List Of Contents | Contents of The Man in the Iron Mask, by Dumas, Pere
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Vannes, in order that M. Colbert might state with positive certainty that
I gave you time to burn your papers."

"My papers?"

"Of course; at least that is what I should have done in your place.  When
any one opens a door for me I always avail myself of it."

"Yes, yes, and I thank you, for I have availed myself of it."

"And you have done perfectly right.  Every man has his own peculiar
secrets with which others have nothing to do.  But let us return to
Aramis, monseigneur."

"Well, then, I tell you, you could not have called loud enough, or Aramis
would have heard you."

"However softly any one may call Aramis, monseigneur, Aramis always hears
when he has an interest in hearing.  I repeat what I said before - Aramis
was not in his own room, or Aramis had certain reasons for not
recognizing my voice, of which I am ignorant, and of which you may be
even ignorant yourself, notwithstanding your liege-man is His Greatness
the Lord Bishop of Vannes."

Fouquet drew a deep sigh, rose from his seat, took three or four turns in
his room, and finished by seating himself, with an expression of extreme
dejection, upon his magnificent bed with velvet hangings, and costliest
lace.  D'Artagnan looked at Fouquet with feelings of the deepest and
sincerest pity.

"I have seen a good many men arrested in my life," said the musketeer,
sadly; "I have seen both M. de Cinq-Mars and M. de Chalais arrested,
though I was very young then.  I have seen M. de Conde arrested with the
princes; I have seen M. de Retz arrested; I have seen M. Broussel
arrested.  Stay a moment, monseigneur, it is disagreeable to have to
say, but the very one of all those whom you most resemble at this moment
was that poor fellow Broussel.  You were very near doing as he did,
putting your dinner napkin in your portfolio, and wiping your mouth with
your papers.  _Mordioux!_  Monseigneur Fouquet, a man like you ought not
to be dejected in this manner.  Suppose your friends saw you?"

"Monsieur d'Artagnan," returned the surintendant, with a smile full of
gentleness, "you do not understand me; it is precisely because my friends
are not looking on, that I am as you see me now.  I do not live, exist
even, isolated from others; I am nothing when left to myself.  Understand
that throughout my whole life I have passed every moment of my time in
making friends, whom I hoped to render my stay and support.  In times of
prosperity, all these cheerful, happy voices - rendered so through and by
my means - formed in my honor a concert of praise and kindly actions.  In
the least disfavor, these humbler voices accompanied in harmonious
accents the murmur of my own heart.  Isolation I have never yet known.
Poverty (a phantom I have sometimes beheld, clad in rags, awaiting me at
the end of my journey through life) - poverty has been the specter with
which many of my own friends have trifled for years past, which they
poetize and caress, and which has attracted me towards them.  Poverty!  I
accept it, acknowledge it, receive it, as a disinherited sister; for
poverty is neither solitude, nor exile, nor imprisonment.  Is it likely I
shall ever be poor, with such friends as Pelisson, as La Fontaine, as
Moliere? with such a mistress as - Oh! if you knew how utterly lonely and
desolate I feel at this moment, and how you, who separate me from all I
love, seem to resemble the image of solitude, of annihilation - death

"But I have already told you, Monsieur Fouquet," replied D'Artagnan,
moved to the depths of his soul, "that you are woefully exaggerating.
The king likes you."

"No, no," said Fouquet, shaking his head.

"M. Colbert hates you."

"M. Colbert!  What does that matter to me?"

"He will ruin you."

"Ah!  I defy him to do that, for I am ruined already."

At this singular confession of the superintendent, D'Artagnan cast his
glance all round the room; and although he did not open his lips, Fouquet
understood him so thoroughly, that he added: "What can be done with such
wealth of substance as surrounds us, when a man can no longer cultivate
his taste for the magnificent?  Do you know what good the greater part of
the wealth and the possessions which we rich enjoy, confer upon us?
merely to disgust us, by their very splendor even, with everything which
does not equal it!  Vaux! you will say, and the wonders of Vaux!  What of
it?  What boot these wonders?  If I am ruined, how shall I fill with
water the urns which my Naiads bear in their arms, or force the air into
the lungs of my Tritons?  To be rich enough, Monsieur d'Artagnan, a man
must be too rich."

D'Artagnan shook his head.

"Oh!  I know very well what you think," replied Fouquet, quickly.  "If
Vaux were yours, you would sell it, and would purchase an estate in the
country; an estate which should have woods, orchards, and land attached,
so that the estate should be made to support its master.  With forty
millions you might - "

"Ten millions," interrupted D'Artagnan.

