DArtagnan and the Iron Mask or Two Years Later - 1

D'Artagnan and the Iron Mask
or two years later

Book 1

Fanfiction (a work based on another literary work, including the use of characters from that work).

An unknown manuscript by Alexandre Dumas, found by chance by the author of this book in an antique shop in Clermont-Ferrand and purchased for thirty-two thousand euros, together with all the rights to edit, copy and publish, from Master Jacques Perrin, a descendant of one of the heroes of this book.

Adapted translation: Vadim A. Zhmud (owner of the manuscript and publication rights).


All rights are protected by the Russian Federation copyright law.
© Copyright: Vadim Zhmud, 2022
http://proza.ru/avtor/vadimzhmud
Certificate of publication No. 222111001425
First published on the website http://proza.ru/2022/11/10/1425
Date of first publication: 10.11.2022 18:09
The author reserves the right to edit and publish new versions of this book.

Reproduction in whole or in part, or any other commercial use of this text without the consent of the copyright holder is punishable by law.
The author agrees to the distribution of this material on the Internet, provided that there is a mandatory link to the original site and to the author – in full in this form (and in no other way).
Readers are free (without restrictions) to copy and save this text solely for their personal use, including reading by their family members, without paying anyone for anything.
All other uses, including commercial use of any kind, must be made with the consent of the author and on his terms.
Annotation

The two books in the D'Artagnan and the Iron Mask series are fan fiction. For those who don't know the meaning of this word, I recommend looking it up in a dictionary. Since this word is spoken, everything else should be clear to the reader.
I warned you with the word "Fanfic", and the responsibility for your attitude to this concept in the future lies entirely with you, my dear reader. And for me, this book is a previously unknown manuscript by Alexandre Dumas, that's how I see it, and I'm not going to treat it differently, that's why I'm the copyright holder of all this disgrace.
Why don't the adventures of the famous four musketeers, d'Artagnan, Athos, Porthos and Aramis, end with the last page of the book "The Vicomte de Bragelonne, or Ten Years Later"? Because the author of a work of fiction is the master of his word, he can give it, then take it back, as he wishes. Those who are dear to us, as it turns out, did not die so easily, because the adventures are not over yet.
This novel offers a new continuation of the trilogy by Alexandre Dumas about the four musketeers, who for some reason are called the three musketeers. The action of the novel begins from the moment described in the twenty-second chapter of "The Vicomte de Bragelonne". Then, as if in a parallel universe, the plot deviates more and more from the widely known version described in this novel. Why? Because the author decided to rewrite the ending. That's what he is an author for. As we will see, he had two good reasons for this. One was the charming marquise, the other was his acquisition of the ancient manuscript "The Memoirs of Aramis". How could he not sit down at his desk and rewrite the ending?
Why didn't Dumas publish this new version of his novel? Problems with persistent publishers? Or authorial dissatisfaction? Or perhaps the same charming marquise is to blame? Whatever the case, the author did not burn his work.
And I accidentally found and revived it. The novel gives a different account of events, which outwardly somewhat resembles that given in the novel "Ten Years Later", but all the subsequent adventures, beginning with the twenty-ninth chapter of the third book of the original source, are radically different from the famous novel. Don't you think that Dumas somehow too hastily exterminated all his heroes? He began with Porthos, then Raoul, Athos, and finally the main character - d'Artagnan. As if the author was tired of them, and he hurried to deal with them as soon as possible? And did you not think that there was some secret behind these quick deaths? And did they really exist - these four quick and unexpected deaths?
Unlike the last volume of the third book of the novel, where Athos, Porthos and d'Artagnan die, the novel reveals the reasons why our heroes were saved and were forced to keep their salvation a secret. And, of course, the novel pays a lot of attention to the fate of the mysterious prisoner of the castle of Pignerol, known as the "Iron Mask". We will tell the secret of the Iron Mask in its entirety, without concealment, from the beginning and almost to the end.


Translator's Preface

While in Clermont-Ferrand, I don’t remember exactly what year, I think it was in 2012, in the early spring, as part of a delegation for the joint educational program “ Mechatronics and Automation,” I initially did not plan to visit second-hand bookstores. However, in this town, a significant part of which is made up of students, for some unknown reason there are a huge number of antique shops. You would think that all students want to do is buy old furniture, old paintings and shabby books. I don’t know why, but I also became addicted to visiting antique and second-hand bookstores. I did not need books in French, but this kind of morbid love for books, known to my family, invariably drew me there. I was simply curious to look at old books. Could I have guessed how this would end?
The more worn out the book, the more readers have read it. That's why it was the worn out books that caught my eye the most.
In second-hand bookstores in France, customers can take a stepladder and peer into the top shelves, inspecting the most secluded corners, if, of course, they are not afraid of dust. That's what I did. Looking at one of the most remote shelves, I was surprised to find, instead of a book, a huge folder on which was written " Deux ans plus tard par Alex Dumas."
The folder was so large that I had great difficulty in removing it from the top shelf. I was also afraid that the worn-out ties would break and the sheets would fall to the floor. It would be very difficult to collect them and put them back together, although, as I discovered later, all the sheets were numbered.
I don’t know what prompted me to make this crazy purchase. At first, I asked out of simple curiosity how much this miracle cost. I expected the price to be around a hundred euros. But the seller told me that the sale of the manuscript, according to the laws of when it was acquired and according to the owner’s will, would be equated to the sale of copyright, that is, the purchaser of this folder, according to the terms of sale, acquires all rights to use it. In fact, the authorship was being sold. Then I asked how much this manuscript cost, and received the answer that it was offered for forty thousand euros. This was outrageous, and only out of mischief, and not at all intending to buy the manuscript, I asked if it was possible to get a discount. I did not expect a positive answer to this joking question. But it turns out that the term “offered at cost” does not mean the final price at all, because this is an antique store, it can have quite flexible prices! Therefore, the seller quite easily agreed to reduce the price to thirty-two thousand euros. Like any professor at a regular Russian technical university, I, of course, had a similar amount on my bank card, which still allowed citizens of our great country to make purchases in European countries. So I didn’t think long and just asked if they accepted cashless payments. The seller informed me that it was even recommended to make transactions over five hundred euros by bank transfer. He immediately entered the transaction amount into the terminal and asked me to attach the card. It seemed impolite to me not to pay, so I swiped the card in front of the terminal, entered the code, and the manuscript became my property. I was even given a receipt and a certificate confirming my rights to use the manuscript at my own discretion. It turns out that the manuscript was not in one folder, but in a dozen folders! The last ten were titled differently, as far as I could tell, the name “ Aramis ” was mentioned there. I could hardly suppress my joy. But the manuscript had to be sent home by mail, since it did not fit into the suitcase. Luckily, the shop owner took care of this, so all I had to do was give my address and pay for the postage, half of which the kind bookseller covered.
When the manuscript arrived, I naturally put all twelve folders on the top shelf of my enormous bookcase and got busy with more pressing matters. But recently I had to bring some semblance of order to my library, and since these folders were the most unsightly part of the contents of my wall-sized bookcase, I was forced to make the difficult but necessary decision to part with the text, which I had no hope of reading, since I do not know French. You can part with unnecessary books using the red metal book-exchange cabinets, or so-called book-crossings. There are four of them in the Novosibirsk Akademgorodok. Handwritten materials, as well as unnecessary household items and even clothes, are also brought there. A true book lover will take a manuscript to the book exchange only in the most extreme cases, and such an extreme case is the persistence of family members.
But first, of course, I had to try to read what was written in it, otherwise my purchase would have to be called unreasonable. Unfortunately, I do not know French. I had to scan, recognize the text, and most often retype it manually, and then use an automatic translator. After that, I took the trouble to edit the text a little myself, since the translator does not always translate correctly. However, it was not easy to judge the correctness of the translation, I was guided by intuition and the rules of the Russian language, nothing more. The main difficulty was to convert the handwritten text into printed text, and it was the speed of this process that limited the pace of my work. Probably, there are programs for recognizing text in manuscripts, but the handwriting was terrible, I did not like the results of using the programs available to me, correcting errors was more difficult for me than typing myself, looking at the sheets of the manuscript, fixed in front of my eyes on a special stand. So, I was finally able to first retype the manuscript on the computer, and then read its translation. I admit that I did not understand some fragments, and some places were probably translated incorrectly, and I cannot vouch for the accuracy of the translation of names. But since I already have some writing experience, I decided that I could well afford to edit the text at my own discretion. This also further strengthens my copyright - the right to creatively rework the source material.
Since I can type faster than I can think, I decided to finish what I started, wrote the introduction, and here are the results of my long work. If someone didn't like it, I bear no responsibility for it, since all the shortcomings of this work are the result of the original source. But if someone liked it, then it is entirely my merit, since I retyped it, translated it, even with the help of a computer program, and decided to publish it. Everyone has the right to their own erroneous opinion. And I am no exception to this rule. Enough chatter, let's finally read! Enjoy reading! Or stop reading the very second you understand that you are not interested in it.


Preface by the author, Alexandre Dumas p;re

My readers, of course, remember how the novel "Ten Years Later" ends. No matter how much I love my heroes, we must remember that all people are mortal, so I tried to describe not only their life full of incredible adventures, but also their death, worthy of all respect, where I showed that until the very last minute of their lives, each of them remained the noblest nobleman, faithful to the duty of honor.
But incredible events happen not only in novels, but also in life.
Having visited one of the charming towns of Gascony, I met quite by chance a very sweet and charming girl, whose name I will beware of naming, since it may not please her current husband, whom I would not like to offend in any way. Let us call her the Marquise Dionne de Livry, although I admit in advance that this name is fictitious, and I ask my readers not to try to draw any parallels with real historical figures. However, the name Dionne suits her perfectly, since she really was a little goddess of about twelve years old.
Having learned my name, the charming marchioness expressed indescribable delight at meeting me, but after a few moments of indescribable joy, she suddenly frowned sharply and tried to portray an unusual anger, which suited her no less than the delight she had previously shown. I confess that I was completely enchanted by her, and even if I were forty years younger... However, this does not apply to the plot of my story. So, without having time to exchange a few words with the charming marchioness, I had already caused such contradictory feelings that I was surprised and intrigued.
“Allow me to kiss your hand, charming marchioness,” I said as politely as I could, trying to hide my smile and feigning seriousness with all my might, “and allow me also to introduce myself to you as a dramatic writer.
“Both hands, of course,” my little goddess answered without hesitation, but then added, “I would have kissed you on the cheek myself, if you weren’t so guilty!”
- Have mercy, what have I done wrong to you, my charming child! I don’t think I had the honor of being acquainted with you before? - I was surprised.
- You are guilty of a triple murder! Yes, yes, you killed wonderful people, Athos, Porthos and d'Artagnan, not to mention poor Raoul de Bragelonne, poor Mouston! You are simply a monster! - was the answer.
I swear by all that is holy, there was so much confidence in her answer that I almost believed her that I really was a sworn murderer of innocent people.
- Charming child! But these are only literary heroes! - I objected, but received an answer that hit the nail on the head, as they say.
- Even so, you still shouldn't have killed them in such a dishonest manner. Besides, you killed my faith in justice, and in addition, my faith in the truthfulness of your writing pen.
“Justice, alas, is not found on our land as often as we would like, and if it is not always found in my novels, this only testifies to their truthfulness,” I answered, not understanding why I had to justify myself to this little girl. “However, I do not understand why you doubt the truthfulness of my pen?”
“How can I believe you when everything you write turns out to be untrue?” my little reader was indignant.
“Probably not everything I wrote is untrue,” I continued to justify myself, “but some things in my novels were written not by hand, but by the heart, and the heart, my dear, cannot lie.
"If I had read your novels only once, I might perhaps have believed what is written there," the charming marchioness continued her attack. "But I have read each novel four times, and am now finishing reading it for the fifth time, and the further I read, the more indignant I am at the inaccuracies you have allowed."
“I never expected to meet in this charming town such a devoted admirer and such a ruthless critic of my works,” I continued in a half-joking tone, “but we still have some time before dinner, during which I am ready to listen to your accusations and present my justifications before you give a final verdict on me and my novels.
“If you please,” the little girl answered readily, from which I concluded that this was exactly the turn of events she had been seeking.
- So, I'm listening.
“Let’s start with the minor sins,” began the Marquise de Livry.
“I see that you are an experienced confessor,” I tried to joke, but the conversation became more and more serious.
- Tell me, why, upon returning from England, does Athos give the Queen of England an order and an engagement ring?
I left him on the scaffold, my friend…
- At the beginning of the novel, the queen sent her husband an order and a cross studded with diamonds through Lord Winter. The king returned these same relics to Aramis while standing on the scaffold. He returned the order, then took a small cross studded with diamonds from his neck and said that Aramis should take this cross from his hands after the execution took place. How could a golden cross turn into a wedding ring?
- Did I really make such a mistake? - I was surprised. - At the beginning of working on the novel, I thought that Athos and Aramis would bring the queen an order and a ring, then, when writing the execution scene, I thought that it would be indecent and difficult for a priest to take a ring off the finger of the executed king, while it would be quite possible and even appropriate for a priest to pick up a cross that fell from the hand of the executed king.
- So you were making this up? You didn't know for sure what exactly Athos and Aramis brought to the queen?! - the little marquise exclaimed indignantly.
There was so much feeling in her indignation that I, I confess, did not dare to confirm to her the simple truth that the greater part of the novel is precisely the author’s invention, and the historical events in it are just as many as are necessary only to have some kind of background for depicting the entire colorful picture of the adventures of the novel’s main characters. I confess this sin to you, my dear readers, I did not find the strength in myself to admit that all my novels, which my reader has reread almost five times, were merely my fantasy. After all, I am not a historian, I am a dramatic writer, all the adventures that happen to my characters first happened in my head and in my heart, then on paper, after which, I dare to hope, in the hearts and thoughts of my readers. So, I lied. I lied shamelessly and vilely. I said:
"I must have expressed myself incorrectly. I first believed from one source that Aramis had returned the queen's engagement ring, then I doubted that he could have had the opportunity to take it back, after which I made further inquiries and learned for certain that it was the diamond-studded cross that was returned. I have corrected it where necessary, but, as it now appears, I forgot to correct this error in one of the last chapters of the novel.
“I have noticed that you write the last chapters of your novels in a hurry,” my little marchioness replied, which both upset and surprised me.
“How did you notice this, if I may ask?” I asked half-jokingly.
- At the beginning and in the middle of your novels you outline many plot lines that promise the reader very interesting events. The reader expects these lines to develop, but you do not give answers to all the questions you pose, you break off the novels so abruptly, as if some more important matter were tearing you away from writing this novel. Each ending of a novel is a great disappointment for the readers, - my little admirer said categorically.
- Is that really so?
– Take the novel “Prediction”. In it, the main characters, historical figures, meet in a tavern, where fate brings them together with a fortune teller. This fortune teller predicts that half of them will be killed, and half of them will become murderers. All these characters are called by name. Many of the names belong to famous people, from whose history one can conclude that the fortune teller’s prediction came true in full. But why don’t you reveal the events that took place, confirming the correctness of the prediction? I thought that you were planning to write the next novel, depicting these events that the fortune teller predicted, but nothing of the sort! You abandoned this topic and don’t write anything about it.
“I’m not dead yet, to my joy and, I hope, to yours,” I objected. “Perhaps I’ll write a sequel someday.”
- Ever? - I heard contempt and reproach in my marchioness's voice. - Is it possible to abandon such a fruitful topic without finishing what was started?
- You have struck me, but this is only one of my many novels.
- And the novel "Forty-five"?
- What's wrong with it? It didn't have any predictions, as far as I remember.
- First "Queen Margot", then "Countess de Monsoreau ", then "Forty-Five", who are these novels about?
– Although this is a trilogy, my dear, the heroes in them are different.
– There is only one main character in these novels – King Henry of Navarre, who, as is well known, later became King Henry IV of France, laying the foundation for the Bourbon dynasty on the French throne!
“Why do you consider him the main character, my dear?” I asked, surprised.
- Because he is the main character! Your trilogy lacks a denouement, if you want, you should write a novel "Three Henrys", in which you describe how Henry of Navarre became Henry IV of France, despite the attempts of Henry de Guise, inheriting the throne from Henry III.
- Everyone knows that! Besides, I once wrote a short play with that title.
- Where is this play, who knows about it, where can I buy a book with that title by you? - the little accuser seemed to be getting more and more excited.
- Okay, I give in, I admit that I haven’t completed all the plot lines of this trilogy, but that’s where the complaints end, I hope? - I tried to joke.
“They’re just beginning,” my little tormentor said coldly, in the tone of a prosecutor.
- Then let's return to my beloved musketeers. After all, these novels were written to the very end, you won't argue with that? - It seemed to me that I had finally stood on the solid ground of common sense and solid argumentation.
“Your sloppiness increases towards the end of each novel,” the marchioness objected, as if cutting it off.
- You mean replacing the cross with a wedding ring, of course? - I tried to joke. - We've already sorted that out, haven't we?
- If only! - the Marquise answered with disdain. - Have you tried rereading your novels?
“I almost never do that, except when I need to refresh my memory on certain plot lines,” I admitted honestly.
“I’ll bring you the book ‘Twenty Years Later’ now,” with these words the little marquise went off to her room, but soon returned with a beautiful edition of the said book, in which lay many bookmarks.
Opening the book to one of the pages, she told me to read from the place where her little finger pointed.
I read the passage at the end of the novel where Aramis and Athos are worried about the absence of d'Artagnan and Porthos:
“If you remember, he expected to be here on the fifth.
- And today is the ninth. The deadline expires this evening."
This was the end of the thirty-fifth chapter of the second part.
“Now read here what Athos and Aramis talked about the next day,” and she turned three or four pages and again poked her finger at the text.
To my shame, I read the following text:
"Today is the eighth, the deadline expires tonight. If we don't hear from them tonight, we'll set out tomorrow."
This was the next chapter of the story, under the general title "Twenty Years Later."
“My dear, it’s just a simple typo,” I tried to joke.
- I idolized you, I trusted you more than my father and mother, and you so frivolously allow such confusion in dates? - the charming marchioness continued to be indignant. - The day after the ninth is the eighth, instead of the tenth, and the deadline, which was named as the ninth, suddenly turned into the eighth? You call this a small typo? Do you know that I kept a diary of events, and because of such typos, something always didn’t add up? And the age of the heroes in each novel, if you calculate it taking into account the said difference between the end of the last events of the previous book of the trilogy and the beginning of the events of the next book, as well as taking into account the duration of the events of the book itself, it all doesn’t add up at all!
- Do you keep a diary? - I was surprised. - I thought that only those events that happen to the author of the diary are written in a diary.
“But don’t these events happen to the reader of the novel?” was the answer.
I capitulated. I was saved only by the fact that it was time for dinner, to which I had been solemnly invited, which allowed me to finish our conversation, not entirely pleasant for me, with a very pleasant interlocutor, with a simple guilty smile. It seems to me that Grimaud would have approved of this last silent phrase of mine.

