Ten Years Later. Part two
Dumas, Alexandre – Ten Years Later
had fixed. But in the midst of his ardent labor, the soft
strokes upon the little bell placed behind the glass sounded
again, hasty, and, consequently, more urgent.
“The lady appears to be impatient,” said Fouquet. “Humph! a
calm! That must be the comtesse; but, no, the comtesse is
gone to Rambouillet for three days. The presidente, then?
Oh! no, the presidente would not assume such grand airs; she
would ring very humbly, then she would wait my good
pleasure. The greatest certainty is, that I do not know who
it can be, but that I know who it cannot be. And since it is
not you, marquise, since it cannot be you, deuce take the
rest!” And he went on with his work in spite of the
reiterated appeals of the bell. At the end of a quarter of
an hour, however, impatience prevailed over Fouquet in his
turn: he might be said to consume, rather than to complete
the rest of his work; he thrust his papers into his
portfolio, and giving a glance at the mirror, whilst the
taps continued faster than ever: “Oh! oh!” said he, “whence
comes all this racket? What has happened, and who can the
Ariadne be who expects me so impatiently. Let us see!”
He then applied the tip of his finger to the nail parallel
to the one he had drawn. Immediately the glass moved like a
folding-door and discovered a secret closet, rather deep, in
which the superintendent disappeared as if going into a vast
box. When there, he touched another spring, which opened,
not a board, but a block of the wall, and he went out by
that opening, leaving the door to shut of itself. Then
Fouquet descended about a score of steps which sank,
winding, underground, and came to a long, subterranean
passage, lighted by imperceptible loopholes. The walls of
this vault were covered with slabs or tiles, and the floor
with carpeting. This passage was under the street itself,
which separated Fouquet’s house from the Park of Vincennes.
At the end of the passage ascended a winding staircase
parallel with that by which Fouquet had entered. He mounted
these other stairs, entered by means of a spring placed in a
closet similar to that in his cabinet, and from this closet
an untenanted chamber furnished with the utmost elegance. As
soon as he entered, he examined carefully whether the glass
closed without leaving any trace, and, doubtless satisfied
with his observation, he opened by means of a small gold key
the triple fastenings of a door in front of him. This time
the door opened upon a handsome cabinet sumptuously
furnished, in which was seated upon cushions a lady of
surpassing beauty, who at the sound of the lock sprang
towards Fouquet. “Ah! good heavens!” cried the latter,
starting back with astonishment. “Madame la Marquise de
Belliere, you here?”
“Yes,” murmured la marquise. “Yes; it is I, monsieur.”
“Marquise! dear marquise!” added Fouquet, ready to prostrate
himself. “Ah! my God! how did you come here? And I, to keep
you waiting!”
“A long time, monsieur; yes, a very long time!”
“I am happy in thinking this waiting has appeared long to
you, marquise!”
“Oh! an eternity, monsieur; oh! I rang more than twenty
times. Did you not hear me?”
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Dumas, Alexandre – Ten Years Later
“Marquise, you are pale, you tremble.”
“Did you not hear, then, that you were summoned?”
“Oh, yes; I heard plainly enough, madame; but I could not
come. After your rigors and your refusals, how could I dream
it was you? If I could have had any suspicion of the
happiness that awaited me, believe me, madame, I would have
quitted everything to fall at your feet, as I do at this
moment.”
“Are we quite alone, monsieur?” asked the marquise, looking
round the room.
“Oh, yes, madame, I can assure you of that.”
“Really?” said the marquise, in a melancholy tone.
“You sigh!” said Fouquet.
“What mysteries! what precautions!” said the marquise, with
a slight bitterness of expression; “and how evident it is
that you fear the least suspicion of your amours to escape.”