"Not a million, my dear captain.  No one in France is rich enough to give
two millions for Vaux, and to continue to maintain it as I have done; no
one could do it, no one would know how."

"Well," said D'Artagnan, "in any case, a million is not abject misery."

"It is not far from it, my dear monsieur.  But you do not understand me.
No; I will not sell my residence at Vaux; I will give it to you, if you
like;" and Fouquet accompanied these words with a movement of the
shoulders to which it would be impossible to do justice.

"Give it to the king; you will make a better bargain."

"The king does not require me to give it to him," said Fouquet; "he will
take it away from me with the most absolute ease and grace, if it pleases
him to do so; and that is the very reason I should prefer to see it
perish.  Do you know, Monsieur d'Artagnan, that if the king did not
happen to be under my roof, I would take this candle, go straight to the
dome, and set fire to a couple of huge chests of fusees and fireworks
which are in reserve there, and would reduce my palace to ashes."

"Bah!" said the musketeer, negligently.  "At all events, you would not be
able to burn the gardens, and that is the finest feature of the place."

"And yet," resumed Fouquet, thoughtfully, "what was I saying?  Great
heavens! burn Vaux! destroy my palace!  But Vaux is not mine; these
wonderful creations are, it is true, the property, as far as sense of
enjoyment goes, of the man who has paid for them; but as far as duration
is concerned, they belong to those who created them.  Vaux belongs to
Lebrun, to Lenotre, to Pelisson, to Levau, to La Fontaine, to Moliere;
Vaux belongs to posterity, in fact.  You see, Monsieur d'Artagnan, that
my very house has ceased to be my own."

"That is all well and good," said D'Artagnan; "the idea is agreeable
enough, and I recognize M. Fouquet himself in it.  That idea, indeed,
makes me forget that poor fellow Broussel altogether; and I now fail to
recognize in you the whining complaints of that old Frondeur.  If you
are ruined, monsieur, look at the affair manfully, for you too,
_mordioux!_ belong to posterity, and have no right to lessen yourself in
any way.  Stay a moment; look at me, I who seem to exercise in some
degree a kind of superiority over you, because I am arresting you; fate,
which distributes their different parts to the comedians of this world,
accorded me a less agreeable and less advantageous part to fill than
yours has been.  I am one of those who think that the parts which kings
and powerful nobles are called upon to act are infinitely of more worth
than the parts of beggars or lackeys.  It is far better on the stage - on
the stage, I mean, of another theater than the theater of this world - it
is far better to wear a fine coat and to talk a fine language, than to
walk the boards shod with a pair of old shoes, or to get one's backbone
gently polished by a hearty dressing with a stick.  In one word, you have
been a prodigal with money, you have ordered and been obeyed - have been
steeped to the lips in enjoyment; while I have dragged my tether after
me, have been commanded and have obeyed, and have drudged my life away.
Well, although I may seem of such trifling importance beside you,
monseigneur, I do declare to you, that the recollection of what I have
done serves me as a spur, and prevents me from bowing my old head too
soon.  I shall remain unto the very end a trooper; and when my turn
comes, I shall fall perfectly straight, all in a heap, still alive, after
having selected my place beforehand.  Do as I do, Monsieur Fouquet, you
will not find yourself the worse for it; a fall happens only once in a
lifetime to men like yourself, and the chief thing is, to take it
gracefully when the chance presents itself.  There is a Latin proverb -
the words have escaped me, but I remember the sense of it very well, for
I have thought over it more than once - which says, 'The end crowns the

Fouquet rose from his seat, passed his arm round D'Artagnan's neck, and
clasped him in a close embrace, whilst with the other hand he pressed his
hand.  "An excellent homily," he said, after a moment's pause.

"A soldier's, monseigneur."

"You have a regard for me, in telling me all that."


Fouquet resumed his pensive attitude once more, and then, a moment after,
he said: "Where can M. d'Herblay be?  I dare not ask you to send for him."

"You would not ask me, because I would not do it, Monsieur Fouquet.
People would learn it, and Aramis, who is not mixed up with the affair,
might possibly be compromised and included in your disgrace."

"I will wait here till daylight," said Fouquet.

"Yes; that is best."

"What shall we do when daylight comes?"

"I know nothing at all about it, monseigneur."

"Monsieur d'Artagnan, will you do me a favor?"

"Most willingly."

"You guard me, I remain; you are acting in the full discharge of your
duty, I suppose?"


"Very good, then; remain as close to me as my shadow if you like; and I
infinitely prefer such a shadow to any one else."

D'Artagnan bowed to the compliment.

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