After an incredibly delicious dinner, which, contrary to my usual custom, I will not describe so as not to tire the reader, the conversation with the little marchioness continued in a more friendly manner. And yet she did not abandon her offensive tactics, which I could hardly resist.
“You seem to have called me a cruel murderer of my heroes?” I said in a rather good-natured tone, hoping for a condescending answer, since I myself was in that condescendingly good-natured mood that is created in us by the harmony of magnificent hot dishes and cold desserts, offered to you in due order.
“And they hid the fate of their children from us!” the Marquise immediately responded.
- Have mercy, I have told everything that should be said about the Vicomte de Bragelonne, I have followed his fate until his glorious death, and as far as I know, my musketeers had no other children.
“They all had children, you know that very well!” the Marquise objected categorically.
- Oh, really? - I was genuinely surprised.
“But you yourself reported it!” was the answer.
“Even Aramis, the abbot, the servant of God?” I tried to joke.
“Even Aramis, the abbot, and above all he,” answered the marchioness without hesitation. “You yourself write about it!”
- Have mercy, where?
- You have forgotten that the son of the Duchess de Longueville, that is, excuse me, Anne Genevi;ve de Bourbon-Cond;, named Charles-Paris, as is well known, was not born of his legitimate husband, Henry II de Longueville, but of Fran;ois VI de La Rochefoucauld, Prince de Marsillac. If we take into account that at the beginning of the novel Twenty Years Later, Aramis, Abbe d'Herblay, is shown as the lover of this charming Duchess, just at the time when Charles-Paris was to be conceived, then according to your version it turns out that it is Aramis who is the true father of Charles-Paris. And, apparently, in honor of his wonderful friend Charles d'Artagnan, the first name was given to this child?
“That doesn’t prove that Aramis is the father of the Duchess de Longueville’s child,” I said, surprised at the twelve-year-old girl’s knowledge of such delicate and subtle matters.
- But in four other places in your novel it is noted that Aramis is concerned about the fate of this boy! - the Marquise did not calm down. - First he speaks about this in the form of demands to Mazarin, insisting that the queen be the godmother of this child, then d'Artagnan conveys this demand to Queen Anne, then you write about the promise to fulfill this demand among the achievements of the negotiators from the Fronde, and finally, in the penultimate chapter, Aramis persuades the Duchess de Longueville to reconcile herself to the treaty, pointing out that the child's future will be ensured by the fact that his godson will be the king himself.
- My dear Marquise! You know my heroes better than I do, and you seem to love them no less than I do! - I cried in a state of complete rapture. - Allow me, then, before I take my manuscripts to the publisher, to offer them to you for reading, so that you may point out to me those unpardonable errors against the truth which you so easily find, and which perhaps no other reader has ever found, just as I have not found them myself?
“I wanted to offer you the same thing, but I didn’t dare,” was the answer of my charming little girl.
“Perhaps, to begin with, you could explain to me your idea that all the musketeers had children?” I asked.
- Ah, the children of the musketeers are of no interest to me at all, - the Marquise waved her hand. - Your Raoul de Bragelonne is not a man, but a doll, a scheme, an empty shell, I would not love such a person.
“Excuse me, what did you dislike about him?” I asked indignantly.
- Naive, childish, melancholy, - continued the marchioness. - This is your failure, you shouldn't have named the novel after him. And as always, you messed up the numbers again.
- Great God, where? - I was surprised.
- Right here! - and the Marquise opened the book again to one of the many bookmarks. - Raoul, who was fifteen years old, fell in love with a seven-year-old girl.
“That happens, I suppose!” I objected.
“At fifteen, a young man can fall in love with a woman older than himself, or with a woman of the same age, or with a girl somewhat younger than himself, but not with a seven-year-old girl!” my marchioness categorically cut her off.
"Some girls can be really cute at seven!" I replied.
"Let's read it," and she began to read aloud. "It's here: 'Already three or four years ago, when he himself was a child, he began to admire this little goddess, he began to please her, and now he will reach the point of adoration if he stays here.' This is Athos speaking."
“What’s strange about that?” I asked in surprise.
- Three or four years ago, Raoul was eleven or twelve years old, and Louise must have been three or four. Where have you seen an eleven-year-old fall in love with a three-year-old girl? Or let it be a twelve-year-old who is in love with a four-year-old, it does not change the situation. Children with such an age difference do not spend time together. The child has not learned to speak for so long, a young man cannot have carnal feelings for such a child! It is also too early to admire the soul of this little one.
“Who knows?” I tried to object, but there was too much uncertainty and doubt in my words.
“That’s why I say he’s childish, naive, melancholic,” the Marquise said crisply. “To carry through his whole life a childish delight in a girl, which began with the adoration of a three-year-old child and ended with taking his own life, while his father should have, it would seem, based on personal experience, instilled in him a restrained feeling towards women, and in any case, put a stop to such thoughtless worship, the deification of a child of the opposite sex, who has not yet proven in any way that he deserves not only love, but at least simply more attention than other representatives of that sex.”
“I surrender! I surrender without a fight, immediately and finally,” was all your humble servant could answer.
“Speaking of surrendering without a fight,” continued my little tormentor. “You haven’t reread chapter thirty-six of this volume, of course?” and she again pointed to the remarkable edition of the book “Twenty Years Later.”
“What’s wrong with this chapter?” I asked, already somewhat frightened.
“It describes a strange war,” replied the Marquise. “People from the opposing camps converse freely among themselves, exchanging plans for battle, then a deadly fight begins, in which Athos and Aramis join without any need. Athos rides in the thick of the battle, leading the attack, but his musket is in its holster, and his sword in its scabbard. Knowing that his son, the Vicomte de Bragelonne, is fighting for the enemy, Athos for some reason leads the attack on this enemy, and Aramis even kills his compatriots. And why on earth does a squadron of cavalry obey these two noblemen who are not in the service, who were not introduced to the cavalrymen, who were not given the orders to lead this squadron? Why do they get involved in a civil war that they themselves have already defined as a senseless bloodbath?” Aramis, as usual, was chopping left and right like a drunk, while Athos rode calmly next to him, and no one tried to kill him. And what did Aramis chop with? A sword? Or a sabre, or a Turkish yataghan? A sword? He chopped, and no one chopped them. Is this how it happens in war? Were they fighting in a real battle, or were they riding through a field of sunflowers, which you can chop or not chop at your discretion? Athos was calm, cold, but at the same time he also led a squadron during the bloodiest battle, and did not receive any wounds? None of his enemies even tried to kill him out of respect for his Order of the Holy Spirit, or what? How is this possible? Raoul, who knew that his father might be among the adversaries, although he considered him only a guardian at the time, but whom, according to you, he loved so much that he worshipped, nevertheless fights against him, risking the death of both him and his friend Aramis? This, by the way, hardly ever happens. Why did none of them foresee such a possibility? As soon as these three met, they calmly left the battlefield, although it was not over? Is this possible? Do you know that there are only three ways to leave a battlefield – as a victor, as a deserter, or as a result of death or such a serious wound that it will not allow one to remain in the ranks?
“I admitted that I was giving up, my dear, because I see that even in combat you understand much better than me!” I tried to answer, feigning a half-joking tone, although, I admit, at that moment I was in no mood for jokes.
“Very well,” the little tormentor answered good-naturedly. “This time I will kiss you on the cheek, as I promised.”
I immediately offered my cheek, she kept her promise, and peace was established between us once and for all. I was afraid to ask about the children of Porthos and d'Artagnan, fearing that she would bring forward such arguments that we would quarrel again.
I spoke of complete peace, but I forgot to mention two more small disagreements that arose between us.
The first of these differences, I hope, was settled without much injury to my pride. It was that d'Artagnan, in the opinion of the little Marquise, had violated the rules of friendship before going to the Queen to sign the agreements he had made with Mazarin. In Chapter XLVIII I have taken the liberty of describing d'Artagnan's doubts about the fidelity of his friends, and of the trick he employed to ensure that none of them should on any account let Mazarin go. To this end d'Artagnan conversed with each of his friends. Each time he flattered his interlocutor by calling him the most reliable of the three, and made him doubt the reliability of the other two. What a genius for discord and conspiracy! In the opinion of the Marquise it was baseness, treachery, a dishonest act, aimed at disuniting the four. My dear tormentor called d'Artagnan's actions vile and him a scoundrel.
“My dear Marquise, I fully agree with you, recognizing that such cunning does not do honor to my hero, but take into account also that all my heroes are ordinary people with their own merits and demerits, and if I wrote their characters only in heroic tones, you would be the first to accuse me of unreliability of presentation.
“So be it,” the Marquise answered, offended. “And yet he betrayed friendship, and you betrayed him by describing him as such an intriguer, acting against his friends.”
- But he didn't act against his friends at all, he was actually looking after their interests! - I tried to weakly object. - After all, in the end they only benefited from not releasing Mazarin!
"They would not have done it without such cunning!" exclaimed my marchioness, with all the ardor and fervor of her tender age. "Have you forgotten their motto? One for all and all for one!"
- No, my dear, how could I forget the motto that I myself... Which I learned with such interest from historical documents, of course. I love this motto as if I had come up with it myself.
- They all violated this motto.
- When?
- I already told you about d'Artagnan.
- It's a small thing.
- There are other facts. Let's start with Aramis. He poisoned the general of the Jesuit order. How is he better than Mordaunt, who killed the executioner of Lille? But we are talking about the betrayal of friendship. Your Aramis deceived Porthos, drawing him into the alien struggle for power of Fouquet against the power of the king. As a result of his vile intrigues, aimed at achieving sole power, the most noble and honest of the four, the mighty Porthos, perished.
“He died not as a result of intrigue, but as a result of a combination of circumstances.
– If he had remained in one of his three estates, would he have died?
- I admit, no.
- And for what purpose did he get involved in this unequal fight that destroyed him?
- He wanted to become a duke, have you forgotten?
- And who awakened these ambitious plans in him? Wasn't it Aramis? And for what purpose? Wasn't it in order to acquire a reliable assistant, possessing strength, determination, and courage, and who had boundless confidence in his comrade, who, of course, did not deserve such confidence?
“Very well, very well, my dear Marquise, I admit that Aramis was not a man of the highest moral principles, but how else could he have reached such a height as becoming a general of the Order of the Jesuits?”
- That's right, he was a Jesuit, and that says it all! - said the Marquise, as if cutting her off. - He always had Jesuit habits, by the end of the trilogy they had completely taken over his character, he even hated his former lover, the Duchess de Chevreuse, who, by the way, helped them a lot in the first two novels, not to mention the fact that she was the mother of Raoul, Vicomte de Bragelonne!
- Let's leave Aramis. What do you, dear Marquise, have against Athos?
– You constantly call him glorious Athos, noble Athos, the ideal of valor and honor...
– I hope you will not dispute the validity of these epithets?
- This glorious and valiant and noble Athos dealt with his young wife only because he discovered a brand on her shoulder, without even understanding the reasons for this.
“He did his research, I assure you, I just didn’t describe his research in my novel,” I lied.
- That's not true, you wrote that he acted immediately, - the Marquise objected. - But even if it were as you claim! After all, he allowed the massacre of a defenseless woman, where five men and one executioner, not counting the servants, were confronted only by her. This is cruel and vile!
“You forget the crimes she committed,” I reminded her.
- But Athos always said, both before and after this incident, that everything was God's will! She acted this way with God's permission, therefore, only God would have the right to punish her. A soldier can fight and kill on the orders of the king or his commander. But the massacre of a woman does not allow us to speak of him as a saint and noble Athos. A saint must forgive regardless of whether the guilty party deserves forgiveness or not. Otherwise, he is not a saint!
- I don't agree with that, I'll give you the example of Saint George, who dealt with the dragon, - I tried to justify myself. - Milady was a dragon in the form of a woman.
- I won't argue, although I don't agree with you. But why didn't he take my lady's son into his care, why didn't he raise him to be a noble knight?
- This son had a closer relative, his uncle!
- Who simply threw him out into the street, depriving him of his name and inheritance!
“I assure you, my dear, that Athos has nothing to do with it, and as for Lord Winter, he paid for his deeds, his nephew took revenge on him very cruelly, because he killed him.
- And how did your noble Athos treat his son and his son's mother?
- What don’t you like about his actions, my dear?
- He neglected Raoul's education. He raised him to be a soldier, apparently, so that he would be killed in one of the battles, didn't he? He didn't take the trouble to prepare him for life in the court, he didn't raise him to be a simple nobleman who could live comfortably on the wonderful inheritance left to him by his father, who was afraid to call himself a father, and for this reason called himself a guardian. He didn't teach him the correct attitude towards women, he didn't explain to him the error of his youthful infatuation, he didn't open his eyes to the fact that this mademoiselle did not deserve love at all. He neglected Raoul, all he could do was to hug him tenderly and strictly control his fate.
– Do you require a soldier to be a brilliant educator?
- I demand that a father be a father. If he himself could not raise his son properly, he should have invited educators. If a child grows up in the wilderness, where the only female creature is a four-year-old girl with whom he quickly fell in love, these feelings should have been recognized and corrected in a timely manner.
- I see that I was lied to when I said that you were twelve years old, my dear Marquise. In your mind, you are forty years old, I give up!
“It’s just that I’ve read more than just your books, Monsieur Dumas.”
- Forgive me, I did not take that into account. I hope that you will not be so harsh with my dear Porthos?
- You described him as stupid, naive, a glutton and a lover of dubious pleasures, such as ruining his neighbors' crops and being unjustifiably cocky.
– Such was the century and such were the heroes of this century, alas!
- He was greedy for feminine charms, as you remember from the first novel, and he had his eye on Planchet's wife in the third novel. At the same time, having become a widower, he did not even think of marrying, he did not leave any heirs, despite his enormous fortune and baronial title. What were all these aspirations for, this thirst for wealth and nobility? Only to satisfy his own vanity?
- Will you really not forgive him for this?
- Of course I will forgive! I will even forgive d'Artagnan, although he...
- Although he intrigued a little so that his three friends would not let Mazarin go?
- Oh, come on! These are trifles!
- What else will you blame him for?
- If Aramis destroyed Porthos, then d'Artagnan destroyed Raoul and Athos.
- How is this possible, my dear?
- After all, it was he who brought the King closer to Mademoiselle de La Valli;re! If it had not been for that, she would have married Raoul, and everything would have ended well! Why did he interfere? Why did he take the King to the convent where La Valli;re was hiding? If Louise had taken refuge in the convent, she might have lived to see Raoul! Even if she had forever renounced social life, I think Raoul would not have considered himself so humiliated and so unhappy as to seek death, since he would only have been able to adore her even more and would not have been jealous of her towards God. I maintain that d'Artagnan is the culprit of Raoul's misfortune and death, and since it led to the death of Athos, he is also the culprit of Athos's downfall.
“But, my dear,” I stammered, not yet imagining what exactly I would be able to object to this stream of accusations.
“I know!” exclaimed the Marquise.
“What exactly do you know?” I asked in surprise.
- I know everything! And that's great! I understand that my accusations are falling apart for the reason that you don't want to tell me, but which I have already guessed myself.
“Because…?” I paused hesitantly, wondering what I should say.
“Just admit that Porthos, Athos and d’Artagnan did not die at all,” said the Marquise.
“Oh, if so…” I muttered.
- Yes, yes! I guessed! I can see in your eyes that I guessed! - my little tormentor cried out, after which she threw herself on my neck and imprinted another kiss on my cheek.
I confess to you, my dear readers, I was cornered, I felt myself in a trap from which I saw no way out. The kiss of my tormentor was the final point in this battle. I capitulated finally, and this time not as a joke, but as seriously as it could be with me.
“You have guessed my intention, my dear, I surrender!” was all I could answer to this brilliant attack.
“Bring me the manuscript as soon as possible,” the Marquise demanded. “I must check that you haven’t mixed up the dates in it, as has happened before.”
– But the thing is, she’s not yet… She’s not with me. She’s waiting for me in my house, and she’s not finished.
- What? You are travelling through France without taking with you a manuscript you have not finished working on? - It seemed that the Marquise did not believe me.
“I mistakenly put it in the wrong bag, and, alas, it remained waiting for me in my house.
- But it can be requested by mail, can't it?
– The mail is so unreliable! I'm afraid it might get lost on the way.
- You are right! This priceless manuscript must not be lost. As soon as you return home, be sure to begin finishing this novel. We will not trust the only copy of your immortal creation, which all readers are so eagerly awaiting, to the post office. It is better to have errors in the dates than to risk it getting lost in the mail. As soon as you finish it, take it to the publisher, but I hope to receive the first copy of this book from you as soon as possible.
- Everything will be just as you say, my dear! - I answered and, having snatched a kiss from the forehead of this lovely flower with such sharp thorns, I hastened to end my visit, fearing not so much for my reputation as for my shattered nerves and my imagination. The last thing I needed at my age was to fall in love with this little scoundrel. I am not your Monsieur Raoul. These jokes will not work on me.
To remind myself that I was dealing with just a little girl, I tried to joke and said with a gentle smile:
“I assumed that my book, The Tales of Aramis, would be more suitable for the charming marquise to read…”
In response, the little impudent marchioness burst into a whole tirade:
– The Tales of Aramis! You wrote that the Musketeer-Abb; Aramis told these tales to his son, that is, the son of the Duchess de Longueville, and you and I know who the father of this young man was! So then explain to me, my dear writer, why does Aramis mention the books about Robinson Crusoe and about Gulliver? I mean the tale of Pierre and his goose. If I am not mistaken, the book about Robinson Crusoe was first published in 1716, the book about Gulliver was first published in 1726, and its translation into French appeared a year later, in 1727. D'Artagnan mentions Aramis's age in the novel Twenty Years Later during his first meeting, in chapter ten. He says that he himself is forty years old, and Aramis is two or three years older than him. This means that Aramis was forty-two, in the novel "Ten Years Later" he should be older than 53-54 years old, and the novel begins before Mazarin died, who died in 1661. This means that Aramis was born no later than approximately 1608. In the year that Gulliver's Travels was published in French, Aramis should have been 118 years old! After all, Pierre Desfontaines translated the book into French only in 1727! And Pierre from the fairy tale talks about these books as if they were well known to him, which cannot bore him. This means that Gulliver had already been translated into French quite a long time ago, since Pierre did not know English, he was uneducated. Aramis tells the fairy tale as if it were about the distant past! To whom? To his little son? And this son should have been born in 1652. So Aramis, who is at least 118 years old, tells a fairy tale to his son, who is, excuse me, 67 years old? My dear writer, my idol Alexandre Dumas, what do you think about all this?
“Maybe I’m not very good at math,” I said, trying to ease the tension in our dialogue.
“As for the Tales of Aramis, you have proved this to all your readers magnificently!” was the reply of my little marchioness.
After that she ran to her room, from where she came running just as quickly with the book "The Tales of Aramis" in her delicate little hands. Almost instantly she opened the book to the right page and said:
– The little mermaid first swam to the surface of the sea on her fifteenth birthday. That day, she met a ship where the prince’s birthday was being celebrated. We read: “He had just turned sixteen, and it was his birthday that was being celebrated on board the yacht.” So, the prince was exactly one year older than the little mermaid, and they had the same birthday. – Turning over a few pages, she read on: “So the days went by, and the sea princess reached her eighteenth birthday. The prince turned twenty-five.” In the three years that the little mermaid had grown older, the prince had grown nine years older! He was only one year older than her, and now he was seven years older than her! You have big problems with mathematics, Mr. Writer!
I raised my eyebrows high, stretched my mouth from ear to ear in a stupid smile, shrugged my shoulders and spread my hands. In Grimaud's language, this meant: "I hope, dear Marquise, you understand that I have nothing to say except that I hope for your indulgence."

* * *

So, my dear readers, you know everything. I could not be found a liar in the eyes of this wicked and charming child, so on returning home I set about finishing the work, which at the time of its discussion had not even been started.
I have only sketched out an outline of the fourth novel and the title "Two Years Later".
But my publishers did not give me time to start this novel, since they demanded the speedy completion of the already promised novels.
I think that if I had revealed to them the plan for my new novel, they would have given me plenty of time and unlimited credit, but I wanted to keep secret the work on this unexpected sequel - a continuation of a book that, by all rights, should be perceived as finished.
So, for a long time I had only a plan, and a great hope that I would find the time and strength to write my new novel according to this plan, perhaps the best one. But one day the time came when I accidentally saw this plan among the papers, and since this time I was relatively free, I decided to return to this idea.
And then something happened that could not possibly have happened. It could not have been a simple coincidence. There must be Fate in the world, or God's providence, because otherwise I cannot explain what happened.
This second reason for my efforts to correct the end of the novel "The Vicomte de Bragelonne", a reason mystical and mysterious, was the manuscript of "The Memoirs of Aramis" that fell into my hands. A truly fantastic story is connected with this acquisition. I received it by mail. The sender wished to remain anonymous. The parcel contained ten folders, the very last one was twice as thin as the others.
From the postmarks on the package I could tell that the manuscript had been sent from the Vatican! This was beyond my comprehension. Moreover, the manuscript was written in many languages, although the handwriting was clearly the handwriting of one person. He wrote in a small, neat calligraphic font, easily switching from French to Spanish, from Spanish to Italian, from Italian to Latin, then back to French, and so on in any combination. The text contained runic signs, and Greek letters, and God knows what other symbols, signs, and drawings. Everything that I could not understand I ignored, since even translating from all the languages of the Latin group was not an easy task. I numbered all the sheets and gave them to individual translators for translation, keeping a kind of catalog of which of the translators I gave which sheets. Thus, gradually, step by step, I came into possession of a translation of this manuscript into ordinary French. Only then could I fully enjoy this reading and realize what a priceless historical treasure had fallen into my hands.
Should I not have considered this manuscript a practical joke? Not at all! In order to have played such a serious trick on me, the author of this manuscript would have had to have spent too much time collecting information, writing and translating individual fragments into different languages. And then, as I have already said, all the sheets were written in the same handwriting, although both the paper and the ink changed from time to time. The simplest thing would be to assume that these are genuine memoirs written by one person. But whether this person was the same Aramis whom I brought out in my trilogy, or whether this was a simple forgery of his memoirs, I will not undertake to solve this problem. When we do not know the correct answer to a difficult question, we choose the one that we like best. By this criterion, I claim that I have become the owner of the genuine manuscript of Aramis's memoirs.
But I didn't just rewrite the manuscript in order to write my novel. There were some things I simply didn't like about it, and I reject much of what I came across. Some issues were cast in a light that was very unfavorable to me as a writer. I reject that, too. But I squeezed out of the manuscript everything that an experienced and somewhat talented storyteller like me could squeeze out of it.
This is how this work appeared, which I now offer to my benevolent readers and ask you not to judge me as harshly as the little marquise has already done.
My new novel, which I have called "D'Artagnan and the Iron Mask, or Two Years Later." I now offer it to the gracious attention of my indulgent readers.


D'Artagnan and the Iron Mask

The third book of "The Vicomte de Bragelonne", as you remember, tells how Aramis planned to replace King Louis XIV with his twin brother Philippe, who is hidden from everyone in the Bastille and forced to wear an iron mask every time the jailers visit him to take food or clean his cell. Aramis learned this secret from his good friend, the Duchess de Chevreuse. This same secret helped Aramis become the general of the Jesuit Order, which gave him power over all initiates into the mysteries of the Order. Aramis hatched the plan to replace the King not only to protect his friend and patron, the superintendent of finances Nicolas Fouquet, whose crush the tireless minister of the King, Jean-Baptiste Colbert, set himself the goal of crushing, but to a greater extent in order to become the de facto shadow head of France, hatching, among other things, plans to take the throne of the Pope. For these purposes, Aramis attracted the naive Porthos, convincing him that they were carrying out a secret mission from the King to neutralize the impostor, as a result of which the King promised in gratitude to elevate Porthos to the rank of Duke.
Meanwhile, the young King Louis XIV fell in love with the poor noblewoman Louise de La Valli;re, who was a maid of honor to his brother's wife, Princess Henrietta. His love began with his courting her to divert attention from his true flirtation with Princess Henrietta herself, but, delighted by Louise's sincerity and purity, and having accidentally overheard her absentee confessions of love for him, which were intended only for the ears of her friends, the King completely neglected his infatuation with his sister-in-law and all his thoughts were focused on Louise. With the help of his friend and courtier de Saint- Aignan, the King, using various tricks, received from Louise the highest proof of her love, after which their meetings became regular and far from platonic. Louise's former fianc;, Raoul de Bragelonne, learned of this and summoned de Saint- Aignan to a duel, but the cowardly courtier did not show up for it, saying that at that time he was with the King and was carrying out his orders. Athos, the father of the insulted young man, came to the King and expressed all his dissatisfaction to him, reproaching him for the fact that the King should be a true father to his most faithful subjects, and therefore someone else's love should remain inviolable. At the end of the conversation, Athos broke his sword as a sign that he refused to serve the King. The angry Louis ordered the arrest of Athos, entrusting this to his best friend d'Artagnan, who was in the king's service as captain of the king's musketeers.
In the twenty-second chapter of the book I related how the King had ordered d'Artagnan to arrest the Comte de la Fere simply because he had had the audacity to defend the dishonor of his son, the Vicomte de Bragelonne. The brave Gascon proposed to his friend that he should go wherever he wished, completely ignoring the mortal danger to which he himself would be exposed in that case by disobeying the King's orders, orders which, moreover, he had in writing with His Majesty's signature. But the Count insisted that d'Artagnan take him to the Bastille. These are the two phrases which our faithful friends exchanged before their departure.
“But you agree with me, you agree that God will avenge me, don’t you, d’Artagnan?” said Athos.
“And I know people on earth who would be happy to help him with this,” added d’Artagnan.
Of course, you guessed that d'Artagnan, first of all, had himself in mind, as well as the faithful Porthos and Aramis.
So our friends were together again, and they were united not only by a friendship that had been tested over decades, but also by their common hatred of the King, Louis XIV, who had encroached on the honor of the nobles, when only their lives could belong to him.
Perhaps our readers have decided that since d'Artagnan succeeded in persuading the King to rescind his order for the arrest of the Comte de la F;re, these words have lost their sinister meaning? Let me remind you that it was not the arrest that grieved Athos, but the trampling upon the youthful love of his dearly beloved son Raoul. The way in which this monarch had dishonestly trampled upon the love, and with it the honour and life of the unfortunate Raoul, could not be forgotten after the simple incident of the order for the arrest and the order to rescind the arrest of the Count. This was merely the background against which the storm of indignation arose in the heart of the noble Athos.
As for Aramis, he had long been the bitterest enemy of Louis XIV and was hatching a cunning but effective plan to replace him with his no less royal brother Philippe, who had exactly the same rights to the throne, and perhaps even greater ones. After all, it is well known that the right of primogeniture among twins was a very complex legal problem that could be turned either way. While some lawyers believed that the eldest son should be recognized as the one who was born first, others insisted that only the King gives life to the Dauphin with his royal seed, that is, as if he puts an heir into the Queen, and in this case, what is supposed to be earlier is extracted later, and vice versa, what is supposed to be later is extracted earlier. According to this logic, it was Philippe who was conceived before Louis, so he had a greater right to the Crown of France. If it had not been for this legal quirk, of which Richelieu was certainly aware, there would have been no need to hide Philip from the people, for in the event of a clear establishment of seniority, the one who was recognized as the eldest would be the first heir to the crown, and the one who, without any doubt, was clearly recognized as the younger, would remain only the heir of this elder brother, and could claim the throne only in the event of his death, if he left no male heir. Thus, neither the Cardinal, nor the King, nor a human court could have established for certain which of the two brothers had the greater right to the French crown. This is what Aramis took advantage of to justify his conscience, and I do not blame him for it.

