Man in the Iron Mask — 61a – Epilogue (Part 1)
Epilogue.
Four years after the scene we have just described, two horsemen, well mounted, traversed Blois early in the morning, for the purpose of arranging a hawking party the king had arranged to make in that uneven plain the Loire divides in two, which borders on the one side Meung, on the other Amboise.
These were the keeper of the king’s harriers and the master of the falcons, personages greatly respected in the time of Louis XIII.
, but rather neglected by his successor.
The horsemen, having reconnoitered the ground, were returning, their observations made, when they perceived certain little groups of soldiers, here and there, whom the sergeants were placing at distances at the openings of the inclosures.
These were the king’s musketeers.
Behind them came, upon a splendid horse, the captain, known by his richly embroidered uniform.
His hair was gray, his beard turning so.
He seemed a little bent, although sitting and handling his horse gracefully.
He was looking about him watchfully.
“M. d’Artagnan does not get any older,” said the keeper of the harriers to his colleague the falconer; “with ten years more to carry than either of us, he has the seat of a young man on horseback.
” “That is true,” replied the falconer.
“I don’t see any change in him for the last twenty years.
” But this officer was mistaken; D’Artagnan in the last four years had lived a dozen.
Age had printed its pitiless claws at each angle of his eyes; his brow was bald; his hands, formerly brown and nervous, were getting white, as if the blood had half forgotten them.
D’Artagnan accosted the officers with the shade of affability which distinguishes superiors, and received in turn for his courtesy two most respectful bows.
“Ah!
what a lucky chance to see you here, Monsieur d’Artagnan!
” cried the falconer.
“It is rather I who should say that, messieurs,” replied the captain, “for nowadays, the king makes more frequent use of his musketeers than of his falcons.
” “Ah!
it is not as it was in the good old times,” sighed the falconer.
“Do you remember, Monsieur d’Artagnan, when the late king flew the pie in the vineyards beyond Beaugence?
Ah!
_dame!
_ you were not the captain of the musketeers at that time, Monsieur d’Artagnan.
” [7] “And you were nothing but under-corporal of the tiercelets,” replied D’Artagnan, laughing.
“Never mind that, it was a good time, seeing that it is always a good time when we are young.
Good day, monsieur the keeper of the harriers.
” “You do me honor, monsieur le comte,” said the latter.
D’Artagnan made no reply.
The title of comte had hardly struck him; D’Artagnan had been a comte four years.
“Are you not very much fatigued with the long journey you have taken, monsieur le capitaine?
” continued the falconer.
“It must be full two hundred leagues from hence to Pignerol.
” “Two hundred and sixty to go, and as many to return,” said D’Artagnan, quietly.
“And,” said the falconer, “is _he_ well?
” “Who?
” asked D’Artagnan.
“Why, poor M. Fouquet,” continued the falconer, in a low voice.
The keeper of the harriers had prudently withdrawn.
“No,” replied D’Artagnan, “the poor man frets terribly; he cannot comprehend how imprisonment can be a favor; he says that parliament absolved him by banishing him, and banishment is, or should be, liberty.
He cannot imagine that they had sworn his death, and that to save his life from the claws of parliament was to be under too much obligation to Heaven.
” “Ah!
yes; the poor man had a close chance of the scaffold,” replied the falconer; “it is said that M. Colbert had given orders to the governor of the Bastile, and that the execution was ordered.
” “Enough!
” said D’Artagnan, pensively, and with a view of cutting short the conversation.
“Yes,” said the keeper of the harriers, drawing towards them, “M. Fouquet is now at Pignerol; he has richly deserved it.
He had the good fortune to be conducted there by you; he robbed the king sufficiently.
” D’Artagnan launched at the master of the dogs one of his crossest looks, and said to him, “Monsieur, if any one told me you had eaten your dogs’ meat, not only would I refuse to believe it; but still more, if you were condemned to the lash or to jail for it, I should pity you and would not allow people to speak ill of you.
And yet, monsieur, honest man as you may be, I assure you that you are not more so than poor M. Fouquet was.
” After having undergone this sharp rebuke, the keeper of the harriers hung his head, and allowed the falconer to get two steps in advance of him nearer to D’Artagnan.
