Chapter XV. Colbert.

by Alexandre Dumas

　　History will tell us, or rather history has told us, of the variousevents of the following day, of the splendid fetes given by thesurintendant to his sovereign. Nothing but amusement and delight wasallowed to prevail throughout the whole of the following day; there wasa promenade, a banquet, a comedy to be acted, and a comedy, too, inwhich, to his great amazement, Porthos recognized "M. Coquelin deVoliere" as one of the actors, in the piece called "Les Facheux." Fullof preoccupation, however, from the scene of the previous evening, andhardly recovered from the effects of the poison which Colbert had thenadministered to him, the king, during the whole of the day, so brilliantin its effects, so full of unexpected and startling novelties, in whichall the wonders of the "Arabian Night's Entertainments" seemed to bereproduced for his especial amusement - the king, we say, showed himselfcold, reserved, and taciturn. Nothing could smooth the frowns upon hisface; every one who observed him noticed that a deep feeling ofresentment, of remote origin, increased by slow degrees, as the sourcebecomes a river, thanks to the thousand threads of water that increaseits body, was keenly alive in the depths of the king's heart. Towardsthe middle of the day only did he begin to resume a little serenity ofmanner, and by that time he had, in all probability, made up his mind.Aramis, who followed him step by step in his thoughts, as in his walk,concluded that the event he was expecting would not be long before it wasannounced. This time Colbert seemed to walk in concert with the bishopof Vannes, and had he received for every annoyance which he inflicted onthe king a word of direction from Aramis, he could not have done better.During the whole of the day the king, who, in all probability, wished tofree himself from some of the thoughts which disturbed his mind, seemedto seek La Valliere's society as actively as he seemed to show hisanxiety to flee that of M. Colbert or M. Fouquet. The evening came. Theking had expressed a wish not to walk in the park until after cards inthe evening. In the interval between supper and the promenade, cards anddice were introduced. The king won a thousand pistoles, and, having wonthem, put them in his pocket, and then rose, saying, "And now, gentlemen,to the park." He found the ladies of the court were already there. Theking, we have before observed, had won a thousand pistoles, and had putthem in his pocket; but M. Fouquet had somehow contrived to lose tenthousand, so that among the courtiers there was still left a hundred andninety thousand francs' profit to divide, a circumstance which made thecountenances of the courtiers and the officers of the king's householdthe most joyous countenances in the world. It was not the same, however,with the king's face; for, notwithstanding his success at play, to whichhe was by no means insensible, there still remained a slight shade ofdissatisfaction. Colbert was waiting for or upon him at the corner ofone of the avenues; he was most probably waiting there in consequence ofa rendezvous which had been given him by the king, as Louis XIV., who hadavoided him, or who had seemed to avoid him, suddenly made him a sign,and they then struck into the depths of the park together. But LaValliere, too, had observed the king's gloomy aspect and kindlingglances; she had remarked this - and as nothing which lay hidden orsmoldering in his heart was hidden from the gaze of her affection, sheunderstood that this repressed wrath menaced some one; she prepared towithstand the current of his vengeance, and intercede like an angel ofmercy. Overcome by sadness, nervously agitated, deeply distressed athaving been so long separated from her lover, disturbed at the sight ofthe emotion she had divined, she accordingly presented herself to theking with an embarrassed aspect, which in his then disposition of mindthe king interpreted unfavorably. Then, as they were alone - nearlyalone, inasmuch as Colbert, as soon as he perceived the young girlapproaching, had stopped and drawn back a dozen paces - the king advancedtowards La Valliere and took her by the hand. "Mademoiselle," he said toher, "should I be guilty of an indiscretion if I were to inquire if youwere indisposed? for you seem to breathe as if you were oppressed by somesecret cause of uneasiness, and your eyes are filled with tears.""Oh! sire, if I be indeed so, and if my eyes are indeed full of tears, Iam sorrowful only at the sadness which seems to oppress your majesty.""My sadness? You are mistaken, mademoiselle; no, it is not sadness Iexperience.""What is it, then, sire?""Humiliation.""Humiliation? oh! sire, what a word for you to use!""I mean, mademoiselle, that wherever I may happen to be, no one elseought to be the master. Well, then, look round you on every side, andjudge whether I am not eclipsed - I, the king of France - before themonarch of these wide domains. Oh!" he continued, clenching his handsand teeth, "when I think that this king - ""Well, sire?" said Louise, terrified." - That this king is a faithless, unworthy servant, who grows proud andself-sufficient upon the strength of property that belongs to me, andwhich he has stolen. And therefore I am about to change this impudentminister's fete into sorrow and mourning, of which the nymph of Vaux,as the poets say, shall not soon lose the remembrance.""Oh! your majesty - ""Well, mademoiselle, are you about to take M. Fouquet's part?" saidLouis, impatiently."No, sire; I will only ask whether you are well informed. Your majestyhas more than once learned the value of accusations made at court."Louis XIV. made a sign for Colbert to approach. "Speak, MonsieurColbert," said the young prince, "for I almost believe that Mademoisellede la Valliere has need of your assistance before she can put any faithin the king's word. Tell mademoiselle what M. Fouquet has done; and you,mademoiselle, will perhaps have the kindness to listen. It will not belong."Why did Louis XIV. insist upon it in such a manner? A very simple reason- his heart was not at