Looking ahead two years

Exactly two years later, after the events described in my novel, The Vicomte de Bragelonne, D'Artagnan, Athos, Porthos and Aramis were engaged in a very interesting conversation.
The reader will object, recalling that by the end of the novel mentioned, no one was left alive except Aramis. Yes, that is what my novel claimed, but that is only the external side of the matter. So I propose not to enter into a debate with me, but simply to trust me as a narrator. The four heroes of my trilogy indulged in conversation, accompanied by a snack, comfortably settled on a picnic in the middle of a forest clearing.
“My friends, this picnic reminds me of a couple of others,” said d’Artagnan.
- By my sword, I know what you mean! - exclaimed Porthos. - First of all, is this a dinner at the fortress of La Rochelle? Those were fine days!
“I agree,” Aramis smiled softly.
"To our youth, friends! Why are your cups empty?" cried Athos, although his cup could hardly be called full, since he had hardly drunk in recent years.
“Well, and the second one?” asked d’Artagnan.
“Of course, the one on which we planned this glorious event,” said Aramis with the same gentle smile.
- It's all true, friends! How glad I am that we are together again, as then, and as, I hope, always! - exclaimed d'Artagnan, tipping back his goblet of excellent Anjou wine. - And do you know what just came into my head?
"We'll probably find out now," Athos grinned. "We're listening to you, d'Artagnan."
— And the fact is that the four of us have been keeping our finger on the pulse of History for almost forty years now.
"Have mercy, d'Artagnan, are we really that old?" protested Aramis.
“I remember, Aramis, you’re not strong in mathematics,” d’Artagnan interjected.
“Not strong, by God!” answered Aramis.
“But in architecture,” continued d’Artagnan. “And in fortification.”
"Let's not talk about that!" Aramis waved his hand. "So what were you saying about the pulse of History?"
— I claim that History is us, and we are History. We sometimes correct its course, that is, I say that we hold the reins of this spirited horse in our hands.
"As always, I agree with you, d'Artagnan," replied Aramis, after he had furtively felt a certain envelope on his chest and made sure that the letter was still where it belonged. "Only I would not call History a horse, but a lady, a beautiful lady named Clio."
“When it comes to ladies, you are an undisputed authority, Aramis,” Porthos chuckled.
"And no one can stop us!" continued d'Artagnan. "No one will dare to cross our path."
“Nobody!” Aramis confirmed, “But for God’s sake, be quiet!”
"Can they really hear us here in the forest?" d'Artagnan was surprised. "I've heard that walls have ears, but there aren't even walls here. Only trees."
"Unless it's some stupid wild animal? A squirrel, for example," with these words Aramis phlegmatically fired into the bushes.
“I thought I heard a scream?” d’Artagnan became wary.
"A squirrel, sir! A squirrel," Aramis objected.
"As for me, it was a whole boar!" exclaimed Porthos. "I think I'll have a look."
"It's not worth it, Porthos," Athos said softly. "Aramis told you it was a squirrel, so it was a squirrel."
"A squirrel, or a marten. I'm weak in biology, as well as in mathematics," Aramis grinned.
“I hope there weren’t any other… squirrels with her?” Porthos chuckled.
“We’ve been sitting too long,” Athos replied, and silently indicated to Grimaud that he could put his things away.
As for the horses, they were not unsaddled, so our friends easily jumped into the saddles and galloped off in the direction that I will tell our readers about a little later.
And now I invite them to return to my novel, The Vicomte de Bragelonne, or Ten Years Later. We will clarify some details of this narrative.


I. Night conversation

Remember how Aramis kidnapped Philippe, the King's brother, from the Bastille. After Aramis, whom the reader also knows as the Chevalier d'Herblay, Bishop of Vannes, had explained to young Philippe the whole situation, which, in short, was that Philippe was the King's brother, was also the spitting image of him, and by all human and divine laws was as much a rightful claimant to the Crown of France as his twin brother Louis XIV, Aramis also wanted to be sure that Philippe was ready to go to the end to regain his birthright of the Crown, France, and family, the right to live freely, to love and be loved, and the right to rule over his subjects. Aramis laid all this at the feet of the astonished Philippe, but it was a right that had to be fought for in earnest. Would young Philippe have the strength for it?
“We are going for the crown of France,” Philip said sharply.
"Is this your decision, Prince?" asked Aramis.
- Yes, and unyielding.
- You will be a great monarch, Monsignor!
It was a memorable conversation between Aramis and Philippe, the King's own brother, the twin who had been hidden for so long in the Bastille.
We have forgotten to mention that Philippe was anxious to inquire of Aramis about the mysterious lady whom he had met several times. This lady was the daughter of the Marshal de Gramont, Catherine Charlotte de Gramont, Duchess of Valentinois, Princess of Monaco. These meetings have already been described in the novel "The Princess of Monaco", and we will not tire the reader with their retelling. We will only note that these meetings sank deep into the soul of young Philippe, and he dreamed of seeing the mysterious stranger again no less, and perhaps even more, than of occupying the high position that this mysterious Monsieur d'Herblay, called Aramis, and apparently holding the post of Bishop of Vannes, had destined for him.
So the two talked about the future. Aramis wanted to make sure that Philippe would go with him to the end, would go through with the sacrilegious act of arresting the King and replacing him with his double, his exact copy, his own twin brother, whose existence was known only to Aramis, the Queen, the Duchess de Chevreuse and himself. This great secret was now to unfold like a compressed spring, which with incredible force was to sweep away all obstacles and reorganize the world, perhaps not only in France but in all of Europe.
Having ascertained the determination of the rescued prisoner, Aramis also ascertained that Philippe had remembered all the necessary information well enough. In his notes, he gave exhaustive descriptions of all those with whom Philippe was to meet, since he had to recognize them and behave with them naturally, as if he had known them for a long time. This was an extremely heavy load on the young man's memory, but fortunately he had an excellent memory. Then Aramis briefly discussed future plans with Philippe.
"You have supplied me with notes, to which you have enclosed portraits of the persons you describe," said Philip. "They are drawn with such skill that there can be no mistake. I have learned your notes by heart, and the portraits of these people are so firmly imprinted in my memory that it sometimes seems to me that I am actually acquainted with all these people."
“Excellent, Monseigneur!” replied Aramis.
"The Prince, my brother, does not love his wife, Henrietta. I, Louis XIV, once loved her a little, but that is over, and now I love Mademoiselle de La Valli;re," continued Philippe.
- This mademoiselle should be especially guarded against and at the first opportunity, but nevertheless gradually demonstrate a cooling towards her in order to remove her as far as possible. The monastery will do. La Valliere sincerely loves the King. He loves you, Your Majesty, the current monarch. And there is nothing more difficult than to deceive the observation of a loving woman.
“I will do my best to make her accept me first, and then we will part.”
- Yes, so. It is decided. Do you know your finance ministers?
- Colbert and Fouquet.
"Fouquet and Colbert. Fouquet is the first and we want him to remain so. Colbert is just a pitiful shadow," Aramis clarified.
- Colbert is not handsome, but he is clever. He is the mortal enemy of Monsieur Fouquet. It would be better for him and for France if he were to send him into exile, but not immediately, so that he would not be able to resist. Do I understand my task correctly?
Aramis exclaimed in admiration:
- Exactly! But I didn't tell you that! You will be a great monarch, my prince.
— With your and God's help, I hope.
“Above all, Your Majesty,” Aramis modestly lowered his eyes to the Prince’s feet, adding quietly, “allow me to address you thus… Above all, Your Majesty, you should be wary of Monsieur d’Artagnan, captain of the king’s musketeers.”
- I remember him, he accompanied La Valli;re to Chaillot ; he captured and delivered General Monck in a chest to King Charles II. Besides, he served my mother magnificently and even rendered her some special service, not without your help, as far as I know? And, most importantly, he is your friend, isn't he? Why should I fear him?
- Some secrets must be kept even from one's best friend, Your Majesty. Sometimes it seems to me that I am not too frank even with myself. But this does not concern you, Your Majesty, everything I tell you is the truth.
- But they always deceive with exactly these words, don't they? But I believe you.
- You are extremely perceptive, Your Majesty. Indeed, not everyone who says they are telling the truth is really telling the truth. Ask your heart.
“I believe you, sir bishop, I just wanted to understand why you didn’t attract your best friend, as you say, to your side?”
- Everything in its time. I am not so naive as to share all my plans with d'Artagnan, but I am not so crazy as to cherish the hope of hiding anything essential from him for long. Sooner or later he will find out any secret, so it will be much better if he learns this secret directly from me, but only when he cannot or does not want to interfere with our plans. Better - if he cannot and does not want. More precisely, does not want should come first, since in relation to this Gascon I would not risk saying that there is anything that he will not be able to achieve. But believe me, Your Majesty, Monsieur d'Artagnan's convictions are such that we cannot expect from him complete and unconditional agreement with our plans.
- In this matter, I trust you completely, Mr. Bishop.
— In this matter, first of all, but in other matters as well, I hope.
- Certainly. But we have not discussed my line of conduct towards Mr. Fouquet sufficiently. What shall we do with him?
“He is the superintendent of finance, this is his pinnacle, let him remain in this position, although he certainly aims higher.
- How much higher? Is he also aiming to be King?
— Who knows, Your Majesty? Doesn't his motto "Wherever I climb!" speak for itself? In fact, he already rules the kingdom, but only through money, and does not yet have the right to be considered the first person in the state. However, the richest man, and also the attorney general - this is quite a lot. So Fouquet's ambitions are high.
"But the position of the King is not the highest position under the moon, is it?" asked Philip. "I won't say that the Pope is more important, but to a certain extent..."
"There are people, Your Majesty, who plan to become Pope, even if they are not cardinals at present," said Aramis, blushing. "However, this position is not the highest."
- Do you mean to become the Lord himself, forgive me, Lord, for my words?
"A Jewish boy managed to do that," Aramis chuckled, "but I had something else in mind. There are people in Europe who have power, believe me, much greater than that of the Pope or any King, although they are, of course, not so visible, or not visible at all. But we will not discuss this topic now.
- Good! So, Mr. Fouquet, Superintendent of Finance... But isn't he the First Minister?
- Not exactly. The position of first minister is currently vacant.
— Such an inexperienced King as I will be, of course, needs a first minister.
- It is not the title of the position that matters, but the true position of the person. The position puts the person on display, whereas a true good friend, mentor and adviser may not be visible to outsiders, and this gives him some advantages, don't you think? Will Your Majesty need a true friend?
- My only and true friend is you, no others are needed. If I spoke about a position, then only for routine matters.
— The King has no routine affairs, just as the first minister has none. There are only affairs that he can, in extreme cases, entrust to others, and there are affairs that must be done personally, and there are many more of these affairs.
“I will try to remember this lesson too, Mr. Bishop.”
- You will, of course, have many people who - all of them - will assure you of their devotion. The whole of France! But I believe that among them there will be no one as devoted as I am.
- You are quite enough. So, you will be my first minister, d'Herblay.
- Perhaps this position will facilitate our communication. But do not do it too quickly, Your Majesty. This is one of those events that can explain too much to d'Artagnan. But even if such an event does not explain everything to him, it will puzzle him, and d'Artagnan hates to be puzzled. He certainly wants to solve any secret, and if he gets hold of it... Yes, however, even at court such a rapid rise of an unknown bishop would give rise to unnecessary gossip and suspicion.
- Richelieu, he was also a bishop.
- Richelieu was a cardinal. A great cardinal.
— The same sequence awaits you. First the cardinal, then the first minister.
"Perhaps it would indeed be much better to observe the time-tested sequence," said Aramis, bowing and hiding his smile at the same time. "It would be better if I became first minister only after you made me a cardinal."
— I hope that you will have the cardinal's hat in two months at the latest, lord bishop. In three months you will be first minister, and I hope that you have something else that you have forgotten to ask for, or have put off until a more convenient time. It will be better if you ask for it now, since it will be more comfortable for both you and me. You will not offend me if you ask for more, but if you limit yourself to what has already been said, you will greatly distress me.
- We will help each other rise, Your Majesty...
The young man suddenly raised his head and looked straight at his interlocutor.
- So you are laying claim to the throne of Saint Peter.
- Perhaps I didn’t express myself quite clearly.
- It couldn't be clearer, and that suits me perfectly, Monsieur d'Herblay. Why not? I know no one more worthy of this throne than you, and therefore nothing will prevent me from making every effort to achieve this. But will the efforts of the King of France be enough?
— The France of today may not be enough, but the France that you and I, Your Majesty, will create tomorrow – believe me, that future France will easily solve this issue. And since France is you, Your Majesty, I believe that I have quite good chances.
- That's right, Monsieur d'Herblay. I'm already embarrassed to call you a bishop!
— The address "Monsieur d'Herblay" is quite suitable.
— I am happy and proud to have understood your plan to the end, Monsieur d'Herblay, and I approve of it entirely. You will be a cardinal, then I will appoint you first minister, then you will tell me what must be done to be elected Pope; and I will do it exactly. What guarantees do you need?
- You have already given them to me, Your Majesty, your words are the best guarantee. More precisely, I do not need any guarantees, it is enough that you understand me.
— Do I understand you? Oh, I understand you like no one else! But let's continue. So, Louis XIV, my brother... Will he disappear?
— For everyone – no, because you will take his place. In fact – yes. Everything is ready, the plan is extremely reliable. He will go to sleep in his bed, and wake up in the bed in which you spent so many years, and to which you will never return. You will wake up in his bed, which will now forever be yours.
- So, violence.
— An abduction, Your Majesty. Painless, noiseless, for the good of the state. We will abduct him along with his bed, he may not even wake up. A noiseless and extremely reliable mechanism will lower his bed along with part of the floor into the lower room, where we will replace it, after which the same mechanism will return the bed to its original place. What happens next to Louis should not worry you, he will not be in any way inconvenienced, except for the restriction of his movements within the confines of the room known to you. He will wake up in the Bastille, in the very cell where he so mercilessly imprisoned you. From this moment on, you will be the King of France, and France will flourish under your wise rule and with my humble help as an advisor and friend.
- Shake on it, Monsieur d'Herblay!
- Allow me, Your Majesty, to respectfully kneel before you and kiss your hand.
- All this - not earlier than tomorrow, but today just shake my hand and embrace me, Monsieur d'Herblay! Be kind to me, be my father.
Aramis shuddered all over. He had never before applied this word to himself, and he was astonished to the depths of his soul that it could be applied to him. His head began to spin, it seemed to him that a previously unknown feeling of paternal tenderness for this young man was born in his heart, his head began to spin. However, he quickly pulled himself together. He suddenly remembered that he had heard himself, a minister of the church, addressed as "father" many times. Therefore, he suppressed the desire to receive the young man in a paternal embrace, and instead crossed him, saying barely audibly:
— I bless you, my son! May our heavenly Lord be with you in everything, and may His will be done. Amen.
They returned to the carriage, which rushed them to Vol - Viscount.