“He is content,” said the falconer, in a low voice, to the musketeer;
“we all know that harriers are in fashion nowadays; if he were a falconer he would not talk in that way.
” D’Artagnan smiled in a melancholy manner at seeing this great political question resolved by the discontent of such humble interest.
He for a moment ran over in his mind the glorious existence of the surintendant, the crumbling of his fortunes, and the melancholy death that awaited him; and to conclude, “Did M. Fouquet love falconry?
” said he.
“Oh, passionately, monsieur!
” repeated the falconer, with an accent of bitter regret and a sigh that was the funeral oration of Fouquet.
D’Artagnan allowed the ill-humor of the one and the regret of the other to pass, and continued to advance.
They could already catch glimpses of the huntsmen at the issue of the wood, the feathers of the outriders passing like shooting stars across the clearings, and the white horses skirting the bosky thickets looking like illuminated apparitions.
“But,” resumed D’Artagnan, “will the sport last long?
Pray, give us a good swift bird, for I am very tired.
Is it a heron or a swan?
” “Both, Monsieur d’Artagnan,” said the falconer; “but you need not be alarmed; the king is not much of a sportsman; he does not take the field on his own account, he only wishes to amuse the ladies.
” The words “to amuse the ladies” were so strongly accented they set D’Artagnan thinking.
“Ah!
” said he, looking keenly at the falconer.
The keeper of the harriers smiled, no doubt with a view of making it up with the musketeer.
“Oh!
you may safely laugh,” said D’Artagnan; “I know nothing of current news; I only arrived yesterday, after a month’s absence.
I left the court mourning the death of the queen-mother.
The king was not willing to take any amusement after receiving the last sigh of Anne of Austria;
but everything comes to an end in this world.
Well!
then he is no longer sad?
So much the better.
” [8] “And everything begins as well as ends,” said the keeper with a coarse laugh.
“Ah!
” said D’Artagnan, a second time,--he burned to know, but dignity would not allow him to interrogate people below him,--“there is something beginning, then, it seems?
” The keeper gave him a significant wink; but D’Artagnan was unwilling to learn anything from this man.
“Shall we see the king early?
” asked he of the falconer.
“At seven o’clock, monsieur, I shall fly the birds.
” “Who comes with the king?
How is Madame?
How is the queen?
” “Better, monsieur.
” “Has she been ill, then?
” “Monsieur, since the last chagrin she suffered, her majesty has been unwell.
” “What chagrin?
You need not fancy your news is old.
I have but just returned.
” “It appears that the queen, a little neglected since the death of her mother-in-law, complained to the king, who answered her,--‘Do I not sleep at home every night, madame?
What more do you expect?
’” “Ah!
” said D’Artagnan,--“poor woman!
She must heartily hate Mademoiselle de la Vallière.
” “Oh, no!
not Mademoiselle de la Vallière,” replied the falconer.
“Who then--” The blast of a hunting-horn interrupted this conversation.
It summoned the dogs and the hawks.
The falconer and his companions set off immediately, leaving D’Artagnan alone in the midst of the suspended sentence.
The king appeared at a distance, surrounded by ladies and horsemen.
All the troop advanced in beautiful order, at a foot’s pace, the horns of various sorts animating the dogs and horses.
There was an animation in the scene, a mirage of light, of which nothing now can give an idea, unless it be the fictitious splendor of a theatric spectacle.
D’Artagnan, with an eye a little, just a little, dimmed by age, distinguished behind the group three carriages.
The first was intended for the queen; it was empty.
D’Artagnan, who did not see Mademoiselle de la Vallière by the king’s side, on looking about for her, saw her in the second carriage.
She was alone with two of her women, who seemed as dull as their mistress.
On the left hand of the king, upon a high-spirited horse, restrained by a bold and skillful hand, shone a lady of most dazzling beauty.
The king smiled upon her, and she smiled upon the king.
Loud laughter followed every word she uttered.
“I must know that woman,” thought the musketeer; “who can she be?
” And he stooped towards his friend, the falconer, to whom he addressed the question he had put to himself.
The falconer was about to reply, when the king, perceiving D’Artagnan, “Ah, comte!
” said he, “you are amongst us once more then!
Why have I not seen you?
” “Sire,” replied the captain, “because your majesty was asleep when I arrived, and not awake when I resumed my duties this morning.