rest, his mind was not thoroughly convinced; heimagined there lay some dark, hidden, tortuous intrigue behind thesethirteen millions of francs; and he wished that the pure heart of LaValliere, which had revolted at the idea of theft or robbery, shouldapprove - even were it only by a single word - the resolution he hadtaken, and which, nevertheless, he hesitated before carrying intoexecution."Speak, monsieur," said La Valliere to Colbert, who had advanced; "speak,since the king wishes me to listen to you. Tell me, what is the crimewith which M. Fouquet is charged?""Oh! not very heinous, mademoiselle," he returned, "a mere abuse ofconfidence.""Speak, speak, Colbert; and when you have related it, leave us, and goand inform M. d'Artagnan that I have certain orders to give him.""M. d'Artagnan, sire!" exclaimed La Valliere; "but why send for M.d'Artagnan? I entreat you to tell me.""Pardieu! in order to arrest this haughty, arrogant Titan who, true tohis menace, threatens to scale my heaven.""Arrest M. Fouquet, do you say?""Ah! does that surprise you?""In his own house!""Why not? If he be guilty, he is as guilty in his own house as anywhereelse.""M. Fouquet, who at this moment is ruining himself for his sovereign.""In plain truth, mademoiselle, it seems as if you were defending thistraitor."Colbert began to chuckle silently. The king turned round at the sound ofthis suppressed mirth."Sire," said La Valliere, "it is not M. Fouquet I am defending; it isyourself.""Me! you are defending me?""Sire, you would dishonor yourself if you were to give such an order.""Dishonor myself!" murmured the king, turning pale with anger. "In plaintruth, mademoiselle, you show a strange persistence in what you say.""If I do, sire, my only motive is that of serving your majesty," repliedthe noble-hearted girl: "for that I would risk, I would sacrifice my verylife, without the least reserve."Colbert seemed inclined to grumble and complain. La Valliere, thattimid, gentle lamb, turned round upon him, and with a glance likelightning imposed silence upon him. "Monsieur," she said, "when the kingacts well, whether, in doing so, he does either myself or those whobelong to me an injury, I have nothing to say; but were the king toconfer a benefit either upon me or mine, and if he acted badly, I shouldtell him so.""But it appears to me, mademoiselle," Colbert ventured to say, "that Itoo love the king.""Yes, monseigneur, we both love him, but each in a different manner,"replied La Valliere, with such an accent that the heart of the young kingwas powerfully affected by it. "I love him so deeply, that the wholeworld is aware of it; so purely, that the king himself does not doubt myaffection. He is my king and my master; I am the least of all hisservants. But whoso touches his honor assails my life. Therefore, Irepeat, that they dishonor the king who advise him to arrest M. Fouquetunder his own roof."Colbert hung down his head, for he felt that the king had abandoned him.However, as he bent his head, he murmured, "Mademoiselle, I have only oneword to say.""Do not say it, then, monsieur; for I would not listen to it. Besides,what could you have to tell me? That M. Fouquet has been guilty ofcertain crimes? I believe he has, because the king has said so; and,from the moment the king said, 'I think so,' I have no occasion for otherlips to say, 'I affirm it.' But, were M. Fouquet the vilest of men, Ishould say aloud, 'M. Fouquet's person is sacred to the king because heis the guest of M. Fouquet. Were his house a den of thieves, were Vaux acave of coiners or robbers, his home is sacred, his palace is inviolable,since his wife is living in it; and that is an asylum which evenexecutioners would not dare to violate.'"La Valliere paused, and was silent. In spite of himself the king couldnot but admire her; he was overpowered by the passionate energy of hervoice; by the nobleness of the cause she advocated. Colbert yielded,overcome by the inequality of the struggle. At last the king breathedagain more freely, shook his head, and held out his hand to La Valliere."Mademoiselle," he said, gently, "why do you decide against me? Do youknow what this wretched fellow will do, if I give him time to breatheagain?""Is he not a prey which will always be within your grasp?""Should he escape, and take to flight?" exclaimed Colbert."Well, monsieur, it will always remain on record, to the king's eternalhonor, that he allowed M. Fouquet to flee; and the more guilty he mayhave been, the greater will the king's honor and glory appear, comparedwith such unnecessary misery and shame."Louis kissed La Valliere's hand, as he knelt before her."I am lost," thought Colbert; then suddenly his face brightened upagain. "Oh! no, no, aha, old fox! - not yet," he said to himself.And while the king, protected from observation by the thick covert of anenormous lime, pressed La Valliere to his breast, with all the ardor ofineffable affection, Colbert tranquilly fumbled among the papers in hispocket-book and drew out of it a paper folded in the form of a letter,somewhat yellow, perhaps, but one that must have been most precious,since the intendant smiled as he looked at it; he then bent a look, fullof hatred, upon the charming group which the young girl and the kingformed together - a group revealed but for a moment, as the light of theapproaching torches shone upon it. Louis noticed the light reflectedupon La Valliere's white dress. "Leave me, Louise," he said, "for someone is coming.""Mademoiselle, mademoiselle, some one is coming," cried Colbert, toexpedite the young girl's departure.Louise disappeared rapidly among the trees; and then, as the king, whohad been on his knees before the young girl, was rising from his humbleposture, Colbert exclaimed, "Ah! Mademoiselle de la Valliere has letsomething fall.""What is it?" inquired the king."A paper - a letter - something white; look there, sire."The king stooped down immediately and picked up the letter, crumpling itin his hand, as he did so; and at the same moment the torches arrived,inundating the blackness of the scene with a flood of light as bight asday.