II. D'Artagnan's Suspicions

D'Artagnan, as readers of my novel "The Vicomte de Bragelonne" will recall, discovered that Aramis had demanded and received from the tailor samples of the fabrics from which the King's costumes were being sewn especially for the holiday. In addition, Aramis had received at his disposal sketches of these costumes. From these two known facts, d'Artagnan easily concluded that Aramis intended to have exact copies of all the King's costumes for the upcoming holiday. To dress someone in the King's costume was an unheard-of audacity, and it would not be in Aramis's rules to amuse himself in such a way. Everything that Aramis did necessarily had some meaning, this applied even to his numerous amorous exploits. Each seduction of some lady by Aramis not only gave him pleasure, but also necessarily brought him closer to the intended goal known only to him. It would be even stranger if Aramis intended to dress trivial mannequins in these costumes simply so that these mannequins could pose for a painting. To surprise the King by giving him the surprise of seeing his image in some paintings, dressed in the very same costumes that he would be wearing on those days? Aramis would not engage in such nonsense under any circumstances. Why did he give such an explanation to d'Artagnan? Of course, to hide his true intentions, and they were such that Aramis would not wish to reveal them to him under any circumstances. This in itself is sufficient information, food for thought, as d'Artagnan called it.
Aramis could not be concerned with dressing up mannequins, so someone dressed up as the King would have to serve some other specific purpose of Aramis's. At the very least, that purpose would be to look like the King from behind, from the side, or from a distance. Or with a mask! That's what! Aramis is preparing for someone to impersonate the King at a masquerade, wearing a mask? Wait a minute, that's complete nonsense! The King won't be dressed up as the King at the masquerade, he'll be disguised. So Aramis is going to dress up someone as the King with the purpose of having that someone mistaken for the King. Suppose it's twilight? Then why the precision of the costumes? And why several costumes when one will do? Presumably so that no matter what costume the King is wearing, the double will be given the opportunity to dress up in the same way? Aramis would hardly want to show such a double to the King himself. Incredible impudence! Louis XIV would not appreciate such a joke, perhaps Henry IV would have appreciated it, but not the current King. To impersonate the King, but not in front of the King? This is no longer impudence, it is a conspiracy!
But everyone knows the King by sight! Perhaps this man in the King's costume could play His Majesty for a while, provided he was wearing a mask, but the masquerade option has already been thought out and is discarded. Firstly, it would make little sense to play the King at a masquerade where the King himself is present, and secondly, one could hardly expect that this mummer could somehow significantly influence politics! And Aramis was only involved in politics and nothing more! A mummer is not Aramis's level. Even if the mummer somehow briefly influences something, the King will later cancel any such daring order, and even punish the jokers!
Therefore, firstly, the King will have to be absent from the performance where Aramis's costumed personator will portray him, secondly, it must be done so that he does not later cancel the orders made. Consequently, these orders should be such that they will never be discussed later, secondly, they should somehow contribute to Aramis's struggle against Colbert. However, Colbert is not the kind of figure on which Aramis would spend other people's millions or his own months of life, and it was precisely about such a long preparation of something special. If not against Colbert, then against whom? There are no higher opponents. If not "against", then "for". For whom? For someone stronger, of course, and the stronger one now is Fouquet. So, Aramis is preparing a carnival for the sake of Monsieur Fouquet? But Monsieur Fouquet was a figure with whom nothing significant could be done without the King knowing about it, and without the King ever inquiring into the reasons for any significant consequences in changing his destiny! Something doesn't add up!
“Think, d’Artagnan,” the captain of the musketeers exclaimed to himself and began to twirl his left moustache even more furiously.
“So,” he continued to reason with himself, “the King’s double appears, and the King disappears for a time. How curious! But what happens next? If the King disappears only for a time, there is absolutely no point in it. And if the King disappears forever, then the double must be so similar to the original that even his own mother cannot tell one from the other? Stop! I once knew a family with twin brothers! But what happens in this case? The King had a twin brother? Was and is? And France was not informed of this? Only one person could have dared to do such a thing, only the great Cardinal Richelieu could have so boldly encroached on the royal heir, to remove him from social life. But it was precisely this person who was there, at the right time and in the right place! And how could he have hidden this secret? As all such secrets are hidden – everyone who could have known about it had to disappear, or remain silent forever.
D'Artagnan slapped his thigh and exclaimed:
— It seems we are getting closer to the solution? So, who could have known about such a state secret? The King-father, that is clear, on the urgent advice of Richelieu he would have kept silent, and now he will not be able to tell anyone anything. Letters do not reach from the other world. The Queen-mother, she is still alive, but she is unlikely to tell anyone about this. Perhaps she was not initiated into this secret, or was convinced that the second baby died. The midwife, the doctor, and other obligatory witnesses. They are easy to remove. At the birth of the King's eldest son, many are present, you can not make them all shut up. But they are needed only to witness the birth of the baby, after which they disperse to inform everyone about it and celebrate the event. So, they were thrown out immediately after the birth of the first baby, and the birth of the second took place behind closed doors. The midwife was certainly dealt with, or hidden away where she would tell no one anything, for example, in the Bastille. However, perhaps she became both the wet nurse and the tutor of the second child. La Porte? He is dead, and it no longer matters whether he knew anything or not. I absolutely do not understand how Aramis could have learned this secret!
At these words, d'Artagnan thought for a couple of seconds, after which he slapped himself on the thigh again, this time much harder.
“I am an impenetrable blockhead!” he allowed himself an unflattering compliment. “Aglaia Michon! The Duchess of Chevreuse, whom this womanizer called the seamstress Aglaia Michon, and then by mistake called her Marie Michon! Marie is her real name! This Marie de Chevreuse, the Duchess, the confidante and intimate friend of Queen Anne, she could know a lot, and she preferred to know everything! And Aramis could know from her too. If a woman does not keep her secrets, she divulges them only to the one she loves. Aramis, of course, would not have told the Duchess anything ten times less important, but the Duchess herself could, if not tell Aramis the whole truth, at least tell him enough for him to find out the rest himself without her help. Well. The situation is clearer, if I were not d'Artagnan!” Today, you should carefully talk to Aramis about abstract topics, in order to inadvertently probe him on this topic as well.
And d'Artagnan went to Aramis without delay. He did not invent a pretext for the visit, since, on the basis of a friendship of more than thirty years, he did not need such pretexts. He wanted to open the door without being announced, but, remembering that he was visiting a bishop, he ordered that he be announced. He found Aramis in a magnificently furnished room, given to him by Monsieur Fouquet.
After friendly handshakes, which turned into hugs and small talk, the moment came when both the visitor and the visited realized that they had something serious to talk about, so that talk about the weather, about hunting, about ladies, and even memories of glorious past military campaigns were no longer appropriate; it was time for a serious conversation. However, realizing this, both of them spoke as if nothing had happened, with that carefree expression on their faces and that frivolous tone in which men speak in smoking rooms when they do not feel any power over them - neither a woman's ear, nor the eyes of a superior, nor spies, nor envious people.
“Here we meet in such a remarkable place, in this amazing palace in Vaux -le -Vicomte,” said d’Artagnan.
- What do you think of this place, d'Artagnan? Do you like it here?
- Incomparable! I'm not used to such luxury, not like you, Aramis.
- You flatter me, d'Artagnan! I am only a modest abbot, or a musketeer, choose which you like more, I myself still have not decided. And these two people in me are each in their own way as modest as you, d'Artagnan. This luxury is rare in my life.
- So be it! - D'Artagnan agreed, still recalling the situation in the house of the Bishop of Vannes, deciding that it was not worth arguing over trifles. It was quite possible that Aramis had deliberately spoken about his modesty in order to draw D'Artagnan into an empty argument and distract him from the main topic, so D'Artagnan continued calmly. - We had to spend the night both in the open air and in a trench, how can we forget that? But Monsieur Fouquet is still an amazing man! Such a luxurious castle eclipses even the royal palace. How did he manage to build it in such a short time, and furnish it so wonderfully? Apparently, a hundred architects worked here?
- Dear d'Artagnan, I have already told you that I am not strong in mathematics. For me, a hundred or several dozen are the same thing.
"He's a charming man, this Fouquet, isn't he?" continued d'Artagnan.
"Charming, that's right!" agreed Aramis. "And a patron of the arts. He supports artists, writers, poets and sculptors."
"Who praise him in their works?" d'Artagnan clarified.
“Fouquet doesn’t demand that of them,” Aramis objected.
- But he doesn't object? - d'Artagnan continued to joke. - A wonderful man! Generous, polite, and very smart! And most importantly - rich! After all, without wealth, generosity is useless, politeness is unnoticeable, since it is obligatory, and intelligence is powerless!
"His intelligence allowed him to get rich," Aramis clarified. "And yet he didn't ruin anyone."
- Is that possible? - d'Artagnan was surprised. - And I, in my naivety, believed that you can only acquire money by taking it from someone else! Moreover, if you offer something of the same value in exchange, including your own labor and services, you will not be able to get rich, so any wealth, as I naively believed, is based on taking money from those from whom you can take it. It is difficult to rob a rich man, since he has great opportunities to protect his wealth, but taking a little from many is the right way! It seems that he was engaged in the field of buying out the right to collect taxes from the treasury? This is a good way to get rich. And very reasonable. And what is reasonable is commendable. I am delighted with Fouquet!
“You are being ironic in vain, my friend,” Aramis objected. “If the state must exist, you will not argue with that, and if it can exist only through taxes, then someone must collect them? If it is not shameful for the King himself to collect them, of course, through his officials, then it is not shameful for someone who, out of the kindness of his heart, strives to relieve His Majesty of these troubles by taking these efforts upon himself to do the same. Of course, some part of the collected taxes must compensate for the expenses of such a collector, this is reasonable. But in the end, the collector provides the treasury with all the money at once, and collects it bit by bit over a long period of time. In fact, Fouquet is crediting the treasury, that is, the King himself.
- Highly entertaining and very convincing! - exclaimed d'Artagnan. - It would serve as the outline of an essay in defense of tax collectors! And you, Aramis, are you also engaged in literature? Under what pseudonym? Corneille? Moliere? La Fontaine?
“If I had literary talent, I would give up all other pursuits and retire to the wilderness, work in quiet surroundings and enjoy the sounds and sights of nature somewhere in the provinces,” replied Aramis.
“Yes, somewhere in Tours,” agreed d’Artagnan, hinting at the estates of the Duchess de Chevreuse.
"Why not?" replied Aramis. "Would you like to take a pleasure trip to Tours together sometime?"
“The King will not grant me leave,” replied d’Artagnan. “At least not in the near future. But your offer is tempting. Only if we go, it will not be to collect taxes. Let us leave that trouble to the superintendent of finances. They say that the King was very kind to him right up to Mazarin’s death, after which he suddenly cooled towards him, but Fouquet repented of his minor financial misdeeds, which he committed by order and with the knowledge of the cardinal, for which the King only slightly reprimanded him and completely forgave him? So that His Majesty’s coldness towards this nobleman has evaporated as if it had never existed, and now they are the best of friends?”
“I have heard something of the sort, but I have not gone into these matters,” lied Aramis. “After all, I have given myself entirely to the service of the Lord. You know that in former times I was more of a musketeer than an abbot, but now I have become so much a priest that all that remains of the musketeer in me are memories. So I do not meddle in politics, war, or finance. My interlocutors are the same as myself, servants of God, and also some repentant sinners who tell me boring stories about their boring sins and suffer forgiveness in the name of the Lord. All I promise them is that I will pray for their salvation with them, that is all I do. But you are right, I have heard something like that, as they say, the King was cold at first with Fouquet, but it seems that he has softened over time.” Anyone who gets to know Monsieur Fouquet better begins to treat him better.
"You, Aramis, know him better than anyone, for you are one of his closest friends!" agreed d'Artagnan. "I wish I had such friends."
"For me, Fouquet is no more than a good acquaintance. If I sometimes call him a friend, it is only in response to his extraordinary kindness and indulgence towards me. In any case, he is no greater friend to me than you, d'Artagnan, and he never will be more," replied Aramis. "But if you believe that Fouquet is my friend, then he is your friend too! After all, it is said that the friends of my friends are my friends."
- I have never heard such a proverb, but even if it were so, would it be true to say that all the friends of one person, say you, Aramis, must necessarily be friends with each other?
“How could it be otherwise? ” exclaimed Aramis.
- Let's not talk about us. As you know, the King has many friends, among them Monsieur Fouquet and Monsieur Colbert, but these two gentlemen are not friends of each other. - continued d'Artagnan.
"And you?" Aramis asked softly. "Which of these two would you rather call your friend?"
- Have mercy, Aramis! None of them! - objected d'Artagnan with a laugh. - There are no financiers among my friends. An intendant of finance, or even a superintendent, is too much for a simple Gascon.
“Too much for Athos, and too little for the Comte de la Fere,” as our noble Athos used to say, Aramis smiled.
- That's right! By the way, do you know where he is now?
- Probably at home, in Blois, or in Bragelonne.
- That's true.
D'Artagnan stood up, went up to his friend, took him by both hands, and, looking into his eyes, said:
"Aramis, in the name of our dear Athos and our immense Porthos, in the name of our invincible foursome, in the name of our glorious youth, I ask you, do you still love me even a little?" asked d'Artagnan very seriously.
Aramis instantly became serious and replied:
- You might as well not ask, d'Artagnan, just as I do not ask the same of you, - he answered. - If my life is needed for yours, or simply for some reason, take it. After all, you, without thinking, would do the same! Why these strange questions?
"Because I would like to ask a question of that Aramis who would give his life for me without a second thought. Do me a favor and tell me why you took samples of the fabric of the suit that the King will wear at the feast?" asked the captain, looking again intently into Aramis's eyes.
Aramis regained his carelessness and answered in the most cheerful mood:
— The fact is that without samples of fabric, a portrait of His Majesty can be painted well, but it is impossible to paint it excellently, and Monsieur Fouquet will never be able to be satisfied with the word “good” when it comes to courtesy to the King. Only “excellent.”
“Aramis, this is true for everyone, but not for me,” said d’Artagnan sadly.
"Really, d'Artagnan, where does this mistrust come from?" asked Aramis in a feigned offended tone.
“I suppose that Monsieur Fouquet is not aware of your idea with the fabric samples for the portrait?” d’Artagnan continued his interrogation on the basis of friendship.
"On the contrary, he fully supports this idea," Aramis replied and immediately realized that he had let it slip and decided to clarify. "That is, this idea belongs to him."
"Be honest with me. What are you up to?" d'Artagnan demanded softly but insistently.
“At the moment, Monsieur Fouquet and I have only one thing in mind – to please our King,” Aramis did not give up.
“My dear Aramis, whatever your plans may be, sooner or later I will find them out,” replied d’Artagnan, shrugging his shoulders.
“So, my dear friend,” the bishop continued with a laugh, “it’s still too early.”
- No, dear Aramis. It means that it may happen too late.
D'Artagnan shook his head sadly.
"Friendship, friendship!" he said. "It is so easily sacrificed for the sake of intrigue."
"Don't talk about our friendship like that," the bishop replied firmly. "It's not one of those things that can be sacrificed for anything."
"Look, Aramis, how dilapidated it is!" continued d'Artagnan. "You are using Porthos without his knowledge, without letting him in on your plans. Well, perhaps that is for the best."
"You see?" said Aramis with a smile. "You yourself acknowledge my right not to involve Porthos in the details of a matter that is being done for his own benefit!"
“I said ‘possibly’, but I am not sure, since I do not know your plans,” objected d’Artagnan.
- My God! What other plans? - exclaimed Aramis, feigning surprise.
- You are deceiving me, and in return I suspect you of deception.
- Then cast aside your suspicions!
- Then throw away your secrecy, Aramis!
- She's not here!
— I would like to believe it.
"I can only tell you that if I am sometimes not frank enough with you, it is not my secret, and that you will not suffer any harm from it," replied Aramis. "On the contrary, you will only gain from it, and you will certainly receive your share."
- That's what worries me, Aramis! I don't like it when people place bets on me in a game I don't know about!
“Even if these bets are not made with your money?” Aramis chuckled.
“Even so, even if they are done in my name and for my benefit!” objected d’Artagnan.
“We are simply settling our little affairs and clearing up our little troubles,” replied Aramis.
"Monsieur Colbert?" asked d'Artagnan.
“Nothing can be hidden from you, d’Artagnan!” Aramis said with relief, but he could not hide the contemptuous smile that flashed across his face.
- This is too small for you and for Fouquet.
- What is higher than this?
- What or who? You know yourself. Should I name it?
- Name it!
- Aramis, you are plotting against the King. Tell me what your plan is, and then we will discuss...
- I'm not doing anything.
- We will discuss how you can get out of this intrigue.
- Intrigues? Against the King! - cried the bishop with feigned indignation.
- If it’s not intrigue, then it’s a crime.
- My God! - Aramis laughed with difficulty, but, having mastered himself, he asked sharply, - If that were so, then whose side would you be on, d'Artagnan?
- On yours, Aramis!
- So you would agree to help me?
- Better! I would have prevented you from fulfilling it, to save you from yourself!
"You are mad, d'Artagnan!" cried Aramis in horror, but he immediately regained his composure. "But fortunately you are mistaken, and nothing of the sort is happening."
— Of the two of us, I am sane than you.
“And you…” continued Aramis, “can you suspect me of preparing to murder the King?”
"With respect to this person, not only murder is a crime, but also any attempt to limit him in his freedom or in his actions!" the musketeer said harshly.
"I assure you, d'Artagnan, His Majesty is in no danger. I assure you that you will see with your own eyes that he will return from the castle of Vaux -le -Vicomte to the Louvre as free as he was before his departure."
D'Artagnan shrugged.
“And on the castle grounds…” he continued with feigned indifference.
- Both on the territory of the castle and everywhere within the borders of his kingdom. The King of France is at home in any castle in France, in any house or in any palace.
“Or even in the fortress?” d’Artagnan asked coldly.
“And in the fortress – like nowhere else,” answered Aramis, and not a single muscle of his face twitched.
"You are right, Aramis. I am simply too tired from the move. Let us forget this conversation," said d'Artagnan in a conciliatory tone and embraced Aramis again.
- Of course, my friend! Take a rest! You need rest.
“Who would give it to me!” thought d’Artagnan to himself.
"If there is a man in the world who is not affected by fatigue, it is d'Artagnan," thought Aramis. "Luckily, he knows nothing and has not guessed anything."
"I'll take you to Porthos, since you seem to be missing him too?" said Aramis, changing the subject.
“Does he have a separate room?” d’Artagnan was surprised. “And is it far from yours?”
“If Porthos had snored a little more quietly, or if in my old age my sleep had not become so restless and sensitive to the slightest sounds, we would certainly have settled in the same room, or in adjoining rooms, but…
"I understand!" laughed d'Artagnan with the most carefree air. "Then I'll go and see him."
“Go, d’Artagnan, and give him my regards,” replied Aramis, and crossed his friend with a gesture befitting his high rank.

Porthos welcomed d'Artagnan with open arms. After pouring out his complaints about the extreme fragility of Monsieur Fouquet's furniture and dishes, Porthos paid tribute to his cooks and gardeners.
“What can you say about the layout of the castle and the furnishings?” d’Artagnan asked.
“She is delightful!” Porthos answered simply.
"Weren't some things built here according to your plans? For example, the King's chambers?" continued d'Artagnan.
"According to my plans?" Porthos asked, surprised. "Oh, yes, that's what you mean? That engineering work in the fortress? Well, I confess, Aramis and I... That is, I made a proposal to Monsieur Fouquet, to which he happily agreed.
"I had no doubt of it, my dear Porthos!" replied d'Artagnan, his face beaming with joy and complete approval of Porthos's words. "Aramis has already told me that he has made some improvements to the design of the Ch;teau de Vaux -le -Vicomte, but he asked that your signature be on these plans."
- Ah, so you know about everything! - Porthos was delighted. - Yes, for some reason Aramis thinks that it is not proper for a priest to interfere in the construction of secular buildings, but he understands architecture very well. He asked me to propose these changes on my behalf. To tell the truth, I did not even really understand what they consisted of, and Fouquet, it seems, did not even bother to delve into them.
- Of course, my dear friend, you did the right thing, - answered d'Artagnan. - We must take care of both the comfort of those living in the castle and the prestige of the clergyman. Your help in this matter is irreplaceable. But let us spare Aramis's delicate feelings; do not remind him of this, nor of our conversation on this subject.

III. Evening Audience

Meanwhile, the King, tired of the merriment of the ball, went to his bedroom, ordering that Monsieur Colbert be summoned there for a conversation. Entering the luxurious apartments that Monsieur Fouquet had prepared for him, Louis involuntarily compared them with the shabby bed, covered with threadbare sheets, on which he had spent his restless childhood. And although many years separated him from those difficult times, in the depths of his soul he was surprised from time to time by the contrast between the present luxury and the economy in which he had to live until his majority, or, more precisely, until the death of Cardinal Mazarin, who shamelessly robbed the royal family.
Louis, of course, could not know that his conversation alone in the bedroom, which he considered his own by right of sovereignty, could be overheard by someone. Such impudence would have been regarded as a state crime, the punishment for which could be the death penalty. After all, we are talking about illegally eavesdropping on a conversation between the King and a minister, between the head of state and the head of his government, this conversation could be secret, and illegally invading state secrets is no joke.
Colbert, meanwhile, knocked cautiously at the door of the King's bedroom, and hearing a quiet "Come in!" he entered with that soft gait characteristic of him, with his arms folded on his chest, which could equally well be taken for the submission demonstrated by the clergy, or for the pose of some mysterious insect preparing to deliver a fatal blow. The King, in violation of etiquette, invited Colbert to sit down by the bed.
The quartermaster bowed low in gratitude for the honor, but refrained from taking advantage of it.
Meanwhile, the two conspirators, Aramis and Philippe, were not only listening to him, but also spying on him through a secret hole in the floor that opened into the middle of one of the rosettes on the ceiling. The rosette was covered with a cloth, and the light in the room above, where Aramis and Philippe were, was extinguished, so that through this cloth they could see perfectly well what was happening in the lighted room below, whereas the King and Colbert would not have been able to see them even if they had carefully examined all the details of the ceiling, which, of course, they did not do. So Aramis took all the necessary measures. Aramis insisted that Prince Philippe study the procedure of putting the King to bed as closely as possible, but he did not expect to witness the secret conversation between the King and Colbert. Philippe pressed his face to the hole and held his breath.
So, when Colbert entered the room, the conspirators hid in order to see everything that was happening below and to hear every word spoken by the King and Colbert.
“I dare not sit in your presence, Your Majesty,” Colbert stammered, probably hoping for a second invitation and promising himself to take advantage of it, but the King only replied coldly:
- As you wish.
Colbert bowed even lower before the King, while the King, on the contrary, pointedly straightened up.
"Monsieur Colbert, you have been more insistent than is proper in urging me to leave Vaux -le -Vicomte," he said. "Aren't you forgetting who is the King here? Today, it seems, you have decided to contradict me in everything? Is this a rebellion?"
“Only extreme respect and concern for the welfare of Your Majesty…” Colbert stammered.
"There is nothing more oppressive than the importunate solicitude for the welfare of a man, when, as a result of such ostentatious solicitude, that man is contradicted and persuaded to do what he did not intend to do, and prevented from doing what he wanted to do," said the King in a capricious tone. "I suffered such tyranny from my august mother while she was the reigning Queen, out of respect for her I tried not to contradict her, and I had to endure the same importunate tutelage from Cardinal Mazarin. But now I am not obliged to endure such things from anyone, and my patience is not unlimited, Colbert, and it has already been too much tried! You do not belong to my family, you are not the first minister, and I am no longer the minor King over whom the guardianship called regency was established. I am the sole King in my kingdom. I can take care of my own welfare, and I will not allow anyone to patronize me like a small child. However, your persistence does you credit, because in order to contradict the King, one must have sufficient courage, or no intelligence at all. Since we cannot assume the latter about you, let us agree on the former. You are a courageous man and act according to your convictions, your obstinacy will be forgiven this time, if there are sufficient reasons for it. So I want to hear the real reasons for your obstinacy.
“I was only worried about you, Your Majesty!” Colbert said quietly.
"What cause can there be for uneasiness when I am the guest of my dear Monsieur Fouquet, who, it seems to me, has taken great pains to please me?" asked the King.
"Perhaps he even tried too hard," Colbert replied. "Excess is not always good, and sometimes not only because it is unreasonably expensive. Sometimes excess indicates rebellion or conspiracy."
"You speak of excessive luxury of the feast, Colbert?" the King was surprised. "Can luxury be excessive when a subject receives his King? And is excessive effort for the sake of the King's amusement a rebellion or a conspiracy?"
"Of course, diligence cannot be classified as rebellion, and excessive luxury is not punishable, except in cases where this luxury is paid for from the King's treasury without his knowledge, Your Majesty," Colbert replied. "This is an abuse of high official position and the trust of Your Majesty. This is theft."
- What do you mean, Colbert? - the King was surprised. - Fouquet is robbing me? I hear these hints from different sides regularly, but I have not yet received a single proof of this assertion. And an accusation without proof is called slander.
"The right to use the state treasury belongs, of course, to the Superintendent of Finances of Your Majesty, but he does not have the right to use it without control," answered Colbert. "Your Majesty appointed me Controller of Finances, and the performance of these duties has allowed me to learn what I am going to report to Your Majesty. There is evidence that Fouquet is spending treasury funds without due justification, and I will provide it to you.
"So he is robbing me!" cried the King. "I demand details and proof, Colbert!"
— Are you familiar with the handwriting of the late cardinal, Your Majesty?
“Certainly,” replied the King.
“Then read this letter,” said Colbert, taking out of the folder a letter that he had been trying to show all day and had only been waiting for a convenient opportunity.
Louis XIV took the letter Colbert held out to him.
"Yes, it is his handwriting!" exclaimed the King.
“I would not dare to suggest that Your Majesty read a copy or a forgery,” Colbert remarked with a bow.
The King read Mazarin's letter twice.
"I do not quite understand what this is all about," said the King, turning it over as if he expected there to be some notes on the other side. "I only see that it is about the money given to Monsieur Fouquet by the Cardinal. Thirteen million. Not a bad sum!"
“Very significant, Your Majesty!” Colbert remarked.
“What was it spent on?” the King asked eagerly.
“Unfortunately, there is no information about this in all the financial statements,” said Colbert, but he could not portray regret on his face, because he was triumphant, because he believed that the hour of Fouquet’s defeat had come.
"Does this mean that the said thirteen million are not in any accounts?" exclaimed Louis. "So this money was simply stolen? Thirteen million?"
"I cannot say that for sure, Your Majesty," said Colbert. "It cannot be ruled out that Monsieur Fouquet simply forgot to place the accounting documents in the business archive of the finance department. I am prepared to admit that this is simple forgetfulness, and I hope that the accounting documents will be immediately transferred for accounting as soon as Monsieur Fouquet is reminded of this unfortunate incident. And yet, as the controller of finances, I am obliged to draw attention to this fact.
“Have you asked Monsieur Fouquet, Monsieur Colbert, for an answer to your question?” the King inquired.
“As a subordinate, Your Majesty, I do not dare to ask Monsieur Fouquet for any reports,” Colbert said in a self-deprecating tone.
- Let me remind you, Mr. Colbert, that in France there is only one subordination with regard to state finances, and that is subordination to me. And if I charge you with clarifying this question, then you are obliged to clarify it, even if it means asking about this money not only Mr. Fouquet, but even if it were a question of questions to royal persons, including my mother the Queen. I am not even talking about my brother or my wife, in comparison with whom Mr. Fouquet is only a servant of the royal house.
“Litotes,” answered the King.
“Excuse me?” Colbert asked again.
" Meiosis," the King clarified. " Bagatelization, understatement. You are understating the powers I have given you. I appointed you as Controller of Finances; not only do you have the right to ask such questions of Superintendent of Finances Fouquet, you are obliged to ask him these questions. If you are unable to exercise the powers I have delegated to you, then I have delegated these powers to the wrong person.
“Thank you, Your Majesty, for your clarification,” replied Colbert. “I will take advantage of the powers given to me by Your Majesty and ask Monsieur Fouquet for clarification.”
- You, Mr. Colbert, are disturbing me at night with your assumptions, which you should first check, and only if your assumption that the money was stolen is confirmed, inform me about it, - summed up Louis. - But you not only did not check this fact, but also concluded on the basis of your suspicions that the party was organized by Mr. Fouquet with stolen money, and also that it is dangerous for me to stay overnight in his magnificent castle of Vaux -le -Vicomte.
"In my defense, I have verified the absence of supporting documents by all means available, except by asking the superintendent directly," replied Colbert. "Considering that such documents should be kept in the archives, and also considering that they are not there, I still have every reason to assume that Mr. Fouquet does not have a document confirming the expenditure of the said sum for state needs. I have dared to make my assertions because I am convinced of my conclusions.
“If Fouquet does not give a detailed account of this money,” this time the King deliberately omitted the word “sir” before Fouquet’s name, “it means that he has appropriated this money, simply stolen it from France, stolen it from me,” said the King.
“Your Majesty, such a crime cannot go unpunished,” Colbert said with a joyful tremor in his voice.
“If I weren’t visiting Fouquet,” the King became heated, “I would immediately order his arrest!”
“Your Majesty is at home everywhere while you are in France, and especially in those houses that were built and maintained with your money,” replied Colbert.
Louis XIV looked up at the expectant Colbert.
"So one of them is crushing the other and apparently wants to take his place. Will it be easier for me with him?" he thought. "I won't be able to find out until I get rid of Fouquet and put Colbert in his place. Well, it's high time to get rid of Fouquet, and if Colbert gets carried away, I'll get rid of him too. That will be much easier."
- Monsieur Colbert, - said the King, - it is already late, I am tired and want to sleep. In the morning you will learn of my decision. Order the captain of the king's musketeers, d'Artagnan, to come to me tomorrow morning, say at nine o'clock. However, he is always nearby, he does not need special instructions for this. Tell me, is your concern about these thirteen million the only thing you wanted to tell me today? Or is there something else?
“There are some other things, but these matters are not so urgent as to take away Your Majesty’s time, which is intended for rest and sleep,” Colbert replied.
“In that case, I will not detain you any longer, Monsieur Colbert,” replied the King.
“Good night, Your Majesty,” Colbert replied with a bow and, backing out of the royal bedroom, he left.
As soon as Colbert left the bedroom, the footmen entered to prepare the King for bed. This spectacle was extremely curious for Philippe, but completely uninteresting to the Bishop of Vannes.
“Look and remember, my Prince,” said Aramis to Philippe. “Learn how you are put to bed, Your Majesty. Remember every detail. In twenty-four hours, this will be your ritual for the rest of your life. You must not do for yourself what your servants do for you. And you must remember which of them has what role in this ritual. The people who put you to bed are those who will be closest to you. If they do not notice the substitution, and if the Queen and the favorite do not notice it, there is no need to fear for the rest.”
“So it turns out that bed will be my biggest test?” asked Philip.
“Exactly so, Your Majesty,” replied Aramis. “And, by the way, in every sense.”

Musical pause for the consolation of His Majesty

Fouquet was appointed to an important post,
Taking into account comprehensive competencies
And then he squeezed it in his hand
Rivers of income, hundreds of preferences.

He placed his friends everywhere,
All financial flows are under control,
Built a house like the Roman Colosseum,
Like a temple! Only the bell towers are missing!

He considers himself equal to the King,
He robbed the treasury without shame or fear!
But I will deal with him accordingly:
The thief will end his life on the chopping block.

I will drive the scoundrels out of power,
Corruption's noxious breath
I will destroy it at the very root
As an example and edification to all descendants!

I almost decided, but not quite.
And aren't all my hopes in vain?
Will there not be those who come later?
More vile than those whom I have driven out before?

How difficult it is to govern a state,
Where there is a permanent shortage of money,
Where everyone wants to steal something
Without putting in equivalent labor!

