“I am going with you,” said the bishop.
“Where to?”
“To M. Fouquet; I wish to be a witness of his delight.”
“Ah, Aramis, how you puzzled me just now!” said d’Artagnan, again.
“But you understand now, I suppose?”
“Of course I understand,” he said aloud; but then he added in a low tone to himself, almost hissing the words through his teeth, “No, no! I do not understand yet. But it is all the same,- here is the order”; and then he added, “I will lead the way, Monseigneur,” and he conducted Aramis to Fouquet’s apartments.
Chapter XLIX: The King’s Friend
FOUQUET was waiting with anxiety; he had already sent away many of his servants and his friends, who, anticipating the usual hour of his ordinary receptions, had called at his door to inquire after him. Preserving the utmost silence respecting the danger suspended over his head, he only asked them- as he did every one, indeed, who came to the door- where Aramis was. When he saw d’Artagnan return, and when he perceived the Bishop of Vannes behind him, he could hardly restrain his delight; it was fully equal to his previous uneasiness. The mere sight of Aramis was a complete compensation to the superintendent for the unhappiness he had undergone in being arrested. The prelate was silent and grave, d’Artagnan completely bewildered by such an accumulation of events.
“Well, Captain, so you have brought M. d’Herblay to me?”
“And something better still, Monseigneur.”
“What is that?”
“Liberty.”
“I am free?”
“Yes,- by the King’s order.”
Fouquet resumed his usual serenity that he might interrogate Aramis with his look.
“Oh, yes; you can thank M. the Bishop of Vannes,” pursued d’Artagnan, “for it is indeed to him that you owe the change that has taken place in the King.”
“Oh!” said Fouquet, more humiliated at the service than grateful at its success.
“But you,” continued d’Artagnan, addressing Aramis,- “you who have become M. Fouquet’s protector and patron,- can you not do something for me?”
“Anything you like, my friend,” replied the bishop, in a calm voice.
“One thing only, then, and I shall be perfectly satisfied. How have you managed to become the favorite of the King, you who have never spoken to him more than twice in your life?”
“From a friend such as you are,” said Aramis, “I cannot conceal anything.”
“Ah, very good! tell me, then.”
“Very well. You think that I have seen the King only twice, while the fact is I have seen him more than a hundred times; only we have kept it very secret, that is all.” And without trying to remove the color which at this revelation made d’Artagnan’s face flush scarlet, Aramis turned towards M. Fouquet, who was as much surprised as the musketeer. “Monseigneur,” he resumed, “the King desires me to inform you that he is more than ever your friend, and that the beautiful fete so generously offered by you on his behalf has touched him to the heart.”
And thereupon he saluted M. Fouquet with so much reverence of manner that the latter, unable to understand a man whose diplomacy was of so prodigious a character, remained incapable of uttering a single syllable, and equally incapable of thought or movement. D’Artagnan fancied that these two men had something to say to each other, and he was about to yield to that feeling of instinctive politeness which hurries a man towards the door when he feels his presence is an inconvenience for others; but his eager curiosity, spurred on by so many mysteries, counselled him to remain.
Aramis thereupon turned towards him, and said in a quiet tone, “You will not forget, my friend, the King’s order respecting those whom he intends to receive this morning on rising.” These words were clear enough, and the musketeer understood them; he therefore bowed to Fouquet, and then to Aramis,- to the latter with a slight admixture of ironical respect,- and disappeared.
No sooner had he left than Fouquet, whose impatience had hardly been able to wait for that moment, darted towards the door to close it; and then returning to the bishop, he said, “My dear d’Herblay, I think it now high time you should explain to me what has passed, for, in plain and honest truth, I do not understand anything.”