” “Still the same,” said Louis, in a loud voice, denoting satisfaction.
“Take some rest, comte; I command you to do so.
You will dine with me to-day.
” A murmur of admiration surrounded D’Artagnan like a caress.
Every one was eager to salute him.
Dining with the king was an honor his majesty was not so prodigal of as Henry IV.
had been.
The king passed a few steps in advance, and D’Artagnan found himself in the midst of a fresh group, among whom shone Colbert.
“Good-day, Monsieur d’Artagnan,” said the minister, with marked affability, “have you had a pleasant journey?
” “Yes, monsieur,” said D’Artagnan, bowing to the neck of his horse.
“I heard the king invite you to his table for this evening,” continued the minister; “you will meet an old friend there.
” “An old friend of mine?
” asked D’Artagnan, plunging painfully into the dark waves of the past, which had swallowed up for him so many friendships and so many hatreds.
“M. le Duc d’Almeda, who is arrived this morning from Spain.
” “The Duc d’Almeda?
” said D’Artagnan, reflecting in vain.
“Here!
” cried an old man, white as snow, sitting bent in his carriage, which he caused to be thrown open to make room for the musketeer.
“_Aramis!
_” cried D’Artagnan, struck with profound amazement.
And he felt, inert as it was, the thin arm of the old nobleman hanging round his neck.
Colbert, after having observed them in silence for a few moments, urged his horse forward, and left the two old friends together.
“And so,” said the musketeer, taking Aramis’s arm, “you, the exile, the rebel, are again in France?
” “Ah!
and I shall dine with you at the king’s table,” said Aramis, smiling.
“Yes, will you not ask yourself what is the use of fidelity in this world?
Stop!
let us allow poor La Vallière’s carriage to pass.
Look, how uneasy she is!
How her eyes, dim with tears, follow the king, who is riding on horseback yonder!
” “With whom?
” “With Mademoiselle de Tonnay-Charente, now Madame de Montespan,” replied Aramis.
“She is jealous.
Is she then deserted?
” “Not quite yet, but it will not be long before she _is_.
” [9] They chatted together, while following the sport, and Aramis’s coachman drove them so cleverly that they arrived at the instant when the falcon, attacking the bird, beat him down, and fell upon him.
The king alighted;
Madame de Montespan followed his example.
They were in front of an isolated chapel, concealed by huge trees, already despoiled of their leaves by the first cutting winds of autumn.
Behind this chapel was an inclosure, closed by a latticed gate.
The falcon had beaten down his prey in the inclosure belonging to this little chapel, and the king was desirous of going in to take the first feather, according to custom.
The _cortege_ formed a circle round the building and the hedges, too small to receive so many.
D’Artagnan held back Aramis by the arm, as he was about, like the rest, to alight from his carriage, and in a hoarse, broken voice, “Do you know, Aramis,” said he, “whither chance has conducted us?
” “No,” replied the duke.
“Here repose men that we knew well,” said D’Artagnan, greatly agitated.
Aramis, without divining anything, and with a trembling step, penetrated into the chapel by a little door which D’Artagnan opened for him.
“Where are they buried?
” said he.
“There, in the inclosure.
There is a cross, you see, beneath yon little cypress.
The tree of grief is planted over their tomb; don’t go to it;
the king is going that way; the heron has fallen just there.
” Aramis stopped, and concealed himself in the shade.
They then saw, without being seen, the pale face of La Vallière, who, neglected in her carriage, at first looked on, with a melancholy heart, from the door, and then, carried away by jealousy, advanced into the chapel, whence, leaning against a pillar, she contemplated the king smiling and making signs to Madame de Montespan to approach, as there was nothing to be afraid of.
Madame de Montespan complied; she took the hand the king held out to her, and he, plucking out the first feather from the heron, which the falconer had strangled, placed it in his beautiful companion’s hat.
She, smiling in her turn, kissed the hand tenderly which made her this present.
The king grew scarlet with vanity and pleasure; he looked at Madame de Montespan with all the fire of new love.
“What will you give me in exchange?
” said he.
She broke off a little branch of cypress and offered it to the king, who looked intoxicated with hope.
“Humph!
” said Aramis to D’Artagnan; “the present is but a sad one, for that cypress shades a tomb.
