Every one has experienced what the above remark conveys; there is no one who in the midst of a suffocating nightmare has not said to himself, by the help of that light which still burns in the brain when every human light is extinguished, “It is nothing but a dream, after all.” This was precisely what Louis XIV said to himself. But when he said, “Let us wake up,” he perceived that not only was he already awake, but still more, that he had his eyes open also. He then looked around him. On his right hand and on his left two armed men stood silently, each wrapped in a huge cloak, and the face covered with a mask; one of them held a small lamp in his hand, whose glimmering light revealed the saddest picture a king could look upon.
Louis said to himself that his dream still lasted, and that all he had to do to cause it to disappear was to move his arms or to say something aloud. He darted from his bed, and found himself upon the damp ground. Then, addressing himself to the man who held the lamp in his hand, he said, “What is this, Monsieur, and what is the meaning of this jest?”
“It is no jest,” replied, in a deep voice, the masked figure that held the lantern.
“Do you belong to M. Fouquet?” inquired the King, greatly astonished at his situation.
“It matters very little to whom we belong,” said the phantom. “We are your masters; that is sufficient.”
The King, more impatient than intimidated, turned to the other masked figure. “If this is a comedy,” he said, “you will tell M. Fouquet that I find it unseemly, and that I desire it should cease.”
The second masked person to whom the King had addressed himself was a man of huge stature and vast circumference. He held himself erect and motionless as a block of marble.
“Well,” added the King, stamping his foot, “you do not answer!”
“We do not answer you, my good monsieur,” said the giant, in a stentorian voice, “because there is nothing to answer, except that you are the chief facheux, and that M. Coquelin de Voliere forgot to include you in the number of his.”
“At least, tell me what you want!” exclaimed Louis, folding his arms with a passionate gesture.
“You will know by and by,” replied the man who held the lamp.
“In the meantime tell me where I am.”
“Look!”
Louis looked all round him; but by the light of the lamp which the masked figure raised for the purpose, he could perceive nothing but the damp walls, which glistened here and there with the slimy traces of the snail. “Oh! oh! a dungeon,” said the King.
“No, a subterranean passage.”
“Which leads-”
“Will you be good enough to follow us?”
“I shall not stir from hence!” cried the King.
“If you are obstinate, my dear young friend,” replied the taller and stouter of the two, “I will lift you up in my arms, will roll you up in a cloak, and if you are stifled there, why, so much the worse for you!” and as he said this he disengaged from beneath the cloak with which he had threatened the King a hand of which Milo of Crotona would have envied him the possession on the day when he had that unhappy idea of rending his last oak.
The King dreaded violence; for he could well believe that the two men into whose power he had fallen had not gone so far with any idea of drawing back, and that they would consequently be ready to proceed to extremities if necessary. He shook his head, and said: “It seems I have fallen into the hands of a couple of assassins. Move on, then!”
Neither of the men answered a word to this remark. The one who carried the lantern walked first, the King followed him, while the second masked figure closed the procession. In this manner they passed along a winding gallery of some length, with as many staircases leading out of it as are to be found in the mysterious and gloomy palace of Ann Radcliffe. All these windings, throughout which the King heard the sound of falling water over his head, ended at last in a long corridor closed by an iron door. The figure with the lamp opened the door with one of the keys he wore suspended at his girdle, where during the whole of the time the King had heard them rattle. As soon as the door was opened and admitted the air, Louis recognized the balmy odors which the trees exhale after a hot summer’s day. He paused hesitatingly for a moment or two; but his huge companion who followed him thrust him out of the subterranean passage.