IV. Lavaliere

The next day Louis XIV was determined to arrest Fouquet immediately. “He thinks me weak and incapable of this,” he said to himself, “so much the better! I will show him who is the true sovereign in my state! I will show it to everyone! And above all, I will show it to her. Oh, she will appreciate my determination.” Needless to say, the King had her, La Valli;re, in mind? That is why he deliberately addressed Colbert loudly in Louise’s presence.
“Sir, Colbert, in continuation of our conversation, warn the Chevalier d’Artagnan that I need to give him an order,” he said and smiled softly at Louise.
Contrary to his expectations, Mademoiselle Lavaliere was quite alarmed by his words.
"Chevalier d'Artagnan!" she cried. "Why warn the Chevalier d'Artagnan? I beg you, Your Majesty, why do you need this general in the midst of such a carefree holiday? It seems to me that he does not like such amusements.
- Why do you need the captain of my musketeers? Of course, to arrest the one I want to imprison in the Bastille.
“You are talking about Monsieur Fouquet,” Louise said with bated breath.
"Why do you care?" the King asked sharply, feeling a surge of extreme jealousy.
"In his house? Is that really possible?" Louise asked timidly.
"It is possible wherever I deem it necessary, or at least desirable," Louis replied. "The King is at home anywhere in France."
“To arrest Monsieur Fouquet, while staying with him,” Louise continued, pretending not to have heard the King’s statement, which enraged him even more, “the one who is going to ruin himself in order to honor his King?
If Louise had remained indifferent to this decision, Fouquet might still have been saved, but without realizing what she was doing, Louise, by her intercession, confirmed the King in his decision, which probably could have been shaken before that.
“It seems to me, mademoiselle, that this gentleman has found in you a zealous protector, and I should like to know the reasons for such a strange intercession,” said the King, inflaming himself.
“Your Majesty, I am not defending Monsieur Fouquet, but you,” said Louise.
The King, who was already on the verge of fury, which he hid quite skillfully, was now even more furious. Only recently d'Artagnan had given him advice that the King had not asked him for, only yesterday Colbert had assured him that he was contradicting the King for the good and caring for him, he remembered how often he had heard this argument from the Queen Mother, from Cardinal Mazarin, and in his answer to Louise he put all the hatred that had accumulated in him drop by drop every time he heard that someone had the audacity to argue with him, the King, to contradict him, the King, to persuade or force him to act not as he wanted, but as it was necessary for all those who disagreed with him, whom he had met in his life. From anyone, but not from Louise, he expected resistance. "And she dares to push me around!" he thought angrily. At that moment, the moments when he had suspected Louise of self-interest flashed before his eyes, and he also remembered how vividly she had denied any self-interest on her part in their relationship. For it was precisely this - the absence of any self-interest, the ability to see in him only the beloved man, while everyone else saw in him only the King, the lord, that is, the source of many favors - this categorical difference between Louise and all others caused in him such a passionate response, which he so often called love, true, real, unique. At that very moment, the King forever lost faith in the fact that someone could love him selflessly. Louise did not demand special attention, categorically refused gifts, would not accept any titles or privileges, she was selfless in everything, but no, alas, this was only a mask, she claimed more, for she claimed that Louis would obey her, not as a child obeys his mother, but as an endlessly in love man obeys his mistress, indulging her wildest whims, gradually becoming her slave, a puppet, a toy in her hands. So Charles I obeyed Buckingham, his lover, just as his father, Louis XIII, obeyed the Chevalier de Luynes, and then de Saint-Mars, then Cardinal de Richelieu. Almost exactly the same way, his ancestor Francis I obeyed Diane de Poitiers. But then Louis remembered his glorious grandfather, Henry IV, who had many mistresses, and could give up many things for the sake of having them, but not his personal freedom to act as he saw fit. Almost foaming at the mouth, no longer hiding his rage, he cried out:
- You are protecting me?! From myself?! So it is me you are protecting, and not this traitor, betrayer and thief?
"Your Majesty, you are angry now, which indicates that perhaps you are in too much of a hurry," Louise replied. "You will not, of course, give such an order, since it would disgrace your honor."
"I will, of course, give this order and will not in the least damage my honor!" said the King, turning pale with anger. "Mademoiselle, I have been too favorable to you and your opinion, but this will not happen again. I am offended by the passion with which you defend the interests of a state criminal.
“Listen, Your Majesty…” Louise said, but the King did not let her finish.
“That’s unnecessary,” he said coldly, looking at Colbert. “Are you still here?”
“I will call the Chevalier d’Artagnan this very minute!” replied Colbert and hastened to retreat.
"Sir," said Louise, "I knew that the day would come when I would regret returning from the monastery at your insistence. Now I see that I am superfluous here. Allow me to go to the place from which I was almost forcibly extracted."
“Mademoiselle,” the King replied coldly, “you will remain where I deem necessary, and you will retire to where I deem necessary to retire you only when I wish it.”
“Yes, my lord,” replied La Valli;re, bowing in a tone that would have made it clear to anyone that her heart no longer belonged entirely to the King, and that the woman in love had given way to a respectful subject who had decided to retire to a monastery at the first opportunity.
At these words, Louise took out a handkerchief to wipe the corners of her eyes and hide her face from the King.
Louis saw that Mademoiselle Lavalier dropped a small piece of paper, folded in four.
As soon as Louise had left, the King quickly stooped down and picked up the letter. Going to the lantern, he unfolded it and recognized Fouquet's handwriting. In this letter, Monsieur Fouquet assured Mademoiselle La Valli;re of the most sincere and devoted friendship and promised any help she could.
“What noble words about the King’s honour!” cried Louis. “And what base motives! If she had only wanted to make me her docile and soft-hearted admirer, I might perhaps have forgiven this crime against the state. But to make a fool of me, to take this old satyr as a lover, to prefer an old thief to a young sovereign! I will never forgive that! Beware, Mademoiselle de La Valli;re! Your tears will be stained with your blood, for they, like mine, will not be born in the eyes, but in the heart!”

Musical pause for the consolation of His Majesty

Fall in love without hesitation, don't be afraid!
Love is overwhelmingly blind!
She does not know jealousy and sadness,
She is stingy with suspicions.

I'm not afraid to fall in love without looking back,
The shell does not hide the feeling of fear,
But the poison of doubt torments our souls,
And it penetrates our skulls.

While love carries us to the clouds,
We know neither fears nor doubts,
Free from the slightest suspicion,
But the value of these feelings is low.

As soon as we learn about betrayal,
The path of love leads us to hell!
The soul burns as if in fiery Gehenna!
Love! It's better to always be blind!


V. Jealousy

So that day the King was determined to arrest Fouquet. However, he thought that it was not really very good to arrest the owner of a house where one was a guest, and although Colbert assured him that the King was at home anywhere in France, such an act would still be too unroyal, and the King was still so young at that time that he would not wish to act unroyally.
For this reason, he decided to only warn d'Artagnan that he was about to arrest Fouquet, so that he would be ready to do so at the slightest sign. As we know, Colbert was instructed to call the captain of the Musketeers to the King.
As soon as the King saw d'Artagnan approaching him, he himself rushed to meet him. Having made a sign to the sentry, which meant that no one should be admitted to the King, he invited the musketeer into his chambers. D'Artagnan entered and stopped with a small but polite enough bow, waiting for the King to address him himself.
"Captain, how many men do you have now?" the King said in a casual tone.
- As you know, Your Majesty, I have one hundred and fifty musketeer cavalrymen under my command. At the present moment, there are twenty musketeers on duty in the Louvre, directly next to Your Majesty, Your Majesty. Also thirteen Swiss. This is sufficient to protect Your Majesty in the present circumstances, but if circumstances change, their number will be changed accordingly.
"That's not enough. How many people can you offer me by the end of today?" the King asked impatiently.
- For what purpose, Your Majesty?
- How many people do you need to arrest Mr. Fouquet?
D'Artagnan barely concealed his astonishment, but answered completely dispassionately.
“ In order to arrest Monsieur Fouquet, I only need a carriage and your written order, Your Majesty,” he replied completely dispassionately.
“And, of course, your sword?” the King chuckled.
“My sword is an integral part of me, but I will not need it, or rather, it must be on me when I am in the service of Your Majesty,” answered d’Artagnan with dignity, but without insolence.
"Why do you ask for a written order, Mr. Captain?" the King said, barely containing his anger. "Since when have my verbal orders ceased to be valid?"
"On your verbal order I will arrest all of Paris, Your Majesty," replied d'Artagnan. "But in order to arrest the superintendent of finance, I would like a written order."
"Then you will have it!" the King replied, seemingly dispassionately. "But just this. Not immediately, when you receive it from Monsieur Colbert..."
“From Monsieur Colbert…” d’Artagnan replied, as if trying to remember this name, as if he were hearing it for the first time in his life.
- Is there something that doesn't suit you, Captain?
— I'm just repeating it to remember it better.
- So, not at the very moment you receive it from Monsieur Colbert, you will carry out this order. Simply keep it with you and be ready to carry it out at my sign. This sign will be my phrase. I will say: "The party was a great success." If you hear these words, it will mean that you must immediately arrest Monsieur Fouquet, but not in front of me, but immediately after I have said goodbye to him. If I do not utter these words today...
“Then I must return this order to you, Your Majesty?” d’Artagnan suggested.
"Then you must expect these words not today, but tomorrow," the King objected. "Or the day after tomorrow, or any day when I speak these words."
"Does this mean that I must be present at all of Your Majesty's audiences?" asked d'Artagnan. "I am afraid of being absent at the moment when Your Majesty utters this phrase."
"Don't worry about it. When I say it, you'll be there," Louis replied.
“Thank you, Your Majesty, for the clarification,” the captain replied without a shadow of embarrassment.
"You may go, Monsieur d'Artagnan," said the King in a gracious tone. "The order will be brought to you soon."
"Yes, Your Majesty. I remember, Monsieur Colbert will hand it to me," d'Artagnan replied in a tone in which it was impossible to suspect either irony or displeasure.
“Go,” said Louis, and with a barely perceptible wave of his hand, confirming with a gesture that he was dismissing his captain, “and call Monsieur Colbert to me.”
D'Artagnan bowed, clicked his heels, and turned sharply on his heels in a military manner and left the King's reception room.
Left alone, the King said to himself: "That's it. It will be royal. The blows that hurt most are those that you don't expect. As they do to me, so I will do to them."
Our Gascon thought almost the same thing. He muttered to himself: "What a royal deed! To arrest a man who ruined himself for the sake of hospitality, but surpassed in this all who had ever received the King of France before, and I am ready to bet forty pistoles that in the future no one will show such hospitality to any King of France! Only Mazarin could have arranged such a reception, but Mazarin would never have spent a hundredth part of such money to receive the King!" - with these words d'Artagnan began to twist his right moustache so furiously as if he wanted to tear it out.

VI. Cunning

Meanwhile, Aramis was in a hurry to find Monsieur Fouquet.
"Good day, sir!" exclaimed Fouquet when he met Aramis. "I hope you are having a good time?"
“I will spend it extremely usefully, Monsieur Fouquet,” replied Aramis.
- Commendable, but a little offensive for a hospitable host. I would prefer that you give up useful work and indulge in idleness for at least a few hours, Monsieur d'Herblay.
“We’ll talk about that later,” Aramis waved his hand. “By the way, about hospitality, Monsieur Fouquet, it leaves much to be desired.”
- What? - exclaimed Fouquet. - Are you dissatisfied with anything? I will fire the cook, I will send away the servants, I will punish anyone guilty of your dissatisfaction, Monsieur Bishop!
“This discontent does not come from me, Monsieur Fouquet, and your servants and cooks have nothing to do with it,” Aramis replied with a mysterious, soft smile.
"Who is dissatisfied, Monsieur d'Herblay, and with what exactly?" asked Fouquet, a little more calmly, but still with obvious chagrin.
"Don't you think, Monsieur Fouquet, that the King of France is at home anywhere in France?" asked Aramis.
“It’s hard to argue with that!” Fouquet replied impatiently. “But you can’t say that I allowed myself to…”
“However, I have reason to believe that the King, who thinks so, nevertheless feels some resentment from the fact that his servants live in greater luxury than he can afford in his wildest dreams,” added Aramis.
- My God! - exclaimed Fouquet. - I am an ass! In my eagerness to please the King, I did not think that I might arouse his jealousy!
“Exactly so, Monsieur Fouquet!” confirmed Aramis.
"Then what should I do?" asked Fouquet, hoping that Aramis already had a solution to the problem.
“ Immediately give your castle of Vaux -le -Vicomte with all its lands and property to the King,” answered Aramis.
"But that's all I have left!" Fouquet exclaimed in despair. "I hope your proposal is not serious?"
"Is that the sort of thing one jokes about in a situation like this?" asked Aramis. "At any rate, I wouldn't allow myself to joke like that with you."
“Yes, yes, I understand that you seriously believe that this is necessary, and knowing you, I must assume that the matter is so serious that your proposal is probably the best in the current situation,” Fouquet replied with a sigh. “But where will I live, Monsieur d’Herblay?”
“Anywhere but here,” replied Aramis. “I know this is your best castle, but you have so many other houses, and even a fortress, and ships.”
"You are killing me!" said Fouquet, with obvious chagrin. "I thought that this castle would be mine for the rest of my days, and I furnished it to my taste!"
"If you do not do what I tell you today, Monsieur Fouquet, your home for the rest of your days will be one of the cells in the Bastille," said Aramis with firmness in his voice. "And that is far from the worst option, believe me."
“Is it really that serious?” asked Fouquet, feeling very anxious.
"Last night Colbert reported to the King that unfortunate sum of thirteen millions, which you will not be able to account for to the King," said Aramis. "Add to that jealousy of your luxury.
"I will ask Mademoiselle de La Valli;re to intercede for me," Fouquet objected. "It seems the King is ready to do for her whatever she asks."
“If staying in the Bastille does not suit you so much that you prefer the scaffold, then turn to this mademoiselle, Monsieur Fouquet,” replied Aramis.
“You frighten me, Monsieur d’Herblay!” exclaimed Fouquet.
"I am saving you, and not for the first time, Monsieur Fouquet," replied Aramis. "The King loves Mademoiselle de La Valli;re only because she loves him not as a King, but as a man, and therefore asks nothing of him for herself, or for her relatives, or, even less, for her friends. If she makes an exception for you and puts in a good word for you, this will arouse such suspicion in His Majesty that it will threaten both her and you with misfortune. Especially you!"
“But where can I go with my family and my servants?” asked Fouquet in despair.
"Think only of today, Monsieur Fouquet," replied Aramis. "Perhaps to-morrow the King will restore your house to you, and in addition reward you with some handsome sum, or, what is much better, restore to you the office of Attorney-General, which you so imprudently sold."
"Today I am threatened with the scaffold, and tomorrow the King will return my property and my position to me?" exclaimed Fouquet with disbelief. "You speak in riddles, Monsieur d'Herblay!"
“So be it,” agreed Aramis. “Believe me and obey me. Tomorrow everything will change, but it is necessary that the King go to bed today with a light heart and without a shadow of dissatisfaction with you, Monsieur Fouquet. Tomorrow will be tomorrow, and from today on, I tell you, hasten to carry out my advice as quickly as possible. Perhaps it is already too late. Quickly to the King! And immediately, do you hear me, this very minute give this castle to the King. Do it as naturally as possible. Today. Now. Do not waste a minute.”
“I don’t understand anything, but I believe you, Monsieur d’Herblay,” muttered Fouquet.
With these words, Superintendent of Finance Fouquet went to the King.

VII. The Last Evening with the King

Approaching the King's bedchamber, Fouquet asked his valet to announce his arrival to His Majesty. It would be more correct to use the word "ordered", since this amazing man managed to command everyone who was near him by virtue of his extraordinary magnetism, and, of course, not without the influence of the conviction of all who surrounded him, both of his incalculable wealth and of his unlimited power, second, perhaps, only to the power of the King, and even then only recently. Nevertheless, the valet, with a slight movement of his eyebrows, indicated the question of the purpose of the visit, to which Fouquet, who had been expecting this, said softly, as if continuing the speech he had begun:
— As a hospitable host, I would like to wish His Majesty good night and inquire if His Majesty would need anything before going to bed or tomorrow morning.
The valet retired to make his report, after which he came out and bowed to Monsieur Fouquet, indicating that he could enter.
The king was already sitting up in bed. His face expressed the utmost cordiality.
"So, Monsieur Fouquet, you didn't have enough time to talk to me?" the King said with an intonation that could be considered both friendly and ironic.
“I just remembered that I didn’t have time to express one request to Your Majesty,” Fouquet replied with a bow.
- Really? - Louis was surprised. - Requests to the King on the eve of sleep? Do you intend to ruin my sleep, Monsieur Fouquet? After all, this cannot be an insignificant request, therefore, either it will be difficult for me to fulfill it, or I will have to refuse you, which will also be difficult! So, you intend to deprive me of sleep!
- My request is indeed very bold, Your Majesty, I would...
- And impudent too! Are you absolutely mad, Monsieur Fouquet? - the King interrupted him.
“I dared to beg Your Majesty to accept my castle of Vaux -le -Vicomte as a gift, and if you grant my request, from this very moment you will be at home, and I will be your guest,” Fouquet hastened to finish.
Perhaps if Saint Elijah had descended from heaven at that moment to fill the King's washstand, he would have been less surprised. For about a minute the King simply looked at Fouquet in silence, after which he burst out laughing.
“Did you really think, Monsieur Fouquet, that if you did not manage to persuade me to accept your unusual gift today, before I fell asleep, you would not have a chance to talk to me about it tomorrow? ” he asked.
"May I interpret your smile as consent?" Fouquet inquired with a bow.
"However, this is indeed a very strange request," said the King. "Is it proper for a King to accept gifts from his subjects? And such unusual ones, too?"
“I will be in despair if you refuse,” Fouquet said with difficulty, thinking the exact opposite.
"I will not give you a definite answer to-day, Monsieur Fouquet," replied the King. "You have spoiled my night, however, since instead of sleeping I shall, it seems, be thinking about this matter. Tell the valet to bring me a sleeping-draught, otherwise I shall indeed sleep badly."
“Please forgive my insolence, Your Majesty,” Fouquet said even more quietly and left with a polite bow of just the depth that corresponded to his high position at court.
The King, left alone, did not know what to think of this last event. There was no longer any need to conceal his delight at the prospect of possessing the magnificent Ch;teau de Vaux, but the King was alarmed both by the time of this gift and by the way it was given. He felt that there was something unusual in it, but he could not yet understand what it was. At first he really wanted to take a sleeping draught and put off all reflections until the following day, but he changed his mind. Leaving the sleeping draught, brought by the valet and placed on the bedside table, unattended, the King closed his eyes and sank into a reverie, not too much clouded by the questions that arose. Even the day when he first knew Mademoiselle de La Valli;re and his heart was kindled by a hitherto unknown love, did not arouse in him even a tenth of the delight with which he was now filled.
The jealousy of Fouquet's wealth had subsided a little, but suspicion had arisen in the King's heart. After all, subjects do not give their sovereigns such gifts for nothing! Either Vol; - Viscount was built on money stolen from the treasury, and Fouquet was trying to hush it up, or he was trying to lull his King's vigilance with this gift in order to do something extremely daring. Or perhaps he had somehow guessed that he was in danger of being arrested, and wanted to buy himself off. All this was extremely strange and terribly suspicious!

VIII. Bishop and financier

Leaving the King, Fouquet immediately went to Aramis.
"Well, Monsieur d'Herblay, I have obeyed you blindly, and what will come of it, I myself do not know," he said to Aramis with a sigh. "In any case, I am ruined."
"Did the King accept your gift?" Aramis asked dryly.
"He neither refused nor agreed," replied Fouquet. "His answer will be given tomorrow, but for now I am guilty of having spoiled the King's sleep."
- Is that so? - Aramis inquired quickly. - The King will not go to bed? Will he work? Reflect? Write orders? You waited, I hope, at the door, or bribed the valet, to find out whom the King summoned after you left? Was it Colbert?
"None of what you say, dear Bishop," replied Fouquet. "The King merely ordered his valet to bring him a sleeping draught to help him fall asleep, since my gift had made it impossible for him to sleep without the aid of this medicine."
"The king will sleep, having taken a sleeping draught!" cried Aramis. "It is a sign of fate!"
- What are you talking about, Bishop? - Fouquet was surprised. - Fate does not lie in how the King will sleep, with or without sleeping pills, but in the fact that from tomorrow I will either be a beggar, or the King will humiliate me by refusing to accept my gift. And I still don’t know which is worse for me!
"It is a great gift of fate that you will spend this night in your own bed and not in a prison bed, and that is already a great gift of fate!" Aramis replied with fervor. "And it is also a great gift of fate that the King will sleep soundly, which is no less important, my dear Monsieur Fouquet. He will sleep in your castle, in the bedroom assigned to him, and will not rush off in anger at you with orders to immediately arrest his superintendent of finances! The King will sleep soundly, that is the most important thing today.
“Which I cannot promise you in regard to my sleep, lord bishop,” Fouquet replied with bile in his voice.
"That is no longer so important, Monsieur Fouquet, believe me," replied Aramis. "Spend this night as you please. You may visit one of those ladies who so effectively help you shorten it; I absolve you of this sin in advance, as a bishop."
“A priest blesses me to break one of the ten commandments?” Fouquet was surprised.
- Exactly! Go, my son, and sin, - with these words Aramis crossed Monsieur Fouquet and extended his hand to him to kiss. - Be fruitful and multiply, as the Lord's commandment bids us, if you have the mood and strength for it. If not, sleep, or read, or do your financial calculations. Or, if you so desire, you can begin to design a new castle, even better than this one. I bless you for any pastime you please. And I forgive you any sin, except if you suddenly decide to disturb the sweet sleep of His Majesty.
Fouquet shrugged his shoulders and made a barely perceptible movement, as if he were putting his lips to the bishop's hand, but his lips stopped a quarter of an inch from the prelate's hand. After this, Fouquet hastened to leave in order to carry out his orders, that is, to do whatever he pleased.