” “Yes, and the tomb is that of Raoul de Bragelonne,” said D’Artagnan aloud; “of Raoul, who sleeps under that cross with his father.
” A groan resounded--they saw a woman fall fainting to the ground.
Mademoiselle de la Vallière had seen all, heard all.
“Poor woman!
” muttered D’Artagnan, as he helped the attendants to carry back to her carriage the lonely lady whose lot henceforth in life was suffering.
That evening D’Artagnan was seated at the king’s table, near M. Colbert and M. le Duc d’Almeda.
The king was very gay.
He paid a thousand little attentions to the queen, a thousand kindnesses to Madame, seated at his left hand, and very sad.
It might have been supposed that time of calm when the king was wont to watch his mother’s eyes for the approval or disapproval of what he had just done.
Of mistresses there was no question at this dinner.
The king addressed Aramis two or three times, calling him M. l’ambassadeur, which increased the surprise already felt by D’Artagnan at seeing his friend the rebel so marvelously well received at court.
The king, on rising from table, gave his hand to the queen, and made a sign to Colbert, whose eye was on his master’s face.
Colbert took D’Artagnan and Aramis on one side.
The king began to chat with his sister, whilst Monsieur, very uneasy, entertained the queen with a preoccupied air, without ceasing to watch his wife and brother from the corner of his eye.
The conversation between Aramis, D’Artagnan, and Colbert turned upon indifferent subjects.
They spoke of preceding ministers; Colbert related the successful tricks of Mazarin, and desired those of Richelieu to be related to him.
D’Artagnan could not overcome his surprise at finding this man, with his heavy eyebrows and low forehead, display so much sound knowledge and cheerful spirits.
Aramis was astonished at that lightness of character which permitted this serious man to retard with advantage the moment for more important conversation, to which nobody made any allusion, although all three interlocutors felt its imminence.
It was very plain, from the embarrassed appearance of Monsieur, how much the conversation of the king and Madame annoyed him.
Madame’s eyes were almost red: was she going to complain?
Was she going to expose a little scandal in open court?
The king took her on one side, and in a tone so tender that it must have reminded the princess of the time when she was loved for herself: “Sister,” said he, “why do I see tears in those lovely eyes?
” “Why--sire--” said she.
“Monsieur is jealous, is he not, sister?
” She looked towards Monsieur, an infallible sign that they were talking about him.
“Yes,” said she.
“Listen to me,” said the king; “if your friends compromise you, it is not Monsieur’s fault.
” He spoke these words with so much kindness that Madame, encouraged, having borne so many solitary griefs so long, was nearly bursting into tears, so full was her heart.
“Come, come, dear little sister,” said the king, “tell me your griefs;
on the word of a brother, I pity them; on the word of a king, I will put an end to them.
” She raised her glorious eyes and, in a melancholy tone: “It is not my friends who compromise me,” said she; “they are either absent or concealed; they have been brought into disgrace with your majesty; they, so devoted, so good, so loyal!
” “You say this on account of De Guiche, whom I have exiled, at Monsieur’s desire?
” “And who, since that unjust exile, has endeavored to get himself killed once every day.
” “Unjust, say you, sister?
” “So unjust, that if I had not had the respect mixed with friendship that I have always entertained for your majesty--” “Well!
” “Well!
I would have asked my brother Charles, upon whom I can always--” The king started.
“What, then?
” “I would have asked him to have had it represented to you that Monsieur and his favorite M. le Chevalier de Lorraine ought not with impunity to constitute themselves the executioners of my honor and my happiness.
” “The Chevalier de Lorraine,” said the king; “that dismal fellow?
” “Is my mortal enemy.
Whilst that man lives in my household, where Monsieur retains him and delegates his power to him, I shall be the most miserable woman in the kingdom.
” “So,” said the king, slowly, “you call your brother of England a better friend than I am?
” “Actions speak for themselves, sire.
” “And you would prefer going to ask assistance there--” “To my own country!
” said she with pride; “yes, sire.
” “You are the grandchild of Henry IV.
as well as myself, lady.
Cousin and brother-in-law, does not that amount pretty well to the title of brother-germain?
” “Then,” said Henrietta, “act!
” “Let us form an alliance.
” “Begin.
