Man in the Iron Mask by Dumas, Alexandre part two

As soon, however, as his hunger was appeased, the King became dull and gloomy again; the more so in proportion to the satisfaction he fancied he had manifested, and particularly on account of the deferential manner which his courtiers had shown towards Fouquet. D’Artagnan, who ate a good deal and drank but little, without allowing it to be noticed, did not lose a single opportunity, but made a great number of observations which he turned to good profit.

When the supper was finished, the King expressed a wish not to lose the promenade. The park was illuminated; the moon, too, as if she had placed herself at the orders of the Lord of Vaux, silvered the trees and lakes with her bright phosphoric light. The air was soft and balmy; the gravelled walks through the thickly set avenues yielded luxuriously to the feet. The fete was complete in every respect; for the King, having met La Valliere in one of the winding paths of the wood, was able to press her by the hand and say, “I love you,” without any one overhearing him, except M. d’Artagnan who followed, and M. Fouquet who preceded him.

The night of enchantments stole on. The King having requested to be shown to his room, there was immediately a movement in every direction. The Queens passed to their own apartments, accompanied by the music of theorbos and flutes. The King found his musketeers awaiting him on the grand flight of steps; for Fouquet had brought them on from Melun, and had invited them to supper. D’Artagnan’s suspicions at once disappeared. He was weary; he had supped well, and wished, for once in his life, thoroughly to enjoy a fete given by a man who was in every sense of the word a king. “M. Fouquet,” he said, “is the man for me.

The King was conducted with the greatest ceremony to the chamber of Morpheus, of which we owe some slight description to our readers. It was the handsomest and the largest in the palace. Lebrun had painted on the vaulted ceiling the happy as well as disagreeable dreams with which Morpheus affects kings as well as other men: with everything lovely to which sleep gives birth,- its perfumes, its flowers and nectar, the wild voluptuousness or deep repose of the senses,- had the painter enriched his frescos. It was a composition as soft and pleasing in one part as dark and terrible in another. The poisoned chalice; the glittering dagger suspended over the head of the sleeper; wizards and phantoms with hideous masks, those dim shadows more terrific than the brightness of flame or the blackness of night,- these he had made the companions of his more pleasing pictures.

No sooner had the King entered the room than a cold shiver seemed to pass through him; and when Fouquet asked him the cause of it, the King replied, turning pale, “I am sleepy.”

“Does your Majesty wish for your attendants at once?”

“No; I have to talk with a few persons first,” said the King. “Will you have the goodness to summon M. Colbert?”

Fouquet bowed, and left the room.

Chapter XLII: A Gascon, and a Gascon and a Half

D’ARTAGNAN had lost no time; in fact, he was not in the habit of doing so. After having inquired for Aramis, he had looked for him in every direction until he had succeeded in finding him. Now, no sooner had the King entered Vaux than Aramis had retired to his own room, meditating doubtless some new piece of gallant attention for his Majesty’s amusement. D’Artagnan desired the servants to announce him, and found on the second story, in a beautiful room called the blue room on account of the color of its hangings, the Bishop of Vannes in company with Porthos and several of the modern Epicureans. Aramis came forward to embrace his friend, and offered him the best seat. As it was after a while generally remarked among those present that the musketeer was reserved, apparently wishing for an opportunity to converse privately with Aramis, the Epicureans took their leave. Porthos, however, did not stir; having dined exceedingly well, he was fast asleep in his arm-chair, and the freedom of conversation therefore was not interrupted by a third person. Porthos had a deep, harmonious snore; and people might talk in the midst of its loud bass without fear of disturbing him.

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