IX. Insult to Majesty

The King did not long indulge in dreams about how he would use the gift he had received. In this luxurious castle, Vaux -le -Vicomte would be able to spend more time, have fun and enjoy life. The thought of pleasant pastimes and pleasures naturally led him to La Valli;re, and then his heart was pierced by a sharp mental pain, because he realized that he was finished with La Valli;re. This new and sweet feeling of having to break with what was so dear to him, a hitherto unknown feeling of hatred directed at a former love, made his heart beat so hard that it seemed to him that its beating could be heard throughout the castle.
The King involuntarily remembered that he had intended to arrest Fouquet, and in this case the property of the arrested person would be disposed of by the Supreme Court, which meant that all the property of the state criminal would have passed into the hands of the King anyway in payment for the damage caused to the royal treasury in the amount of thirteen million.
At that moment the King realized that he had been tricked. What he would have received the next day as a result of executing the already signed order for Fouquet's arrest, he had received without that order. But now, if he had not arrested Fouquet, his grievance would have remained unavenged - the King's grievance against the traitor and hypocrite, as well as his just anger at the culprit of this betrayal. If the best punishment for La Valli;re was to banish her to a monastery, then Fouquet had to be arrested, and if not executed, then at least made unbearable in prison. Now, if he accepted the gift, Fouquet's arrest would look like black ingratitude.
“But I signed the arrest order before I was offered this gift!” exclaimed the King.
He had almost calmed down, but an extremely unpleasant thought came to his mind:
- So, it turns out that I accept a gift from a criminal? First, I will refuse his request, inform him that I do not intend to accept his gift, then I will signal d'Artagnan to arrest Fouquet, after that the supreme court will sort out his crimes, and then this castle will go to the treasury.
The king calmed down and reached for the sleeping pill, but suddenly another thought came to his mind:
— Is this fair?
Louis wondered about the meaning of this strange word.
"Everything that I consider to be so is just," he finally concluded. "Besides, Our Majesty is at home anywhere in France."
After this, Louis cast a contemptuous glance at the sleeping draught, and without the aid of this medicine sank into a calm and deep sleep, though not as deep as Aramis might have thought, who had placed additional hopes on the sleeping draught, which, it seemed, Fate itself had made a sign from Heaven for his daring plan.
The King dreamed that he was walking in the delightful park of his new castle, given to him by Monsieur Fouquet. The smell of blossoming chestnut trees set him up for frivolous thoughts. Suddenly he felt the familiar and unique scent of roses. It was she, Mademoiselle de La Valli;re. A sharp sense of loss pierced his heart for only a moment, after which calm and peace came. She was still with him, she was close and lived only for him, everything else was unimportant. Louis looked at her face, neck and bare shoulders. Louise bowed obediently before him, he wanted to keep her from bowing and stretched out his hands to her, but Louise understood his gesture in her own way and pressed her lips to his hand. Suddenly the earth around him trembled and Louis felt that he was sinking somewhere down. The park disappeared, Louise disappeared, and above the King's head in the dim light there appeared the image of the Greek god of sleep, Morpheus, surrounded by maidens who embodied the beautiful dreams of sleep. They all looked tenderly and calmly into the King's face, but for some reason they began to smoothly go somewhere upward. Louis felt himself sinking lower and lower, while Morpheus and his maids rose higher and higher.
Not quite sure whether he was still asleep or already awake, Louis tried to peer into the darkness surrounding him.
He saw a painfully familiar face - it was his own face, which was looking at him with the greatest attention. Louis realized that he was still asleep, because this face was his own reflection in the mirror, but it did not repeat his actions, that is, it did not behave as a reflection in a mirror should behave.
- Holy Virgin, how alike we are! - exclaimed this face. - But it seems he is not sleeping!
"He's sedated, no doubt about it," the soft voice replied. "But it doesn't matter anymore; if he's not sleeping, it's worse for him. Let me take a look."
At these words, a masked face appeared before Louis's frightened gaze, apparently belonging to a thin nobleman, perhaps a priest. Louis wanted to protest, but at that moment he felt a rubber bulb, smelling disgustingly of anise, being shoved into his mouth. This bulb filled his entire mouth, preventing him from making a single sound, he could only quietly moan in anger. His Majesty was incredibly insulted, and this insult could only be washed away by the blood of all those involved in it.
"I'm having a nightmare!" thought Louis. "Thank God it's just a dream. It's time to wake up!"
But the nightmare did not stop. Louis's hands and feet were already tightly bound, and this was done with extreme dexterity.
“These are Fouquet’s men!” thought the King in horror. “If he has dared to do such a thing, he will stop at nothing. He is probably capable of making an attempt on my life! Madman! That will not give him anything. If the King disappears, there will be unrest, after which the Duke of Orleans will naturally become king. This younger brother of the King is probably the same as his uncle, Gaston of Orleans, who has already participated in many conspiracies, but never in such conspiracies as to the freedom, much less the life, of the King. But will it be so this time?”
Louis broke out in a cold sweat. No, Philippe, Louis's younger brother, was not like that! What if he was planning a coup d'etat? Unthinkable! And would he have relied on Fouquet in such a matter, would he have entrusted Fouquet's people with such a matter? After all, Fouquet was now much more influential than the Duke! And the Duke was so young and inexperienced! Where could he have conceived such a thing?
At that moment, a giant man in a mask emerged from the darkness.
“You are doing the right thing by keeping quiet, my dear fellow,” the giant said in a bass voice, grabbed Louis in his arms and carried him off somewhere.
Louis realized that he had no choice but to resign himself and surrender to the mercy of the conspirators. He reasoned that since he was not killed immediately, his life was most likely not in danger. Consequently, some conditions would be presented to him. "I will accept any conditions, and when I return home, they will all be in trouble!" the King decided, after which he calmed down and decided to keep himself in hand and wait to see how it all ended.
From that moment on, the King no longer feared violence. He understood that these people had gone so far in their actions that they would no longer be able to retreat from their plans. Physically and numerically, they were far superior to him. For the first time, the King felt that he could rely only on himself, and he realized how little this was. The King’s own strength was only the strength of a man, but not of a divine anointed one. Any royalty relies only on an obedient environment, and if this environment ceases to be obedient, then royalty turns into buffoonery. In the face of brute physical force, he could only show a semblance of imperturbability and calm, they resembled the serenity of a man confident not only in his own rightness, but also in God's intercession, which allowed him to demonstrate confidence in a favorable outcome of this unexpected situation.
“I may have fallen into the hands of murderers, and if not, then they are suicides!” Louis decided.
The giant lowered the King onto some couch and returned to where he had carried Louis out.
"They're probably taking me somewhere, so they're not going to kill me," thought the King. He had almost completely calmed down, but something happened that he could not have expected.
Somewhere behind him he heard words that were clearly not addressed to him, and it was unthinkable, strange and terrible, because these words, apparently spoken by a skinny nobleman, could not have been addressed to anyone but the King, but they were not addressed to the King, and that was the horror of them. The Bishop said:
- Go to bed quickly, Your Majesty, we will return her to your bedroom. From this moment on, you are the King, do not forget it. Long live the King!
"If they have another King, my life is in extreme danger!"
He remembered the face so similar to his own and a cold horror seized his whole being. God had created a double! God had allowed this terrible violence, and its purpose was to replace the King with his double. Louis had no chance of returning to the throne, he was doomed.
"How precarious and unreliable life is!" Louis realized with sorrow. "Even the King cannot be protected by fate from common robbers!"
The thin man bowed before Louis.
"If you promise to obey us, we will untie you. We will go to the carriage and drive to your new residence," said Aramis, after which he freed Louis from the gag.
"What are you going to do with the King of France?" Louis said haughtily.
“Try to forget this word forever,” the thin man answered.
" For such words you are liable to be broken on the wheel," added the giant, "but we will not hand you over, and besides, our good King is too merciful, knowing of your mental illness. You will simply be returned to where you fled from."
Louis thought that everything that was happening to him was so far from reality that perhaps it really was some kind of nightmare. But since even in this nightmare the giant's hand was squeezing him so tightly that it could easily crush the King's hand, he decided not to resist this dream, or delirium, or whatever it was.
"Where are we going, finally?" asked the King.
"We'll go. We'll only have to walk to the carriage," the thin nobleman replied.
At the exit, indeed, a carriage was waiting for them. The horses' hooves were covered with felt-like obuchi, the wheels of the carriage were tightly wrapped with thick cord, which made their movement along the pavement noiseless. The carriage doors did not make a single sound when they were opened. Everything that was happening was so devoid of any sounds that Louis finally believed that this was only a dream, and calmed down.
“Come in and make yourself comfortable,” said the thin nobleman.
The king obeyed and intended to sit by the window, but seeing that all the carriage windows were tightly closed with black velvet-lined plugs, he sat down in the back of the carriage. Suddenly, a daring thought came to his mind. While one of the kidnappers was going around the carriage to sit on the opposite side, Louis decided to escape, he tried to jump out of that door and make a noise. However, a dexterous thin nobleman got ahead of him and gently guided him back into the carriage. From surprise, Louis lost his balance, grabbed the door hinge and scratched his little finger until it bled.
- What are you doing, scoundrel! - he was indignant. - Look what you have done! The blood of the King of France is on you now! You will be executed!
The giant sitting on the right placed his heavy hand on Louis' shoulder and said:
- Calm down, my friend! You are simply out of your mind. But you will not be executed for such impudence, rest assured! I told you that our King is very kind!
Aramis took a silk handkerchief from his pocket, tore off the corner with his name monogram and handed the rest of the handkerchief to Louis.
- Take a handkerchief and wrap it around your finger. In less than ten minutes the bleeding will stop.
“I’ll have a scar, you wretch!” Louis was indignant.
“It doesn’t matter anymore,” Aramis replied indifferently.
After the attackers had settled down on either side of Louis, the carriage doors were closed and bolted from the inside, and the carriage silently set off.
After some time, the villains changed the carriage and horses, but Louis could not discern any coats of arms or other distinguishing features on the carriage. The windows of this carriage were barred and covered with impenetrable curtains. The road to Paris was long, so the King was offered breakfast on the way. Louis had never eaten on the move before, and he found the experience curious. The breakfast was abundant and exquisite, the thin nobleman ate only a few grapes, while the giant devoured a whole basket of food and looked with interest at a second, smaller basket prepared for the thin nobleman.
When the carriage arrived at the gates of the Bastille, the coachman called out to the sentry: "The King's orders." The gates opened, the sergeant on duty glanced at the document presented by Aramis, waved his hand approvingly, and stood at attention in front of the carriage. Aramis made a sign to Porthos, whom our readers will undoubtedly recognize. The giant exclaimed in his thunderous voice:
— Wake up the commandant.
Without waiting for his order to be carried out, he quickly ran up to the door of Mr. de Bezmo's residence and began to pound on it with his iron fist with such force that one could guarantee that the door would not withstand such abuse for long.
Ten minutes later, a sleepy Mr. de Bezmo appeared on the threshold in slippers and a dressing gown, demonstrating with his angry look that neither the one who had let these troublemakers into the Bastille nor the troublemakers themselves would be well. However, having assessed Porthos's size, Bezmo became clearly calmer and more accommodating, and in a completely restrained voice he nevertheless asked:
“What’s the matter, what do you need?” he asked. “Who else did you bring?”
Aramis, whom our readers, of course, also recognized, got out of the carriage and approached the commandant.
- Monsieur d'Er...! - cried Bezmo.
"Not a word," Aramis stopped him, covering the mouth of the talkative commandant with his hand. "Let's go to you, Monsieur de Besmo. In a minute."
After this, Aramis took Porthos by the arm, led him to the carriage and said loudly enough for Louis to hear him in addition to Porthos, but not so loudly that Bezmo could hear:
“At any attempt to say, do, or make any other sign, or to escape, you must shoot this prisoner,” he said to Porthos, pointing with his hand to the loaded musket.
“I’ll strangle him,” Porthos answered calmly, to which Aramis responded with a nod.
Louis had already assessed Porthos's strength sufficiently to have no doubt that he would be able to do this quickly and successfully.
Wrapping himself in a dressing gown, de Bezmo led Aramis into his home.
- My God! What has happened? What has brought you here at this hour? - exclaimed de Bezmo.
"A terrible, fatal mistake, dear Monsieur de Besmo, which may cost you your life, and me a few grey hairs," Aramis answered calmly. "It appears that you were right."
“I don’t understand anything!” de Bezmo was surprised. “What was I right about?”
"In connection with this order to release your prisoner," Aramis replied. "We mixed up the prisoners."
" Have we mixed up the prisoners, Monseigneur?" stammered the commandant, choking with horror and amazement. "Do you mean to say that we have freed a criminal and left in the Bastille the one who should have been freed?"
“It was not we, but you, who mixed up the prisoners, Monsieur de Bezmo,” Aramis clarified. “But I will help you. I will save you.”
"I was mistaken, oh, my God!" cried de Bezmo. "But you said I was right?"
“You were right, but that does not justify you, since your duty was to personally verify the correctness of your actions, and their exact compliance with the text of the order,” Aramis clarified. “You, of course, remember that you were sent an order to release the prisoner.”
“Yes, of course, the order to release Marchiali,” answered de Bezmo.
"It was you and I who mistakenly thought that this order was meant for Marchiali," said Aramis. "I can be forgiven for that, since I was concerned precisely about his release. However, my concerns led to the appearance of an entirely different order, and who are we to discuss the reasons for the decisions taken by the King, are we not? My business was to deliver the order to you, and yours was to execute it."
- Of course! And I did it! - answered de Bezmo with fervor.
“To execute it as accurately as possible, I tell you, and for this you should, of course, have read it with all attention,” continued Arami.
“But you didn’t let me do it, Monsieur d’Er …,” here Bezmo himself covered his mouth, which caused Aramis to smile condescendingly.
"How could I prevent you from reading the order which you were to execute?" Aramis feigned surprise. "Is that conceivable, Monsieur de Besmo?"
"Don't you remember?" asked de Bezmo. "After all, I had my doubts, and I didn't even want to let him go until I had read the text of the order in detail, and it was you who forced me to carry out this order without reading it, saying that you had already read it yourself, and that was quite enough."
“What an inappropriate word you used, my dear Monsieur de Besmo, just think of it – ‘forced’!” Aramis was indignant. “What nonsense! I merely suggested that we should not waste time copying the order into the register, which could easily have been done after the prisoner was free, but that we should not read the King’s order! How could you even think that such a thing could have occurred to me? Not to read the King’s order! That is too much, Monsieur de Besmo. For whom are these orders written, if no one is going to read them? So you have no time to read an order written by the King and addressed directly to you? Do you know what that is called? Rebellion! And what do they do with rebels?”
"A riot?" Bezmo stammered. "Just our inattention."
“Your inattention, as you said, my dear Besmo, may cost you dearly,” said Aramis. “It was your big mistake. But do not worry, I am your friend, and I will not let anyone hurt you. This mistake of yours, fortunately, was discovered by me and very timely, so it is not too late to correct it, and correct it as if it had not happened at all! The prisoner released by mistake has not yet had time to go anywhere, all this time he was celebrating his release in the nearest tavern, where my people found him. Unfortunately for him, the air of freedom played a cruel joke on him: he completely lost his mind, imagined himself, however, we will not say who he imagined himself to be. It is better for your own safety. I will say more: any conversations with this prisoner can turn out for you or for the one who will support them, big, I would say fatal troubles. The head of such a fool can forever part with the body.
“Oh my God, oh my God!” Bezmo stammered.
"So, we have found and are returning to you the prisoner who was mistakenly released, who from this moment must be returned to his cell and kept under the same conditions, which, however, have been supplemented by the strictest prohibition on any communication with him by anyone, including you, dear Monsieur de Besmo. And poor Seldon, who, as a result of your mistake," Aramis emphasized the word "your", "you must release as soon as possible, since he has already spent several extra days in the Bastille due to your fault.
- Free Seldon? But this time you are really sure? There is no mistake? - asked Bezmo.
- Damn it! I tell you, as last time, as now, your duty is to read the order carefully. Read it yourself, it is your duty - answered Aramis, handing the order to Bezmo.
“But this is the same order that I have already seen, I held it in my hands and read it,” de Bezmo said with surprise.
- Really? - asked Aramis. - Perhaps there was a shortage of candles, and you were deceived in the dark. Add some candelabra to your house, Monsieur Besmo.
"Yes, that's the order!" cried de Bezmo. "Here's the ink stain!"
"To hell with the stains, I don't want to know anything about any stains, your duty is to carry out this order to the utmost, but since you did not release Seldon, I must conclude that the order has not been carried out," replied Aramis. "And since you released another, your error consists of two illegal acts that must be immediately corrected."
"But what about Marchiali?" asked de Bezmo. "Where can I get him?"
"I have brought it and will hand it over to you now," replied Aramis. "You will place it where it was intended to be all this time."
"But in order to arrest him, I need an arrest warrant!" said de Bezmo.
"You seem not to be awake yet, my dear Besmo," said Aramis gently. "An order is needed to arrest someone who was lawfully at liberty. But to restore to his rightful place in the Bastille someone who should have been there and was released by mistake, no order is needed. However, you are right. If you want the King to sign a new order for the arrest of Marchiali, I will go to the King at once, tell him how you released him by mistake, and then His Majesty will sign three orders."
“ Three orders?” Bezmo muttered.
"Of course," said Aramis. "The first is about the arrest of Marchiali. The second is about the appointment of a new commandant of the Bastille."
“About the appointment of a new commandant?” Bezmo stammered, feeling the ground slipping out from under his feet.
“Of course, because the King will not like the fact that the commandant of the Bastille is a man who does not carry out the King’s orders, or, worse, releases the wrong prisoner, and leaves the one who was supposed to be released in the Bastille,” said Aramis.
“What about me?” Bezmo whispered in horror.
"A third order will be signed about your fate," Aramis replied. "You will be incredibly lucky if you are simply imprisoned in this same Bastille, but in a new capacity, as a prisoner. That is the best case. But more likely, it will end with an execution on the Place de Gr;ve."
“I’m dead,” Bezmo whispered.
“Only if you insist on a new order,” Aramis reminded.
- I insist? I don’t insist on anything! - Bezmo cried.
“Listen to me, you sleepy grouse!” said Aramis, insistently. “You have released the wrong man by mistake. You simply return the man you released by mistake to his former place, and release the man you should have released! You and I will both forget this unfortunate incident, and your life will go on as it has been going on up to now, that is to say, serenely, calmly, and joyfully. You will remain commandant of the Bastille, and what is more, you will keep your head on your shoulders. The prisoner who has had a good time at liberty will not tell anyone about it, because you will not allow him to speak to anyone. And the man you release will not even know that he should have been released a little earlier.”
“This is all so strange,” Bezmo muttered.
Aramis took off his glove and, as if by accident, showed Bezmo the ring, which the commandant had completely forgotten about. Having barely glanced at the ring, Bezmo bowed low before Aramis and said in a firm voice:
"I am infinitely grateful to fate for that guidance, lord, without which my dark mind would not have extricated itself from this trouble," he said. "I am at your service, and I will carry out your orders exactly.
- Orders? - Aramis feigned surprise. - My God, Monsieur de Besmo! I am simply helping you to unravel the unpleasantness that arose as a result of an unfortunate inattention. I am returning your Marchiali to you, and from this moment we all consider that he never left the Bastille. And he will never leave it again.
“Of course!” Bezmo said decisively, convinced that this same Marchiali was the sole and direct culprit of all his troubles.
"And you will give me this poor Scotchman, Seldon, I think, who is released by this order," Aramis said again, in the tone in which a teacher repeats a lesson to a slow-witted pupil. "Thus, your accountability, your conscience, and your future fate, all this will be in perfect order. Do you understand?"
“I... I...” de Bezmeaux stammered.
“You understand me,” interrupted Aramis. “That’s great.”
Bezmo bowed.
“For your safety, Monsieur de Bezmo, I will tell you something else,” added the prelate.
And Aramis leaned towards Bezmo's ear.
"You know, of course, of the extraordinary resemblance of this prisoner to the one whose orders you were to carry out as closely as possible?" asked Aramis.
"A resemblance to the King, yes!" said de Bezmo in a loud whisper.
" Shh..." whispered Aramis, putting his finger to his lips. "So this Marchiali really does imagine himself the King of France."
"What a scoundrel!" Bezmo exclaimed.
"Madman, or pretending to be so, what difference does it make?" asked Aramis. "If it weren't for this resemblance, he would only provoke laughter from those around him, but this special circumstance makes him the most dangerous state criminal."
"My God!" exclaimed de Bezmo.
"The King's mercy knows no bounds!" added Aramis. "Instead of executing the rebel, he merely ordered him to be kept locked up and deprived of the opportunity to disturb anyone. That is why I have brought him to you, dear Commandant. He is mad, and he hastens to share his delirium with everyone."
“I’ll lock him up so tightly that he’ll only be able to disturb the spiders in his cell!” Bezmo said indignantly.
“That is exactly what the King wants from you,” agreed Aramis.
After these negotiations, Aramis handed over the King, on whom he had placed a mask while still in the carriage, to the guards, who placed him in the cell that had previously been occupied by the unfortunate Philippe.
Seeing the bloodstained handkerchief on Louis's left hand, de Bezmo asked:
- He seems to be wounded?
“It’s nothing,” Aramis answered indifferently. “A slight scratch, I scratched my little finger while resisting.”
“So he still resisted?” de Bezmo was surprised.
“I told you he was not himself,” Aramis explained.
“Completely out of his mind, poor fellow!” confirmed Porthos.
Seldon, who did not understand anything, was woken up, given a knapsack with his things confiscated during his arrest, and thrown out the gates of the Bastille.
The carriage, freed from its prisoner, carried Aramis and Porthos back to the castle which henceforth forever stained itself with the insult to His Majesty. Porthos, believing that he had carried out the King's order to arrest the dangerous conspirator, was lost in dreams of new favors, which were soon embodied in his sweet dreams, accompanied by deafening snores. Let us leave him and let him sleep, for the night was sleepless. As for Aramis, he was entirely immersed in new thoughts, as if he had not had a sleepless night.

X. Twice Gascon

Having parted with Porthos, d'Artagnan returned to his reasoning.
“So,” said the Gascon to himself, “Aramis has conceived the idea of abducting the King and replacing him with his twin brother, whom he has probably brought from some secret place. Bah! We met him not long ago in the Bastille, and I still do not know what brought him there, for what purpose Aramis suddenly needed to make friends with the commandant of the Bastille, Monsieur de Besmo. Now I know. And although in the line of duty I have had to communicate very often with de Besmo, who, apparently, must have considerable respect for me, his respect for Aramis is obviously much greater, from which it follows that Aramis has taken some action for this purpose. Most likely, he helped de Besmo to occupy this position. And Aramis does nothing in vain. One knot has been tied. The King's twin was in the Bastille, Aramis knew about it, he put his man in charge of the Bastille in advance, therefore, he had been hatching these plans for a long time. Aramis helps Fouquet build a fortress in Belle-Ile, actually acting as the chief architect, and substituting the unsuspecting Porthos for this position for the sake of appearances. Aramis is also busy preparing the feast in Vaux, and planning the accommodation of all the guests, including the King. Aramis buys samples of fabrics from which new suits for the King are prepared especially for the feast. Therefore, the King's double will be dressed in advance in one of these exact suits, ready to be kidnapped at any moment. But will the King appear at the feast without his traditional and, possibly, new jewelry. Is Aramis really preparing to prepare all possible sets of diamonds, pearls, emeralds and other jewelry that the King might decide to wear? Unthinkable! Tear them off the captive King and put them on the impostor? Well, perhaps, but in that case the prisoner's clothes could be taken off and used. Consequently, the kidnapping must be so quick that there would be time to take the diamonds, but no time to change clothes. What is Aramis's plan? To get close to the King for a few minutes, then lead him away tied up, without shouting or struggling, and replace him with a double who was hiding somewhere nearby but remained unnoticed? Quite possible, if it were not for one small obstacle. And this obstacle is quite serious, and Aramis knows it. This obstacle is called the captain of the king's musketeers, Monsieur d'Artagnan. Even Aramis would not be able to do such a thing under my nose! So my thoughts were on the wrong track. There will be no substitution during the day, I will not allow it. What then? Why does Aramis arrange his chambers right under the King's chambers? Aramis, who designed the structure of the fortress of Belle -Ile, and who actually supervised its construction, may well have designed some of the wings of the Ch;teau de Vaux, if not the whole ch;teau. The room beneath the King’s chambers, then, is not simply a room below. It is, therefore, an opportunity to enter the King’s chambers secretly, an opportunity to steal him away at night, without witnesses, and to replace him with a double. I am an ass for not having thought of this before! Stop! But why does Aramis need these suits if he is going to steal the King from his bed, for the King does not sleep in his suits! Whoever occupies his bed, his bedroom, his throne, can easily occupy his suits as well. It seems that Aramis has scattered these rags around me only to distract my attention! He has misled my thoughts, and while I am thinking here, the King has probably already been kidnapped!
With these words, d'Artagnan jumped up and rushed towards the King's chambers. But as soon as he reached the door, he thought, what will he say to the King if he is sleeping peacefully in his bed?
“Damn it!” he exclaimed. “Whatever I do, I’ll look like a fool, I’ll prove nothing, and I’ll only ruin everything. Even if Aramis has already kidnapped the King, he won’t kill him. Therefore, even in twenty-four hours, nothing will be lost. Well, let’s take a closer look at the situation and draw conclusions. Only a complete knowledge of everything that’s happening will allow us to act quickly, decisively, and effectively. In addition, we must think about how to avoid driving poor Aramis into a situation from which there will be no escape. I’m not even talking about poor Porthos, whom Aramis is simply manipulating. And, by the way, the King who ordered me to arrest Monsieur Fouquet after he uttered the words “The party was a great success” is the true King of France, and not his double, whom Aramis found, there can be no doubt about that!” "If Aramis is going to replace the King with a double, it is precisely so that the new King will under no circumstances give such an order! I have no doubt about that either. So, if the new King suddenly, for no apparent reason, becomes Aramis's friend, if this supposed King forgets the words "The party was a great success", then this King is a fake. The true King of France will never forget these words, he will say them, after which I will be forced to arrest Monsieur Fouquet, but the bitterness of carrying out this order, which is unpleasant for me, will be alleviated by the knowledge that our good or not so good King remains in his place, and, therefore, the captain of the king's musketeers does not eat his bread for nothing."
And d'Artagnan went to bed as calmly as if he had suspected nothing of Aramis's designs.
At the very time when the unfortunate Louis was raging in the solitary confinement of the Bastille, in which his even more unfortunate brother Philippe had lived almost his entire conscious life before him, when Aramis could not sleep from the powerful stream of thoughts and fears that took away from him not only sleep but also peace, when Philippe was trying to get used to his new role as King of France, when Mademoiselle Louise de La Valli;re was watering her pillow with pure tears of despair, when the Vicomte de Bragelonne was begging God to send him a heroic death, d'Artagnan fell into the serene sleep of a baby, a sleep almost the same as that into which good Porthos had sunk, with the only difference that Porthos believed that from the next morning his life would be filled with even greater glory and success, which filled his soul with peace and joy, while d'Artagnan knew for sure that he would have to forget about peace for a long time, and perhaps forever.


