-Aignan continued: “I am in despair, I assure you, at all that has happened; but how would you have acted in my place? Come, between ourselves, tell me what would you have done?”

Porthos raised his head. “There is no question at all of what I should have done, young man; you have now,” he said, “been made acquainted with the three causes of complaint against you, I believe?”

“As for the first, my change of rooms,- and I now address myself to you, as a man of honor and of great intelligence,- could I, when the desire of so august a personage was so urgently expressed that I should move, ought I to have disobeyed?”

Porthos was about to speak, but De Saint-Aignan did not give him time to answer. “Ah! my frankness, I see, convinces you,” he said, interpreting the movement in his own interest. “You perceive that I am right?”

Porthos did not reply. De Saint-Aignan continued: “I pass to that unfortunate trap-door,” placing his hand on Porthos’s arm,- “that trap-door, the occasion and the means of so much unhappiness, and which was constructed for- you know what. Well, then, in plain truth, do you suppose that it was I who, of my own accord, in such a place too, had that trap-door made? Oh, no! you do not believe it; and here, again, you feel, you guess, you understand the influence of a will superior to my own. You can conceive the infatuation,- I do not speak of love, that madness irresistible! But, thank Heaven! happily the affair is with a man who has so much sensitiveness of feeling. If it were not so, indeed, what an amount of misery and scandal would fall upon her, poor girl! and upon him- whom I will not name.”

Porthos, confused and bewildered by the eloquence and gestures of De Saint-Aignan, made a thousand efforts to stem this torrent of words, of which, by the by, he did not understand a single one; he remained upright and motionless on his seat, and that was all he could do.

De Saint-Aignan continued, and gave a new inflection to his voice, and an increasing vehemence to his gesture: “As for the portrait,- for I readily believe the portrait is the principal cause of complaint,- tell me candidly if you think me to blame? Who was it that wished to have her portrait? Was it I? Who is in love with her? Is it I? Who desires her? Who has won her? Is it I? No, a thousand times no! I know M. de Bragelonne must be in a state of despair; I know these misfortunes are most cruel. But I, too, am suffering as well; and yet there is no possibility of offering any resistance. If he struggles, he will be derided; if he resists, he is lost. You will tell me, I know, that despair is madness; but you are reasonable,- you have understood me. I perceive by your serious, thoughtful, embarrassed air, even, that the importance of the situation in which we are placed has not escaped you. Return, therefore, to M. de Bragelonne; thank him- as I have indeed reason to thank him- for having chosen as an intermediary a man of your merit. Believe me that I shall, on my side, preserve an eternal gratitude for the man who has so ingeniously, so cleverly corrected the misunderstanding between us. And since ill-luck would have it that the secret should be known to four instead of to three, why, this secret, which might make the most ambitious man’s fortune, I am delighted to share with you, Monsieur; from the bottom of my heart I am delighted at it. From this very moment you can make use of me as you please; I place myself entirely at your mercy. What can I possibly do for you? What can I solicit, nay, require even? Speak, Monsieur, speak!”

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