Man in the Iron Mask by Dumas, Alexandre part two

“Ah!” cried d’Artagnan, on perceiving him, “are you still there, Monseigneur?” And that word “still” completed the proof to Fouquet of how much information, and how many useful counsels were contained in the first visit the musketeer had paid him.

The superintendent sighed deeply. “Good heavens! yes, Monsieur,” replied he. “The arrival of the King has interrupted me in the projects I had.”

“Oh! then you know that the King is arrived?”

“Yes, Monsieur, I have seen him; and this time you come from him-”

“To inquire after you, Monseigneur; and if your health is not too bad, to beg you to have the kindness to repair to the castle.”

“Directly, M. d’Artagnan, directly!”

“Ah, damn it!” said the captain; “now the King is come, there is no more walking for anybody- no more free-will; the password governs all now, you as well as me, me as well as you.”

Fouquet heaved a last sigh, got into his carriage, so great was his weakness, and went to the castle, escorted by d’Artagnan, whose politeness was not less terrifying now than it had but just before been consoling and cheerful.

Chapter LXVII: 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 endeavored to prevent this man from speaking to Fouquet, and pushed him away; but the message had been given to the superintendent. Fouquet opened the letter and read it, and instantly a vague terror, which d’Artagnan did not fail to penetrate, was expressed by the countenance of the first minister. He put the paper into the portfolio which he had under his arm, and passed on towards the King’s apartments. D’Artagnan, as he went up behind Fouquet, through the small windows made at every landing of the donjon stairs, saw 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 cabinet of the King was located. Here d’Artagnan passed on before the superintendent, whom till that time he had respectfully accompanied, and entered the royal cabinet.

“Well?” asked Louis XIV, who, on perceiving him, threw on the table covered with papers a large green cloth.

“The order is executed, Sire.”

“And Fouquet?”

“Monsieur the Superintendent follows me,” replied d’Artagnan.

“In ten minutes let him be introduced,” said the King, dismissing d’Artagnan 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 trifle 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, conceived thus:

“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 in waiting for you behind the esplanade!”

Fouquet recognized 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 superintendent 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 Messieurs de Brienne and Rose were at work, while the Duc de Saint-Aignan, seated on a 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 Messieurs de Brienne, Rose, and de Saint-Aignan, in general so attentive and obsequious, should scarcely take the least notice as he, the superintendent, passed. But how could he expect to find it otherwise among courtiers, he whom the King now called “Fouquet”? He raised his head, determined to meet with brave front whatever might happen, and entered the King’s apartment, where a little bell, which we already know, had announced him to his Majesty.

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