Man in the Iron Mask by Dumas, Alexandre part one

“Certainly, certainly- M. le Comte de la Fere, is it not?”

“Precisely.”

“Monsieur the Count is welcome.”

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

“And so you are going away?” 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 help exhibiting his surprise a little,- 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 be away only 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 confidentially; and he added in a low voice, “Wait for me, Athos; be cheerful and lively as possible, and above all, don’t allude to business affairs, for Heaven’s sake!” and a renewed pressure of the hand impressed upon the count the necessity of being 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 all the virtues in their highest excellence. If necessity had required it, he would have been the finest orator in the world; but when there was need of silence he would die rather than utter a syllable.

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 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’oeuvres, ate nothing more. The style of conversation was such as it necessarily would be 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; we will leave them to themselves, surrounded by the remains of poultry, game, and fish, mutilated by the generous knife of Baisemeaux. We are going to follow d’Artagnan instead, who, getting into the carriage which had brought him, cried out to the coachman, “To the King! and burn the pavement!”

Chapter XXV: What Took Place at the Louvre During the Supper at the Bastille

M. DE SAINT-AIGNAN had executed the commission with which the King had intrusted him for La Valliere, as we have already seen in one of the preceding chapters; but whatever his eloquence might have been, he did not succeed in persuading the young girl that she had in the King a protector powerful enough for her under any combination of circumstances, and that she had no need of any one else in the world when the King was on her side. In point of fact, at the very first word which the favorite mentioned of the discovery of the famous secret, Louise, in a passion of tears, abandoned herself in utter despair to a sorrow which would have been far from flattering for the King, if he had been a witness of it from a corner of the room. De Saint-Aignan, in his character of ambassador, felt greatly offended at it, as his master himself would have been, and returned to announce to the King what he had seen and heard. It is there that we now find him, in a state of great agitation, in the presence of the King, still more agitated than he.