“And you are forgiven, my dear M. Fouquet,” said the King, with a smile which restored the serene expression of his features, which so many circumstances had altered since the preceding evening.
“I have my own forgiveness,” replied the minister, with some degree of persistence; “but M. d’Herblay and M. du Vallon?”
“They will never obtain theirs as long as I live,” replied the inflexible King. “Do me the kindness not to speak of it again.”
“Your Majesty shall be obeyed.”
“And you will bear me no ill-will for it?”
“Oh, no, Sire,- for I anticipated it.”
“You had ‘anticipated’ that I should refuse to forgive those gentlemen?”
“Certainly; and all my measures were taken in consequence.”
“What do you mean to say?” cried the King, surprised.
“M. d’Herblay came, so to speak, to deliver himself into my hands. M. d’Herblay left to me the happiness of saving my King and my country. I could not condemn M. d’Herblay to death; nor could I, on the other hand, expose him to your Majesty’s most justifiable wrath,- it would have been just the same as if I had killed him myself.”
“Well; and what have you done?”
“Sire, I gave M. d’Herblay the best horses in my stables, and four hours’ start over those your Majesty will despatch after him.”
“Be it so!” murmured the King. “But still, the world is large enough for those whom I may send to overtake your horses, notwithstanding the ‘four hours’ start’ which you have given to M. d’Herblay.”
“In giving him those four hours, Sire, I knew I was giving him his life; and he will save his life.”
“In what way?”
“After having galloped as hard as possible, with the four hours’ start over your Musketeers, he will reach my chateau of Belle-Isle, where I have given him a safe asylum.”
“That may be! but you forget that you have made me a present of Belle-Isle.”
“But not for you to arrest my friends.”
“You take it back again, then?”
“As far as that goes,- yes, Sire.”
“My Musketeers will capture it, and the affair will be at an end.”
“Neither your Musketeers nor your whole army could take Belle-Isle,” said Fouquet, coldly. “Belle-Isle is impregnable.”
The King became livid; a lightning flash darted from his eyes. Fouquet felt that he was lost, but he was not one to shrink when the voice of honor spoke loudly within him. He bore the King’s wrathful gaze; the latter swallowed his rage, and after a few moments’ silence, said, “Are we going to return to Vaux?”
“I am at your Majesty’s orders,” replied Fouquet, with a low bow; “but I think that your Majesty can hardly dispense with changing your clothes previous to appearing before your court.”
“We shall pass by the Louvre,” said the King. “Come.” And they left the prison, passing before Baisemeaux, who looked completely bewildered as he saw Marchiali once more leave, and in his helplessness tore out the few remaining hairs he had left. It is true that Fouquet wrote and gave him an authority for the prisoner’s release, and that the King wrote beneath it, “Seen and approved, Louis,”- a piece of madness that Baisemeaux, incapable of putting two ideas together, acknowledged by giving himself a terrible blow with his fist on his jaws.
Chapter LII: The False King
IN THE mean time, usurped royalty was playing out its part bravely at Vaux. Philippe gave orders that for his petit lever, the grandes entrees, already prepared to appear before the King, should be introduced. He determined to give this order notwithstanding the absence of M. d’Herblay, who did not return, and our readers know for what reason. But the Prince, not believing that the absence could be prolonged, wished, as all rash spirits do, to try his valor and his fortune independently of all protection and all counsel. Another reason urged him to this,- Anne of Austria was about to appear; the guilty mother was about to stand in the presence of her sacrificed son. Philippe was not willing, if he should betray any weakness, to render the man a witness of it before whom he was bound thenceforth to display so much strength.