XI. Mr. Fouquet

The next morning, d'Artagnan awoke as fresh and alert as ever, and set about his daily duties. Whoever the man who would be perceived by everyone as His Majesty today might be, the duties of the captain of the king's musketeers towards that man remained the same. But if d'Artagnan discovered the substitution, well, he knew what his duties would be in that case.
The absence of an order to carry out the order given the day before to arrest the good Monsieur Fouquet will have to reveal the truth about the impostor once and for all, or the demand to carry out this order will indicate to d'Artagnan that his suspiciousness and suspicion have become excessively developed.
Poor Fouquet must become a touchstone, not suspecting that the fate of all France depends on his fate.
D'Artagnan touched the arrest order hidden under his uniform.
“I wonder if Aramis taught the impostor the King’s handwriting?” thought d’Artagnan. “He probably taught himself, and that will be another guarantee for the future, until the impostor learns it. Poor Fouquet! If the King gives the order for his arrest, he will be in trouble. If the King does not give such an order, then this pseudo-king will be in trouble, and after the legitimate King returns, Monsieur Fouquet will be in trouble again. Whichever way you look at it, the outcome is the same. Poor Monsieur Fouquet!”
D'Artagnan looked once more at the luxury of the Ch;teau de Vaux, but this time with a completely different look - the look of a man who regrets the efforts of the one who created it all.
"Now," he said to himself, "I have a historic mission ahead of me in the destinies of France. And yet, Monsieur Fouquet is a worthy man. It would not be bad to save him. Or at least, if he is to die, it should be worthy, not shameful. I could kill him in a fair fight. But arrest him like some thief, God forbid!"
Having assumed a particularly proud posture, d'Artagnan went to look for Fouquet.
As soon as d'Artagnan entered Fouquet's room, he smiled affably as if he were one of his faithful friends.
"I am glad to see you, Monsieur d'Artagnan!" he exclaimed. "I hope you have come to ask me for some favor?"
“ Yes and no, Mr. Superintendent,” answered the musketeer.
"I would prefer 'Yes', my dear d'Artagnan. Come in!" said Fouquet, trying to be affable, although in the depths of his soul he was not pleased with the visit of the captain of the king's musketeers.
“Thank you, I have already entered,” replied d’Artagnan.
"It is not very clever to propose to do something when it has already been done," thought d'Artagnan. "Monsieur Fouquet, you give excellent orders, but you are always late with them, and for this reason they do not work to your advantage, but to your detriment. However, not in this case."
"I am very tired, Captain, so I would be grateful to you if we could dispense with the usual small talk," said Fouquet. "I am sure that a man like you only comes to a man like me when he has serious business, although, believe me, I would be happy if you would sometimes drop in on me just like that, without any particular purpose."
“You are right, Monseigneur, I have a goal,” replied d’Artagnan.
“So, you have a favor to ask of me?” Fouquet smiled tensely.
“If you knew me better, you would know that I never ask anyone for anything,” replied d’Artagnan. “There was one exception to this rule, but after a certain lady died, I made no requests. But perhaps I could state my case in the form of a request, since asking someone is much better than giving advice to those who do not ask for it. So, I have a request to make of you. But it will be a request that is in no way a request, if you understand what I mean.”
- A request that is not a request, but is good advice!? - exclaimed Fouquet. - Very interesting! You intrigue me! In that case, I will listen to you with special attention!
“I would like to ask you, Monseigneur, to disappear somewhere so that I cannot find you when I need you,” said d’Artagnan. “I would like to ask you to do this, but I am not asking you to do this, mind you! That is to say, my words are in no way a request. I would only like to ask, but I am not asking you to do this. Do you understand the difference? Suppose I would like to do something, but do not do it, in that case I have not done it, have I? The desire to drink a glass of wine is not yet the fulfillment of this desire. So I am not asking you for anything, although I would like to ask you to do this.”
"So you want me not to be found, but you don't ask me to! Funny!" Fouquet said thoughtfully.
“You are a very perceptive man, Monsieur Fouquet,” replied d’Artagnan.
“So I understand you!” cried Fouquet, as if he had calmed down, since clarity is still better than groundless fears. “I suppose the King gave orders for my arrest, but did not appoint the day and hour of my arrest? And you would not like to have me near you, but you do not wish to ask me to disappear from your sight. You drive me from my own house without saying so. I greatly appreciate your service, Captain! I suppose the written order has already been signed? I suppose the King gave orders for my arrest, but did not appoint the day and hour of my arrest? And you would not like to have me near you, but you do not wish to ask me to disappear from your sight. You drive me from my own house without saying so. I greatly appreciate your service, Captain! I suppose the written order has already been signed?”
"You are perceptive, but not so perceptive as to always guess," replied d'Artagnan. "This time you have uttered your own conjectures. I have told you absolutely nothing that could lead to the conclusions you have drawn, Monseigneur."
“ Aren’t you trying to save me from my impending arrest by offering me an escape, Captain?” Fouquet was surprised.
"If you were right, I would have to be called a traitor, demoted and thrown into the Bastille, at the very least. Richelieu would probably have executed me for such a crime. Do you seriously think that I am so tired of my life and disgusted with freedom?" d'Artagnan chuckled.
“I really find such behavior extremely reckless on your part, Mr. Captain, but how else can your words be explained?” Fouquet was even more surprised.
"Concern for you, monsignor, but not concern for your freedom, believe me, but merely concern for your health," the captain objected. "I find that there are too many people in the castle now, therefore much noise and little fresh air. You have arranged absolutely everything, provided for the holiday in every possible way. You can afford a little rest away from this beautiful castle with such loud fireworks and such loud music."
"You don't like fireworks and music?" asked Fouquet. "I am very sorry, Captain!"
- Do not speak of me, monseigneur! - replied d'Artagnan. - I am an old soldier, the sounds of fireworks compared to cannon shots are only miserable crackers. Any music in the castle of Vaux is more pleasant than military trumpets calling for an assault, although for me such music is quite pleasant and familiar. I only recommend that you take a rest from this somewhere in the countryside, where it will be difficult to find you, and therefore it will be difficult to disturb your serene rest. Go, have a rest, even abroad!
“I am absolutely right in my assumptions!” said Fouquet.
"You are decidedly wrong, but if the thought that you are right makes you listen to my advice, think as you please, only do not share your erroneous suspicions with a single soul in the world," replied d'Artagnan. "Besides, you are not one of the talkative, Monseigneur!"
"And you also recommend that I leave the castle of Vaux!" said Fouquet thoughtfully. "Only you do not send me to the ladies."
"What do you mean, 'also,' Monseigneur?" asked d'Artagnan. "However, I suppose that the Bishop of Vannes sent you to the ladies?"
"It was he," Fouquet confirmed. "A priest suggested it to me! Just think about it!"
"Only half, and the lesser half, Monsieur Fouquet," d'Artagnan clarified. "The greater part of Monsieur d'Herblay has always been and always will be a musketeer."
“It seemed so to me too, Captain,” agreed Fouquet.
“We will be happy to discuss everything that ever seemed to you, Monseigneur, but only later, I beg you,” said d’Artagnan. “Go on holiday.”
“I heard you, Captain, and no matter what I do or how it ends, I am forever your debtor, and I dare to hope that you will consider me your friend,” Fouquet replied.
“You do amazingly right things, Monsieur Fouquet, and you say amazingly right words, Monseigneur, but you are amazingly late with all your affairs! ” d’Artagnan voiced the thought that had already occurred to him.
“Except for that time when I was surprisingly hasty,” replied Fouquet, recalling how he had sold the position of Attorney General of France.
- Then do something in time, monseigneur, - advised d'Artagnan. - As the artillerymen say, if the first shot was too high, and the second too low, then the third must be just right. Farewell!
With these words, d'Artagnan turned sharply on his heels and was about to leave Fouquet's room.
- Wait, d'Artagnan! - exclaimed Fouquet. - I can really leave and no one will stop me?
“You can really leave and no one will stop you, Monseigneur,” d’Artagnan confirmed.
“And no one will come looking for me?” asked Fouquet.
"I did not say that, Monsieur Fouquet," d'Artagnan replied coldly. "I cannot guarantee that you will not be needed by someone someday. After all, you occupy a very high position, and it imposes certain responsibilities. But you can leave a deputy in your place, can't you?"
“And no one will know where I went?” Fouquet persisted.
- Bah! - d'Artagnan grinned. - Do you think that such secrets can be kept for long? Besides, you will not be going alone!
“My servants and my friends will not betray me,” Fouquet declared proudly.
"First of all, even Christ did not say that, and if he had, he would have been wrong," d'Artagnan reminded him. "'My friends will not betray me!' How can one be sure of that, if even the Savior was deceived on this point! Do traitors come from enemies? Secondly, if you stay a little longer, it may happen that I will also go with you, and I am neither your servant nor your friend while I am in the service of the King.
- Really? You won't leave me! - exclaimed Fouquet. - So, am I already under guard?
“Did I say that?” asked d’Artagnan. “I will simply try to make friends with you, and for that reason I do not intend to be separated from you too far or for too long. I intend to do my utmost to know where you are, but I have no reason to hinder your actions or movements in any way. In any case, I will try to be as close to you as possible to a man in His Majesty’s service and who has certain duties to perform for him. I cannot be with him and with you at the same time. I will do my utmost to be able to find you whenever necessary, but I am not omnipotent. If you were to go off in an unknown direction at the very time when I was at my post with His Majesty, I would have considerable difficulty in finding you, and I would have to spend some time in this search.”
“You are asking me to hide, Monsieur d’Artagnan, and you are depriving me of the opportunity to hide, since you intend to follow me,” said Fouquet.
"I did not propose to you to hide, and I did not promise you assistance," replied d'Artagnan. "And I do not intend to pursue you. I should like to accompany you, and if I were to be far from the King, perhaps I should not hear from him what I did not wish to hear. And my excuse may be the fact that, although I was not near His Majesty, I was near you. However, do as you please."
"May I assume that you simply wanted to take a stroll through the countryside, and for that purpose you are persuading me to join you?" asked Fouquet.
"Either he is a complete idiot, or a very subtle politician!" thought d'Artagnan. "Aramis would have understood my hints after the first phrase, Athos would have listened to me after my second phrase, and even Porthos would have already understood what I want from him!"
“Finally, you have understood my thoughts with the utmost precision, Monsignor, and formulated them with the utmost accuracy!” the captain of the musketeers replied with a bow.
"Then I will repeat what I have already said, Monsieur d'Artagnan," said Fouquet. "I am grateful to you for your wonderful advice, but I will not take advantage of it, even if it brings me misfortune. But if I take advantage of it, it will bring misfortune to you, which I would not wish under any circumstances. Besides, I cannot leave the King while he is my guest, and I must fulfill the functions of a hospitable host."
“Do you seriously feel like the master of the Ch;teau de Vaux in the presence of the King, Monsieur Fouquet?” asked the musketeer.
At these words of d'Artagnan, Fouquet shuddered. He remembered that the castle of Vaux no longer belonged to him, since he had given it to the King that evening.
hung his head low and quietly replied:
- I'm staying.
“So I have understood your character correctly, Monseigneur, since this is exactly the answer I expected from you,” the Gascon said sadly.
“Why did you start this conversation, Mr. Captain?” asked Fouquet.
“To reconcile myself with my conscience, Monsieur Superintendent,” replied d’Artagnan.
Fouquet blushed and said:
- In any case, dear d'Artagnan, you don't have to guard me. I won't run away.
"I believe you, Monseigneur. I should very much like to see my friend Monsieur d'Herblay, and therefore I shall leave you alone for a short time," said the captain.
Fouquet cried out in surprise:
- Will you go to Monsieur d'Herblay? And leave me alone?
“But you gave your word that you would not leave, Monseigneur!” replied d’Artagnan. “Isn’t that enough?”
“You are right, sir,” said Fouquet in a low voice, “I have given my word, and therefore I will not run away.”
And he shook the musketeer's hand with gratitude.
D'Artagnan retired in order to find Aramis.
Fouquet looked after him, and as soon as d'Artagnan was out of sight, he began to empty the papers from the drawers of his desk, throwing them into the burning fireplace, without examining either their contents or their value.
When d'Artagnan returned, he found Fouquet in the same position in which he had left him. Fouquet was serenely gazing at a rose in a vase on the table.
“Change your cuffs, Monseigneur,” said the musketeer, “you have soot on your sleeve.”
“I felt cold and I stirred the coals in the fireplace,” Fouquet said sheepishly.
“I guessed,” said d’Artagnan with a smile. “And you apparently sent the stoker home to his sick daughter. You have a remarkably kind heart, Monseigneur!”
"And you, I suppose, did not find Monsieur d'Herblay in his room?" asked Fouquet.
"Oh yes, I suppose he takes a night walk in the park and writes poetry," said d'Artagnan in a frivolous tone. "It reminds him of his youth."
- What! He is not in his room? - exclaimed Fouquet in despair.
“If he were in his room,” replied d’Artagnan, “he would probably have wished to remain alone for the whole evening, since no one answered my knock.”
“Alas, everyone is leaving me!” sighed Fouquet.
"My friend is not of the stuff to abandon those he calls friends in trouble," d'Artagnan objected. "He is most likely doing everything he can to protect you from possible troubles, although I do not understand why you decided that any troubles are threatening you."
“You want to console me, of course, but you are not very good at it, Captain,” said Fouquet.
"Probably because consoling the inconsolable has never been my profession," agreed d'Artagnan. "You should turn to some holy person of the female sex. However, it does not necessarily have to be a saint."

XII. Morning

All night Louis raged in Philippe's gloomy cell, and Philippe basked in Louis's luxurious bed, each experiencing a whole range of hitherto unknown emotions. The next morning, Aramis visited Philippe, informed him that Louis was locked up tight, and that nothing prevented Philippe from becoming King of France.
After this conversation, Aramis went to Fouquet, intending to initiate him into his clever plan and discuss further actions.
After some additional valuable advice, which Philippe no longer needed, since he had already carefully instructed him, Aramis decided to make it easier for Philippe to assume the role of King. Since the King was to receive d'Artagnan in the morning, Aramis had no doubt that the captain of the Musketeers would be the first to appear in the royal chambers. With his keen observation and tenacious mind, the Gascon could notice what Philippe and Aramis had not noticed or hidden, and he could draw the right conclusions from the most insignificant signs. Fearing this, Aramis hastened to invent a pretext to delay the meeting of d'Artagnan with Philippe.
Meanwhile, d'Artagnan, who had spent the whole night guarding Fouquet, but not guarding his papers, since he had received no such order, had at last decided to leave his prisoner in order to pay a morning visit to the King and receive an order for Fouquet's arrest, or not. At parting, Fouquet, in despair, asked d'Artagnan to send Aramis to him, to which the Musketeer promised, provided it was in his power.
As soon as d'Artagnan approached the door of the royal bedroom and knocked, the doors opened, and he saw before him the thin, impassive face of Aramis.
“Aramis!” the captain exclaimed in surprise.
“Good morning, dear d’Artagnan,” the bishop greeted him dispassionately.
“An unexpected meeting, here in this bedroom,” said the musketeer.
"Even royalty sometimes needs the servants of God, my dear friend," replied Aramis. "After a tiring night, the King still rests."
- Of course. And the best rest is a conversation with the bishop, - d'Artagnan continued, smiling.
Aramis assumed an embarrassed and submissive smile, realizing that d'Artagnan had to explain the unimaginable way in which a simple bishop had, in one night, taken the place of intermediary between Louis XIV and his entourage, had received the right to command in his name, while being two steps away from him, that is, had become even something greater than Richelieu had been, in their best times, for Louis XIII, Mazarin for Anne of Austria, or Buckingham for Charles I.
D'Artagnan smiled indulgently, as if there was nothing special in the situation, which made Aramis feel cold rivulets of sweat running down his back. Indeed, he would have preferred it if the Gascon had seized Aramis roughly by the robe, pulled him aside, and hissed, "Tell me in order, Monsieur d'Herblay, what has happened here?" Aramis had two or three absurd stories in store for this occasion, one of which he intended to tell after d'Artagnan had disbelieved the first two, and he hoped that it would pass for at least a half-truth. D'Artagnan's calm indicated that he probably understood everything.
"The King had some bad thoughts, as he thought, and, having rejected them, he decided to confess at once. And since I, accidentally spending my mortal days as a guest of the generous Monsieur Fouquet, happened to be the clergyman who was closest at that moment, I was brought to the King," the bishop continued. "This is only an opportunity that the Lord has been pleased to grant me."
“I understand, Monsieur Bishop,” d’Artagnan readily picked up, “His Majesty has appreciated the many virtues of the Bishop of Vannes and has ordered that he visit the royal bedroom more often in future. A completely normal situation. Such things happen all the time. I congratulate you, Your High Priesthood! Would you be so kind as to ask His Majesty what I should do about the fact that the King has ordered me to appear before him early in the morning?”
" I am aware of your business, sir captain," replied Aramis. "It is not as urgent as it was yesterday, and can be discussed after breakfast or even later."
“Let’s put it off, let’s put it off,” Philippe’s voice came from the depths of the alcove, and it was so similar to Louis’s voice that the musketeer shuddered and fell silent.
He bowed to Aramis and silently headed towards the exit.
"Wait, my dear captain!" cried Aramis. "The question for which you came to the King, my dear d'Artagnan, has already been decided. Here is an order which you must immediately read and acquaint Monsieur Fouquet with."
D'Artagnan took from Aramis's hands the order, sealed with the royal signature and seal.
"Let him go free!" he muttered.
"You can only release someone who is under arrest, and Fouquet has not yet been arrested, and the real King knows it!" thought d'Artagnan. "But Aramis, who guessed the King's intention to arrest Fouquet, and even foresaw that the order for his arrest was ready and in my possession, could not have known that the execution of the order had been postponed! And the false King could not have known it. So you have given yourself away, Mr. Intriguer, pretending to be a bishop, a servant of the Lord!"
"And verbally tell Monsieur Fouquet that the King thanks Monsieur Fouquet for the gift he offered, but cannot accept it. The King replied that he was going to give Monsieur Fouquet a gift, and that he would soon let him know what it would be," Aramis added with a gentle smile.
“Now I have no more questions for the King and for you, Monseigneur,” d’Artagnan replied with the same gentle smile, after which he left with such a light gait and such a serene look as if Saint Peter himself had descended from heaven and informed him that a place in paradise had already been prepared for him, and would wait for him for at least another fifty years.
D'Artagnan understood that the stream of favors that would flow like water from a cornucopia to Aramis and Fouquet was only just beginning, and that all these wonderful favors could only flow from the King's double, but not from the real Louis XI V.
"Wait, d'Artagnan, I'm coming with you," Aramis stopped him. "I also want to meet Monsieur Fouquet, to witness his joy."
"My dear Aramis, you remind me that Monsieur Fouquet has begged me to send you to him," said d'Artagnan. "He probably wished to speak to you alone. As for me, since I am relieved of the necessity of guarding him, I shall perhaps refrain from visiting a man whom I have been harassing with my presence all evening and all night. You yourself can show him this order. And I remembered that I had promised to visit Porthos as soon as I had the opportunity, and it seems to me that it has arisen just now."
Aramis shrugged and went into Fouquet's office, taking the order from d'Artagnan's hands.
Having made sure that Aramis had left, d'Artagnan approached the king's valet.
" Good morning, Hubert," said d'Artagnan. "At what hour did His Majesty send for the Bishop of Vannes?"
"Good morning, Monsieur d'Artagnan," replied the astonished footman. "He didn't send for him at all!"
- Ah, yes! - exclaimed d'Artagnan. - How could I have forgotten? After all, only yesterday evening, in my presence, His Majesty asked the bishop to come to him at exactly eight o'clock in the morning!
"I have been here since six o'clock, Monsieur d'Artagnan," the footman replied. "I assure you, Monsieur the Bishop did not pass by me. He was already in the bedroom at that time!"
- Quite right! - smiled d'Artagnan. - His Majesty said so. He told Monseigneur to come at five-thirty, or a little later, but not later than eight o'clock in the morning, that's what he said! Goodbye, Hubert!
And d'Artagnan again decisively twirled his right moustache, after which he departed with an air as if he had solved the most important question of the universe. Perhaps this was so, or almost so.

