The Man in the Iron Mask by Alexandre Dumas (ereader for android txt) 📖

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?”

“I thought you had forgotten that miserable episode?”

“I never forget anything, sister. And if my true friends, such as your brother Charles, are willing to second me—” The princess remained pensively silent.

“Listen to me; there is the empire of the seas to be shared,” said Louis XIV. “For this partition, which England submits to, could I not represent the second party as well as the Dutch?”

“We have Mademoiselle de Keroualle to treat that question,” replied Madame.

“Your second condition for going, if you please, sister?”

“The consent of Monsieur, my husband.”

“You shall have it.”

“Then consider me already gone, brother.”

On hearing these words, Louis XIV. turned round towards the corner of the room in which D’Artagnan, Colbert, and Aramis stood, and made an affirmative sign to his minister. Colbert then broke in on the conversation suddenly, and said to Aramis:

“Monsieur l’ambassadeur, shall we talk about business?”

D’Artagnan immediately withdrew, from politeness. He directed his steps towards the fireplace, within hearing of what the king was about to say to Monsieur, who, evidently uneasy, had gone to him. The face of the king was animated. Upon his brow was stamped a strength of will, the expression of which already met no further contradiction in France, and was soon to meet no more in Europe.

“Monsieur,” said the king to his brother, “I am not pleased with M. le Chevalier de Lorraine. You, who do him the honor to protect him, must advise him to travel for a few months.”

These words fell with the crush of an avalanche upon Monsieur, who adored his favorite, and concentrated all his affections in him.

“In what has the chevalier been inconsiderate enough to displease your majesty?” cried he, darting a furious look at Madame.

“I will tell you that when he is gone,” said the king, suavely. “And also when Madame, here, shall have crossed over into England.”

“Madame! in England!” murmured Monsieur, in amazement.

“In a week, brother,” continued the king, “whilst we will go whither I will shortly tell you.” And the king turned on his heel, smiling in his brother’s face, to sweeten, as it were, the bitter draught he had given him.

During this time Colbert was talking with the Duc d’Almeda.

“Monsieur,” said Colbert to Aramis, “this is the moment for us to come to an understanding. I have made your peace with the king, and I owed that clearly to a man of so much merit; but as you have often expressed friendship for me, an opportunity presents itself for giving me a proof of it. You are, besides, more a Frenchman than a Spaniard. Shall we secure—answer me frankly—the neutrality of Spain, if we undertake anything against the United Provinces?”

“Monsieur,” replied Aramis, “the interest of Spain is clear. To embroil Europe with the Provinces would doubtless be our policy, but the king of France is an ally of the United Provinces. You are not ignorant, besides, that it would infer a maritime war, and that France is in no state to undertake this with advantage.”

Colbert, turning round at this moment, saw D’Artagnan who was seeking some interlocutor, during this “aside” of the king and Monsieur. He called him, at the same time saying in a low voice to Aramis, “We may talk openly with D’Artagnan, I suppose?”

“Oh! certainly,” replied the ambassador.

“We were saying, M. d’Almeda and I,” said Colbert, “that a conflict with the United Provinces would mean a maritime war.”

“That’s evident enough,” replied the musketeer.

“And what do you think of it, Monsieur d’Artagnan?”

“I think that to carry on such a war successfully, you must have very large land forces.”

“What did you say?” said Colbert, thinking he had ill understood him.

“Why such a large land army?” said Aramis.

“Because the king will be beaten by sea if he has not the English with him, and that when beaten by sea, he will soon be invaded, either by the Dutch in his ports, or by the Spaniards by land.”

“And Spain neutral?” asked Aramis.

“Neutral as long as the king shall prove stronger,” rejoined D’Artagnan.

Colbert admired that sagacity which never touched a question without enlightening it thoroughly. Aramis smiled, as he had long known that in diplomacy D’Artagnan acknowledged no superior. Colbert, who, like all proud men, dwelt upon his fantasy with a certainty of success, resumed the subject, “Who told you, M. d’Artagnan, that the king had no navy?”

“Oh! I take no heed of these details,” replied the captain. “I am but an indifferent sailor. Like all nervous people, I hate the sea; and yet I have an idea that, with ships, France being a seaport with two hundred exits, we might have sailors.”

Colbert drew from his pocket a little oblong book divided into two columns. On the first were the names of vessels, on the other the figures recapitulating the number of cannon and men requisite to equip these ships. “I have had the same idea as you,” said he to D’Artagnan, “and I have had an account drawn up of the vessels we have altogether—thirty-five ships.”

“Thirty-five ships! impossible!” cried D’Artagnan.

“Something like two thousand pieces of cannon,” said Colbert. “That is what the king possesses at this moment. Of five and thirty vessels we can make three squadrons, but I must have five.”

“Five!” cried Aramis.

“They will be afloat before the end of the year, gentlemen; the king will have fifty ship of the line. We may venture on a contest with them, may we not?”

“To build vessels,” said D’Artagnan, “is difficult, but possible. As to arming them, how is that to be done? In France there are neither foundries nor military docks.”

“Bah!” replied Colbert, in a bantering tone, “I have planned all that this year and a half past, did you not know it? Do you know M. d’Imfreville?”

“D’Imfreville?” replied D’Artagnan; “no.”

“He is a man I have discovered; he has a specialty; he is a man of genius—he knows how to set men to work. It is he who has cast cannon and cut the woods of Bourgogne. And then, monsieur l’ambassadeur, you may not believe what I am going to tell you, but I have a still further idea.”

“Oh, monsieur!” said Aramis, civilly, “I always believe you.”

“Calculating upon the character of the Dutch, our allies, I said to myself, ‘They are merchants, they are friendly with the king; they will be happy to sell to the king what they fabricate for themselves; then the more we buy’—Ah! I must add this: I have Forant—do you know Forant, D’Artagnan?”

Colbert, in his warmth, forgot himself; he called the captain simply D’Artagnan, as the king did. But the captain only smiled at it.

“No,” replied he, “I do not know him.”

“That is another man I have discovered, with a genius for buying. This Forant has purchased for me 350,000 pounds of iron in balls, 200,000