“Is it possible?” exclaimed Fouquet.
“The same noble character in their features, the same carriage, the same stature, the same voice.”
“But their thoughts; degree of intelligence; their knowledge of human life?”
“There is inequality there, I admit, Monseigneur. Yes, for the prisoner of the Bastille is most incontestably superior in every way to his brother; and if from his prison this unhappy victim were to pass to the throne, France would not from the earliest period of its history, perhaps, have had a master more powerful by his genius and true nobleness of character.”
Fouquet buried his face in his hands, as if he were overwhelmed by the weight of this immense secret.
Aramis approached him. “There is a further inequality,” he said, continuing his work of temptation,- “an inequality which concerns yourself, Monseigneur,- between the twins, sons of Louis XIII; namely, the last comer does not know M. Colbert.”
Fouquet raised his head immediately; his features were pale and distorted. The bolt had hit its mark- not his heart, but his mind and comprehension.
“I understand you,” he said to Aramis; “you are proposing conspiracy to me?”
“Something like it.”
“One of those attempts which, as you said at the beginning of this conversation, alter the fate of empires?”
“And of superintendents; yes, Monseigneur.”
“In a word, you propose to me that I should assist in the substitution of the son of Louis XIII who is now a prisoner in the Bastille for the son of Louis XIII who is now at this moment asleep in the Chamber of Morpheus?”
Aramis smiled with the sinister expression of his sinister thought. “Perhaps,” he said.
“But,” said Fouquet, after a painful silence, “you have not reflected that such a political enterprise must overturn the entire kingdom; and that after pulling up that widely-rooted tree that is called a King, to replace it by another, the earth around will never again become so firm that the new King may be secure against the wind that remains of the former tempest, and against the oscillations of his own bulk.”
Aramis continued to smile.
“Have you thought,” continued Fouquet, becoming animated with that power of genius which in a few seconds originates and matures the conception of a plan, and with that largeness of view which foresees all its consequences and embraces all its results,- “have you thought that we must assemble the nobility, the clergy, and the third estate of the realm; that we shall have to depose the reigning sovereign, to disturb by a frightful scandal the tomb of their dead father, to sacrifice the life, the honor, of a woman (Anne of Austria), the life and peace of another woman (Maria Theresa)? And suppose that all were done, if we were to succeed in doing it-”
“I do not understand you,” continued Aramis, coldly. “There is not a single word of the slightest use in what you have just said.”
“What!” said the superintendent, surprised; “a man like you refuse to view the practical bearings of the case? Do you confine yourself to the childish delight of a political illusion, and neglect the chances of fulfilment,- in other words, the reality? Is it possible?”
“My friend,” said Aramis, emphasizing the word with a kind of disdainful familiarity, “what does God do in order to substitute one king for another?”
“God!” exclaimed Fouquet,- “God gives directions to his agent, who seizes upon the doomed victim, hurries him away, and seats the triumphant rival on the empty throne. But you forget that this agent is called death. Oh, M. d’Herblay! in Heaven’s name, tell me if you have had the idea-”
“There is no question of that, Monseigneur,- you are going beyond the object in view. Who spoke of Louis XIV’s death; who spoke of adopting the example of God in the strict method of his works? No; I wish you to understand that God effects his purposes without confusion, without scandal, without effort, and that men inspired by God succeed like him in all their undertakings, in all they attempt, in all they do.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, my friend,” returned Aramis, with the same intonation on the word “friend” that he had applied to it the first time,- “I mean that if there has been any confusion, scandal, and even effort in the substitution of the prisoner for the King, I defy you to prove it.”