The Man in the Iron Mask by Alexandre Dumas (web based ebook reader .TXT) 📖

When they had entered the fort, and whilst the governor was making some preparations for the reception of his guests, “Come,” said Athos, “let us have a word of explanation whilst we are alone.”

“It is simply this,” replied the musketeer. “I have conducted hither a prisoner, who the king commands shall not be seen. You came here, he has thrown something to you through the lattice of his window; I was at dinner with the governor, I saw the object thrown, and I saw Raoul pick it up. It does not take long to understand this. I understood it, and I thought you in intelligence with my prisoner. And then—”

“And then—you commanded us to be shot.”

“Ma foi! I admit it; but, if I was the first to seize a musket, fortunately, I was the last to take aim at you.”

“If you had killed me, D’Artagnan, I should have had the good fortune to die for the royal house of France, and it would be an honor to die by your hand—you, its noblest and most loyal defender.”

“What the devil, Athos, do you mean by the royal house?” stammered D’Artagnan. “You don’t mean that you, a well-informed and sensible man, can place any faith in the nonsense written by an idiot?”

“I do believe in it.”

“With so much the more reason, my dear chevalier, from your having orders to kill all those who do believe in it,” said Raoul.

“That is because,” replied the captain of the musketeers—“because every calumny, however absurd it may be, has the almost certain chance of becoming popular.”

“No, D’Artagnan,” replied Athos, promptly; “but because the king is not willing that the secret of his family should transpire among the people, and cover with shame the executioners of the son of Louis XIII.”

“Do not talk in such a childish manner, Athos, or I shall begin to think you have lost your senses. Besides, explain to me how it is possible Louis XIII. should have a son in the Isle of Sainte-Marguerite.”

“A son whom you have brought hither masked, in a fishing-boat,” said Athos. “Why not?”

D’Artagnan was brought to a pause.

“Oh!” said he; “whence do you know that a fishing-boat—?”

“Brought you to Sainte-Marguerite’s with the carriage containing the prisoner—with a prisoner whom you styled monseigneur. Oh! I am acquainted with all that,” resumed the comte. D’Artagnan bit his mustache.

“If it were true,” said he, “that I had brought hither in a boat and with a carriage a masked prisoner, nothing proves that this prisoner must be a prince—a prince of the house of France.”

“Ask Aramis such riddles,” replied Athos, coolly.

“Aramis,” cried the musketeer, quite at a stand. “Have you seen Aramis?”

“After his discomfiture at Vaux, yes; I have seen Aramis, a fugitive, pursued, bewildered, ruined; and Aramis has told me enough to make me believe in the complaints this unfortunate young prince cut upon the bottom of the plate.”

D’Artagnan’s head sunk on his breast in some confusion. “This is the way,” said he, “in which God turns to nothing that which men call wisdom! A fine secret must that be of which twelve or fifteen persons hold the tattered fragments! Athos, cursed be the chance which has brought you face to face with me in this affair! for now—”

“Well,” said Athos, with his customary mild severity, “is your secret lost because I know it? Consult your memory, my friend. Have I not borne secrets heavier than this?”

“You have never borne one so dangerous,” replied D’Artagnan, in a tone of sadness. “I have something like a sinister idea that all who are concerned with this secret will die, and die unhappily.”

“The will of God be done!” said Athos, “but here is your governor.”

D’Artagnan and his friends immediately resumed their parts. The governor, suspicious and hard, behaved towards D’Artagnan with a politeness almost amounting to obsequiousness. With respect to the travelers, he contented himself with offering good cheer, and never taking his eye from them. Athos and Raoul observed that he often tried to embarrass them by sudden attacks, or to catch them off their guard; but neither the one nor the other gave him the least advantage. What D’Artagnan had said was probable, if the governor did not believe it to be quite true. They rose from the table to repose awhile.

“What is this man’s name? I don’t like the looks of him,” said Athos to D’Artagnan in Spanish.

“De Saint-Mars,” replied the captain.

“He is, then, I suppose, the prince’s jailer?”

“Eh! how can I tell? I may be kept at Sainte-Marguerite forever.”

“Oh! no, not you!”

“My friend, I am in the situation of a man who finds a treasure in the midst of a desert. He would like to carry it away, but he cannot; he would like to leave it, but he dares not. The king will not dare to recall me, for no one else would serve him as faithfully as I do; he regrets not having me near him, from being aware that no one would be of so much service near his person as myself. But it will happen as it may please God.”

“But,” observed Raoul, “your not being certain proves that your situation here is provisional, and you will return to Paris?”

“Ask these gentlemen,” interrupted the governor, “what was their purpose in coming to Saint-Marguerite?”

“They came from learning there was a convent of Benedictines at Sainte-Honnorat which is considered curious; and from being told there was excellent shooting in the island.”

“That is quite at their service, as well as yours,” replied Saint-Mars.

D’Artagnan politely thanked him.

“When will they depart?” added the governor.