“It is the prisoner,” said the superintendent to Baisemeaux, “whom M. d’Herblay carried away the day before yesterday?”
“Yes, Monseigneur.”
“And whom he brought back this morning?” added Fouquet, quickly, for he understood immediately the mechanism of Aramis’s plan.
“Precisely, Monseigneur.”
“And his name is Marchiali, you say?”
“Yes; Marchiali. If Monseigneur has come here to remove him, so much the better, for I was going to write about him.”
“What has he done, then?”
“Ever since this morning, he has annoyed me extremely. He has had such terrible fits of passion as almost to make me believe that he would bring the Bastille itself down about our ears.”
“I will soon relieve you of his presence,” said Fouquet.
“Ah! so much the better.”
“Conduct me to his prison.”
“Will Monseigneur give me the order?”
“What order?”
“An order from the King.”
“Wait until I sign you one.”
“That will not be sufficient, Monseigneur; I must have an order from the King.”
Fouquet assumed an irritated expression. “As you are so scrupulous,” he said, “with regard to allowing prisoners to leave, show me the order by which this one was set at liberty.”
Baisemeaux showed him the order to release Seldon.
“Very good,” said Fouquet; “but Seldon is not Marchiali.”
“But Marchiali is not at liberty; he is here.”
“But you said that M. d’Herblay carried him away and brought him back again.”
“I did not say so.”
“So surely did you say it that I almost seem to hear it now.”
“It was a slip of my tongue, then, Monseigneur.”
“Take care, M. Baisemeaux, take care!”
“I have nothing to fear, Monseigneur; I am acting according to strict regulation.”
“Do you dare to say so?”
“I would say so in the presence of an apostle. M. d’Herblay brought me an order to set Seldon at liberty; and Seldon is free.”
“I tell you that Marchiali has left the Bastille.”
“You must prove that, Monseigneur.”
“Let me see him.”
“You, Monseigneur, who govern in this kingdom, know very well that no one can see any of the prisoners without an express order from the King.”
“M. d’Herblay has entered, however.”
“That is to be proved, Monseigneur.”
“M. de Baisemeaux, once more I warn you to pay particular attention to what you are saying.”
“All the documents are there, Monseigneur.”
“M. d’Herblay is overthrown.”
“Overthrown,- M. d’Herblay? Impossible!”
“You see that he has influenced you.”
“What influences me, Monseigneur, is the King’s service. I am doing my duty. Give me an order from him, and you shall enter.”
“Stay, Monsieur the Governor! I give you my word that if you allow me to see the prisoner I will give you an order from the King at once.”
“Give it to me now, Monseigneur.”
“And that if you refuse me I will have you and all your officers arrested on the spot.”
“Before you commit such an act of violence, Monseigneur, you will reflect'” said Baisemeaux, who had turned very pale, “that we will only obey an order signed by the King; and that it will be just as easy for you to obtain one to see Marchiali as to obtain one to do so much injury to me, who am innocent.”
“True, true!” cried Fouquet, furiously,- “perfectly true! M. de Baisemeaux,” he added in a sonorous voice, drawing the unhappy governor towards him, “do you know why I am so anxious to speak to the prisoner?”
“No, Monseigneur; and please observe that you are terrifying me. I tremble, and feel as if I were going to faint.”
“You will faint outright, M. Baisemeaux, when I return here at the head of ten thousand men and thirty pieces of cannon.”
“Good heavens, Monseigneur! you are losing your senses!”
“When I have roused the whole population of Paris against you and your cursed towers, and have battered open the gates of this place, and hanged you up to the bars of that tower in the corner there.”
“Monseigneur, Monseigneur! for pity’s sake!”
“I will give you ten minutes to make up your mind,” added Fouquet, in a calm voice. “I will sit down here in this arm-chair and wait for you. If in ten minutes’ time you still persist, I will leave this place, and you may think me as mad as you like; but you will see!”