” “I have, you say, unjustly exiled De Guiche.
” “Oh!
yes,” said she, blushing.
“De Guiche shall return.
” [10] “So far, well.
” “And now you say that I do wrong in having in your household the Chevalier de Lorraine, who gives Monsieur ill advice respecting you?
” “Remember well what I tell you, sire; the Chevalier de Lorraine some day--Observe, if ever I come to a dreadful end, I beforehand accuse the Chevalier de Lorraine; he has a spirit that is capable of any crime!
” “The Chevalier de Lorraine shall no longer annoy you--I promise you that.
” [11] “Then that will be a true preliminary of alliance, sire,--I sign; but since you have done your part, tell me what shall be mine.
” “Instead of embroiling me with your brother Charles, you must make him a more intimate friend than ever.
” “That is very easy.
” “Oh!
not quite so easy as you may suppose, for in ordinary friendship people embrace or exercise hospitality, and that only costs a kiss or a return, profitable expenses; but in political friendship--” “Ah!
it’s a political friendship, is it?
” “Yes, my sister; and then, instead of embraces and feasts, it is soldiers--it is soldiers all alive and well equipped--that we must serve up to our friends; vessels we must offer, all armed with cannons and stored with provisions.
It hence results that we have not always coffers in a fit condition for such friendships.
” “Ah!
you are quite right,” said Madame; “the coffers of the king of England have been sonorous for some time.
” “But you, my sister, who have so much influence over your brother, you can secure more than an ambassador could ever get the promise of.
” “To effect that I must go to London, my dear brother.
” “I have thought so,” replied the king, eagerly; “and I have said to myself that such a voyage would do your health and spirits good.
” “Only,” interrupted Madame, “it is possible I should fail.
The king of England has dangerous counselors.
” “Counselors, do you say?
” “Precisely.
If, by chance, your majesty had any intention--I am only supposing so--of asking Charles II.
his alliance in a war--” “A war?
” “Yes; well!
then the king’s counselors, who are in number seven--Mademoiselle Stewart, Mademoiselle Wells, Mademoiselle Gwyn, Miss Orchay, Mademoiselle Zunga, Miss Davies, and the proud Countess of Castlemaine--will represent to the king that war costs a great deal of money; that it is better to give balls and suppers at Hampton Court than to equip ships of the line at Portsmouth and Greenwich.
” “And then your negotiations will fail?
” “Oh!
those ladies cause all negotiations to fall through which they don’t make themselves.
” “Do you know the idea that has struck me, sister?
” “No; inform me what it is.
” “It is that, searching well around you, you might perhaps find a female counselor to take with you to your brother, whose eloquence might paralyze the ill-will of the seven others.
” “That is really an idea, sire, and I will search.
” “You will find what you want.
” “I hope so.
” “A pretty ambassadress is necessary; an agreeable face is better than an ugly one, is it not?
” “Most assuredly.
” “An animated, lively, audacious character.
” “Certainly.
” “Nobility; that is, enough to enable her to approach the king without awkwardness--not too lofty, so as not to trouble herself about the dignity of her race.
” “Very true.
” “And who knows a little English.
” “_Mon Dieu!
_ why, some one,” cried Madame, “like Mademoiselle de Keroualle, for instance!
” “Oh!
why, yes!
” said Louis XIV.
; “you have hit the mark,--it is you who have found, my sister.
” “I will take her; she will have no cause to complain, I suppose.
” “Oh!
no, I will name her _seductrice plenipotentiaire_ at once, and will add a dowry to the title.
” “That is well.
” “I fancy you already on your road, my dear little sister, consoled for all your griefs.
” “I will go, on two conditions.
The first is, that I shall know what I am negotiating about.
” “That is it.
The Dutch, you know, insult me daily in their gazettes, and by their republican attitude.
I do not like republics.
” “That may easily be imagined, sire.
” “I see with pain that these kings of the sea--they call themselves so--keep trade from France in the Indies, and that their vessels will soon occupy all the ports of Europe.
Such a power is too near me, sister.
” “They are your allies, nevertheless.
” “That is why they were wrong in having the medal you have heard of struck; a medal which represents Holland stopping the sun, as Joshua did, with this legend: _The sun had stopped before me_.
There is not much fraternity in that, _is_ there?