XIII. The King's Friend

Fouquet expected d'Artagnan to come and arrest him, but secretly he hoped that Aramis would come before d'Artagnan or with him. In the last days of their communication, Aramis had so confidently promised Fouquet salvation from all misfortunes, from ruin to the King's disfavor, that Fouquet involuntarily became filled with faith in the omnipotence of this man. Indeed, what else could he do in a situation where, following ruin, he was threatened with arrest, and perhaps even execution?
When he heard the footsteps, he thought they were those of a military man, so he decided that d'Artagnan was coming towards him, alone, without Aramis. Fouquet intended to calmly meet his fate and, pulling himself together, with the calm of a doomed man, he awaited the appearance of the captain of the musketeers.
The doors swung open and the smiling Bishop of Vannes appeared on the threshold.
"How fortunate that fate has allowed me to see you, Monseigneur, before I am arrested!" cried Fouquet. "I know that nothing can be done to save me, but you, my friend and priest, will give me the consolation I need, but I would not like to show it to anyone but you, my friend."
"You are mistaken in everything except that you call me your friend!" replied Aramis.
“What do you mean by that?” Fouquet asked in surprise.
"You are mistaken in supposing that you need consolation, because you are mistaken in supposing that you will be arrested. Not only will you not be arrested, but you will be rewarded for all your services, and rewarded with dignity," replied Aramis. "Calm down, smile, and be happy. This order cancels your arrest. Soon there will be new orders that will return to you all that was taken from you, and reward you beyond that."
- I do not quite understand why the King ordered my arrest yesterday, nor do I understand why he postponed my arrest indefinitely, but I understand even less the reasons why the King decided to cancel his order of yesterday today, and also intends, as you claim, to reward me. Any courtier should probably be prepared for such unmotivated actions of the King, but there must be at least some logic, there must be reasons for all these changes?
"If you please, I will explain," smiled Aramis. "We have plenty of time, we are in no hurry. First of all, I will explain to you the King's hatred. First of all, you are too rich when the King was too poor for a very long time.
"Alas, it is true, as it is true that everything has changed nowadays," agreed Fouquet. "After the death of the Cardinal, the King inherited considerable sums, while I, by order of the King, spent everything I had. When the royal treasury was exhausted, I was forced to draw from my own resources, and when that too was exhausted, I sold some things, both my things and my positions, as you know, but it did not help. Not only did I go broke, but I somehow aroused the King's displeasure so strong that he decided to arrest me!"
“The King’s money goes to state needs, and there is not as much left for a luxurious life as one might think, whereas you have demonstrated such luxury that the King cannot afford,” Aramis answered.
- My God! I myself do not live in the luxury with which I tried to surround my King! Can a service to one's King really be considered something reprehensible? - exclaimed Fouquet.
"Just accept the fact that you showed the King a level of wealth that the King himself does not have," Aramis clarified. "And it irritated him."
- Let it be so, we already discussed it yesterday, and you advised me to give him the castle of Vaux, which I did, - answered Fouquet. - But the King has not yet accepted my gift, and any decision he makes will cause me despair. If he accepts the gift, I am completely ruined, if he refuses, then I am insulted.
"Neither the one nor the other," replied Aramis. "The King will thank you most heartily, so you will not be insulted; but the King will restore to you your castle of Vaux as a reward for your faithful service, so you will not be ruined."
"So, the talk about the King being jealous of me is a joke?" Fouquet asked, confused.
"Let's restore the chronology of our conversation," Aramis replied in the tone of a teacher explaining a difficult lesson to a student. "First, let's figure out why the King hates you and why he ordered you arrested, and then we'll talk about why his decision and your fate changed so favorably."
“I’m all ears,” Fouquet agreed.
- For the sake of brevity, let us limit ourselves to the facts, - continued Aramis. - Fact one. The King envies your luxury and your wealth, and if you don’t have it, you manage to demonstrate very convincingly that you do. The King envies, and therefore hates. Fact two. You wrote a letter to his beloved Mademoiselle de La Valli;re, he learned of this letter, he read it, it aroused his ardent jealousy, and therefore he hates you even more.
“ But it was you who recommended that I write this letter, Monseigneur!” Fouquet was surprised.
“Yes, I confess I gave bad advice,” the Bishop agreed. “I managed to learn before anyone else that this mademoiselle would have a very great influence on the King, and so I thought it would not be a bad idea to secure the friendship or love of this mademoiselle. You have the gift of making an impression on almost all the women of France! I only misjudged her character. Such women are one in a million. She needs the King only as the very man he is, apart from his royal power and dignity. If the King were to turn out to be the most ordinary citizen of France tomorrow, she would love him no less, and if someone else were to turn out to be the King, he would not arouse any feelings in her. Such relations are called love.”
"I will explain everything to the King! I will explain that I was only offering Mademoiselle de La Valli;re friendship. He will understand me, because he is a man!" exclaimed Fouquet.
"Louis is a man, and that is why he will understand you in his own way, not in the way you would like him to understand. However, there is no need to explain anything. After all, I have brought you the order to cancel the arrest," Aramis objected.
"It can't be that a man was arrested just because he tried to please his King and offered friendship to the King's girlfriend!" Fouquet exclaimed angrily.
- Hundreds of thousands of people have been executed for lesser offences, though that was not in our day, thank God! - answered Aramis. - However, who knows? Perhaps such times will return. In fact, they will certainly return. But let's not get distracted. There is a third fact. It is that you are owed thirteen million, for which you will not be able to justify yourself.
"This unfortunate misunderstanding did not arise yesterday, but the King decided to arrest me yesterday," Fouquet objected. "Besides, I did not steal this money, I only lost the papers confirming the legitimacy of the expenses I made for the benefit of the King and France. However, I admit that in the absence of these documents I am a thief who robbed the treasury."
“The King decided to arrest you yesterday for the reason that all three facts were presented to him simultaneously by one person,” Aramis summed up.
"His name is Colbert, I know!" exclaimed Fouquet. "I underestimated him, I confess! I can't understand how he found out about the thirteen million?"
“I understand that, Monseigneur, and you forget that Madame de Chevreuse, who may have known some of the Queen’s secrets, and therefore Mazarin’s, is not only a great friend of Colbert’s, but is also going to become related to him through one of her daughters, but that is not the point,” replied Aramis. “Now that is of no importance. The King is not angry with you, and you will never hear of this debt again. It is no more.”
— Is the King so magnanimous that he forgave me all three sins or facts that you just mentioned?
- Not at all! - objected Aramis. - Louis XIV has not forgiven you, and never will, but the King of France has forgiven you completely, and will not make any claims against you. And if Monsieur Colbert and the Duchess de Chevreuse plot against you, the King will send them to their ancestral estates with orders not to leave them for the next twenty, no, thirty years.
"You speak in riddles, Monseigneur!" exclaimed Fouquet.
"In order for you all to understand and appreciate it, Monseigneur, I must initiate you into a secret that, until yesterday evening, was known only to three people and God," replied Aramis. "Tonight, another person was initiated into it, although I believe it did not make him any happier, but rather the opposite. You will be the fifth person initiated into this secret, and there will be no sixth!"
"I know how to keep secrets, my own and others'," Fouquet objected, "but that's precisely why I know that the best way to keep someone else's secret is not to know it at all. That way it will be calmer for both me and you."
“But I intend to reveal this secret to you, Monsignor,” Arami objected.
"That's a pity!" replied Fouquet. "I am bursting with curiosity, because inexplicable things happen that concern me directly, but if, in order to explain these mysteries, I must learn someone's secret, I prefer not to know it and to remain in a state of bewilderment."
“Perhaps I really shouldn’t tell him this secret?” thought Aramis. “The fewer people who know it, the safer it is! Nonsense! Fouquet is extremely ambitious! On his coat of arms, where a squirrel is depicted, is the inscription: “Wherever I won’t climb!” If he had his way, he would depose the King and become King himself! So let him know that I can press such springs that the King himself will obey us and carry out our will! He will know this and will stop any attempts to oppose the King. On the contrary, he will contribute to the strengthening of his power, the strengthening of absolutism, because now the monarchy is our instrument for governing France! Decided! I will reveal the secret to him right now, and my trust in him will finally make him my most faithful ally in this matter!”
"You upset me, Monsieur Fouquet, since I firmly intend to initiate you into this secret and I hope that you will appreciate my friendship, and my efforts for your salvation, and our joint possibilities," said Aramis. "Our already mutually beneficial alliance will become ten times more useful and a hundred times more effective, and for this there must be no secrets left between us!"
“No secrets – that’s going too far,” Aramis immediately thought with irony. “But even when you’re telling the most insignificant and insignificant secret, it’s useful to declare that you have no secrets from the person you’re entrusting it to. And here – this is the thing! Let him think that he knows absolutely everything about me and my affairs.”
“If it’s important to you, I’m all ears,” Fouquet agreed.
It must be said that Fouquet was not so simple. He did not disdain any information, especially not some important secret, but he knew very well that it is easier to initiate into a secret those who do not show impatience in becoming initiated into it.
“ Do you know that Louis XIII has a brother?” Aramis asked solemnly, knowing that no one could overhear their conversation.
“ Of course, the whole world knows about it, it’s the Duke of Orleans!” Fouquet shrugged.
“I mean the other brother, the twin brother,” continued Aramis. “The brother born a few minutes later, and who resembled Louis like two peas in a pod.”
"Impossible!" exclaimed Fouquet. "Louis's birth took place in the presence of proper witnesses! There were many of them!"
"That was so," agreed Aramis, "but these witnesses left the Queen when the birth of the primacy was over. However, the contractions soon resumed, and after some time the Queen gave birth to a second son, so similar to the first that even his own mother would not have distinguished them from each other! And this resemblance was transmitted with age, it has not gone away, and even now they do not differ in appearance, voice, complexion, or hair!"
"It's a curious fantasy, my dear d'Herblay, and I'll have to share this amusing plot with Monsieur La Fontaine," said Fouquet, trying to look cheerful, although he was quite embarrassed. "However, we should choose another country for this plot, and perhaps even another century. It will be a fine tale!"
"Come to your senses, Monseigneur! I have told you the pure truth," Aramis interrupted him.
- Allow me... You claim that Queen Anne gave birth not to one Dauphin Louis, but to two, twin brothers? - Fouquet became serious. - How, I ask you, did this remain a secret for all of France, and why did it not remain a secret for you, Monsieur d'Herblay?
"I understand your mistrust, Monseigneur, and I am ready to explain all the circumstances that interest you," Aramis replied. "First of all, the King was delighted at first, but hastened to share his joy with the Cardinal. Richelieu, who never forgot about the interests of state, cooled the King's joy by explaining to him that one Dauphin means peace and well-being for the country, while two equal claimants are a source of unrest and disaster.
“Couldn’t the laws of succession issued by the King in advance have settled all these problems in this case?” Fouquet was surprised.
"Do you agree, Monseigneur, that two twin brothers have legally absolutely equal rights to the succession to the throne?" asked Aramis.
- Undoubtedly! - answered Fouquet. - Various commentators allow deviations from this statement, which only further confuse the situation. While some maintain that the elder brother is the one who came out of the womb first, others maintain that, on the contrary, the one who came out first is the one who was inserted last, that is, the one who was born first was conceived second. In this confused situation, it is more correct, in my opinion, to recognize the twins as having complete equality in rights. I would say that from a legal standpoint, twins are united in their rights, and their rights are equal, therefore, if they are divided, then only equally.
“Since I hear this answer from the lips of the Attorney General of France, I recognize your statement as the only correct one,” Aramis smiled.
“I’m no longer the attorney general,” Fouquet smiled sadly in response.
— Already or still, we will deal with that later. I suppose you will not refuse to receive the office of Attorney General from the hands of the King as a gift, on condition that the King buys this office from the one who bought it from you by cunning? But we have digressed from the subject, — continued Aramis. — Now, if twins were born, and this is precisely what happened, then according to the laws of God and man they should have received equal rights with respect to the inheritance of the crown of France. Both of them had the right to live in the palace, to be brought up as princes, to be declared the heirs of the King. But one King is a blessing, two Kings are an eternal source of unrest! Therefore, for the just reasons that Cardinal Richelieu brought to the King and Queen, one of the brothers, born only half an hour later, was criminally disinherited in the name of the good of France. He was first secretly handed over to a wet nurse, where he grew up far from the palace, although not in poverty, but far from the luxury that befits the heir to the throne, and later, for the same reasons, to protect the remaining heir from any upheavals, and France from threats of a coup, the unfortunate prince was placed in the Bastille.
“It’s terrible, and I’m ready to believe you and be indignant with you, Monsignor, but you haven’t answered my question about how you know this?” Fouquet asked anxiously.
“At that time I was young, amorous, romantic, and I considered the most beautiful lady in the world to be the one who was so close to the Queen that she was initiated into this secret,” Aramis smiled again.
- Duchess de Cheve...
“No need for names, Monsignor, we have already named too many!” Aramis interrupted him.
“And I really knew that she was madly in love with one of the musketeers or the abbot, so it was you, Bishop?” asked Fouquet.
“Many priests in their youth were not distinguished by abstinence, which made them even more zealous servants of God, since they have something to pray for,” sighed Aramis, and raised his eyes to heaven.
“So she told you everything,” Fouquet guessed.
“Not exactly,” Aramis said. “She only once dared to ask me for help in settling a question in connection with the matter, without telling me the details. She thought I would not understand the essence of things. But I noticed some inconsistencies in the matter, made my own little investigation, after which my charming friend—she was simply delightful in those days, how charming!—was simply forced to tell me everything I wanted to know, for fear that otherwise I would make it so that someone who should not know what I knew would nevertheless find out. I simply cornered her. From that moment on, our friendly relations began to subside little by little, but sometimes we are forced to act together, and sometimes we are on opposite sides of the barricades. A sort of Fronde with a temporary non-aggression pact.”
- You have convinced me, monseigneur. I believe every word you say! - exclaimed Fouquet. - But this knowledge imposes certain duties on us! We cannot allow the legitimate co-heir to the crown of France to languish in the Bastille!
" I reasoned in exactly the same way, monseigneur," said Aramis cheerfully, glad to have found in Fouquet such a sensible like-minded person. "After all, if one brother has received all the rights, depriving the other, who has exactly the same rights, then the first of them is a usurper, and the second an innocent victim, is it not so?"
“Exactly so, and it is our duty to fight for the establishment of justice!” Fouquet continued enthusiastically.
“There’s no need to fight anymore,” Aramis answered with a smile.
"You mean to say that we are too late?" Fouquet was horrified. "Did the unfortunate prince really die in the Bastille?"
“He is alive and well, my dear friend, he is fine, calm down!” Aramis replied.
"Everything can't be all right with the prince locked up in the Bastille! Let's go and free him immediately!" Fouquet persisted.
“To begin with, simply agree that the second brother has every legal right to rule France, while the first brother, even if involuntarily, without knowing all the circumstances that I have told you, still remained a usurper,” replied Aramis. “You agree with that, don’t you?”
- Certainly, monseigneur! Two twin brothers are almost the same as one man, they are two in one. This is so, and therefore we must hasten even more, because just think that every extra minute spent by the prince in the Bastille is terrible, it is a stain of shame on the whole country! - Fouquet did not calm down.
"We are at last approaching the explanation I am trying to give you," Aramis answered patiently. "Consider the two facts. The first, which I told you, is that Louis XIV hates you and will never forgive you. His continued rule is your doom. The other, whose name, by the way, is Philippe, not only does not hate you, but is, on the contrary, very well disposed towards you, since he knows about you from my stories and not from the lips of slanderers and envious people like Colbert.
“I don’t see any connection between these facts,” Fouquet was perplexed.
“Add to this the fact that you received from my hands the King’s decree repealing the previously signed decree of your arrest,” continued Aramis.
- Philippe could have signed such a decree. I understand! - Fouquet was delighted. - You convinced the King to release Philippe and now France has two Kings? And the second King convinced the first to refuse my arrest? A very strange turn of events!
“In this respect, I share Richelieu’s views that France does not need two Kings, it is too dangerous and too much,” Aramis objected. “Twice as many as necessary.”
"Then what is the explanation?" Fouquet asked anxiously. "You threatened the King that you would reveal his secret, and thus forced him to refuse to arrest me? Do you know that this is extremely risky?"
"I call those undertakings risky in which there is at least a small chance of winning, even if it is much smaller than the chance of losing," replied Aramis. "In a situation where the King is threatened, there is no chance of success. If I had done as you say, you and I would both be in the Bastille by now. Just think! There is only one King in France now, and he is very well disposed towards you, and therefore it is not Louis!"
- Really? - Fouquet was horrified. - You replaced the King with his twin brother! What a terrible crime! After all, you could not act by conviction! Therefore, you acted by force! You raised your hand against your monarch, against the King? If you do not fear the judgment of man, at least fear the judgment of God!
“I am inclined to believe that the Lord has chosen me as an instrument for the restoration of justice, and in this case I am not an enemy of God, but his faithful servant,” Aramis answered with feigned humility.
- Unthinkable! To encroach on the King's freedom at the very moment when he is my guest and has trusted me completely? - Fouquet continued to be indignant.
"He did not trust your hospitality so much!" objected Aramis. "He brought with him the guards who guarded him in your house."
"He could bring with him whomever he wished. The King's friends are my friends, and his guests are my guests," Fouquet stubbornly objected.
"Even those who were ordered to arrest you?" Aramis asked coldly. "Wake up from your fantasies and prejudices!"
"Have you killed the King?" Fouquet exclaimed in fear.
- He simply swapped two twin brothers. Remember, Monsignor, you yourself said that two twin brothers are almost the same as one person, they are one, two in one? - Aramis reminded. - Therefore, to swap them is the same as simply turning one person! Where there was left, there became right, and where there was right, there became left, the whole remained whole. On the whole, nothing has changed! One injustice has been replaced by another, and the one who is now punished, in any case, is punished for the fact that he was previously essentially a usurper, albeit an involuntary one, and the one who is rewarded, in any case, has served his punishment in advance, even without having any guilt before anyone!
- In my house, violence was committed against my guest! - Fouquet did not calm down. - This alone will disgrace my house forever, as well as me! But violence was committed against the King of France! This disgrace will never be washed away! It would be better if I were arrested today and taken to the Bastille, executed!
“But you are innocent of everything, Monseigneur, while Louis is guilty before you!” Aramis tried to object.
- If it weren't for your adventure, I would have ended up in the Bastille without guilt! - Fouquet objected. - To suffer innocently is not as terrible as to suffer knowing that you have a great guilt! Socrates noted this! Woe is me! But I will set everything right! I am going to the Bastille immediately to free the King!
"And take his place there?" asked Aramis dispassionately. "And at the same time hide me there, monseigneur? And that innocent prince who has no less right to the throne that Louis occupied alone?"
Indeed, he was overcome by a complete apathy born of disappointment, since the "great Fouquet", instead of appreciating the intelligence and enterprise of Aramis and rejoicing at the prospect of reaping the fruits of such a successful plan brought to life, intended to spoil everything through some fanatical attachment to an ephemeral "morality" or "ethics" which, in Aramis's opinion, existed only in Fouquet's inflamed imagination. As a result of these prejudices, the destinies of those dear to him would be hopelessly crippled, evil would return to the throne, and good would return to prison! On the list of the unfortunate victims of this "morality" were Philippe and Fouquet, but above all, Porthos and Aramis himself, all those who strove for good. On the list of those to whom this cowardice promised to profit were the unworthy King and his cunning controller of finances, Jean-Baptiste Colbert! But as soon as Aramis remembered Porthos, his apathy evaporated. He had to save Porthos, who had trusted him in everything.
“Monseigneur, you are free to do as you see fit, since you are now free,” said Aramis, no longer apathetic. “I should hinder you, but I do not understand why I will not do so. Apparently, it is because you once helped me well in the matter of the bishopric. I cannot raise my hand against anyone who has ever done me a favor; such ingratitude causes me an organic disgust. Therefore, I will not physically hinder you; do what you consider necessary. If you have decided to perish instead of rising to an unprecedented height, perish! But remember that what you have planned will raise your enemies to the pinnacle of power, and will turn to dust not only you, but also your friends.”
- I am sorry for that, Monsieur d'Herblay! - answered Fouquet. - In thinking of the King, I did not think of you and my other friends and yours! Of course, you are right. I must give you the opportunity to escape. Go immediately to Belle- Ile! It is so fortified that the King will not be able to take it. Take refuge there, and take Monsieur du Valon with you. Take all the diamonds you find in my secretary, they are yours, and I need nothing more!
"If your mind were as cold as your heart is hot, you would be a very great man!" cried Aramis. "What might not we achieve together!"
“I don’t strive to be great,” Fouquet lied.
"But what about the inscription on your coat of arms?" asked Aramis with disdain. "It says: 'Where I won't climb!' You misled me with that motto."
“If I had known beforehand that he was so scrupulous, I would not have done anything to save him,” thought Aramis. “It would have been better to wait for the arrest of this nonentity and decide my affairs without regard for him. But what can I do, Fate has presented such a convenient opportunity! It would have been a sin not to take advantage of it. In any case, I should not have initiated him into my secret! I am a fool!”
"Only a short time ago I saw the sense in that motto," replied Fouquet. "But not today, not now. At this moment I would rather be a beggar and ask for alms on the steps of a church than bear the heavy burden of shame for betraying my King at the moment when he trusted me and was a guest in my house."
"It's in vain that you don't want to think for a minute, to evaluate the whole situation. I don't understand your stubbornness," Aramis said wearily.
“It’s not stubbornness, it’s a principle, it’s my way of thinking and my rule of life, ” Fouquet replied.
“The world we all live in is not fit for such noble men as you,” replied Aramis. “I should have used violence against you and forced you to do for me everything I had planned to do. After a while you would have realized your error and thanked me. But to use violence against you is like putting a tender angel in iron chains. You will have your chains, no doubt, but not from me. I wash my hands of it!”
"I have my faults, I know them, and I'm not trying to improve them, but you've encroached on those principles of mine that are beyond doubt for me," Fouquet continued, not paying attention to the fact that Aramis was no longer trying to convince him. "I can't sacrifice the King's well-being to my own.
"In that case you will be sacrificed to the whims, jealousies and caprices of that very King for whom you are so anxious, my dear madman!" said Aramis sadly.
"I am prepared for it," Fouquet replied proudly. "I give you four hours for you and du Valon to leave the castle of Vaux. This time is sufficient not only to escape any pursuit and safely reach the fortress of Belle-Ile, but even to leave France."
“Well, I could stop you by force,” Aramis reminded him again. “And you would certainly be grateful to me for it later. But I do not wish to do so. It is astonishing! Although tying you up and locking you up in your own house until you come to your senses would not only be the easiest way out for me and for you, but would also be very useful for the realization of my future plans. And to let you go would mean for me exile from France forever, and, moreover, mortal danger for me and for my friend du Valon! But I do not wish to stop you, it is stupid and illogical, but such is my caprice. I am letting go of the thread of Fate, which I have so firmly grasped with my own hands, and let it unwind wherever it pleases. Let us see how the Lord will dispose of these threads! And then we will see which of us was right.”
"Save your philosophical reflections for calmer times, and now to business!" Fouquet objected. "The four hours I gave you have already begun, and you have less and less time left! I am going to get ready for the journey, after which I will go to Paris to rescue my King from the Bastille.
With these words Fouquet left.
"The reason is that I am pursuing my own plans," said Aramis sadly. "If we were acting according to our common plan, mine and Athos's, Porthos's and d'Artagnan's, I would brush this worthless romantic out of my way as I brush dust from my sleeve. But without this moral support of our holy alliance, I yield to such absurd arguments as the hospitality of the superintendent, or his false notions of the duty of a loyal subject. While recognizing the equal rights of the two princes, he is still prepared to resign himself to the fact that the one who has languished in the Bastille for too long will be locked up there, but he cannot resign himself to the fact that the one who belongs there will only spend a few hours there. A miserable little man, governed by false notions of honor. He will certainly end up in the Bastille, and God is my witness that I would not lift a finger to get him out of there, even if I had the chance. This man is no more for me.

XIV. The Forgotten Prince

Aramis's first impulse was to go to Porthos and ride at once, as fast as he could, to the fortress of Belle- Ile, and perhaps beyond France. Aramis had a very strong position in Spain, and he could do well there with Porthos. But Aramis suddenly remembered that he had forgotten all about the fate of the unfortunate Prince Philip.
“If Porthos and I go away and leave him alone on the throne,” he said to himself, “it will be an extremely wrong move.”
But Aramis was not concerned with the ethical side of the matter, as our readers might think, but with the political one.
"How will events develop here, in the Ch;teau de Vaux and in all of France, if I leave now?" Aramis asked himself. "Until Fouquet brings Louis back, Philippe is the King for everyone. He can sign orders, decide destinies, even declare war! Of course, the returning Louis will cancel all these orders, but not every order can be canceled. Although gifts and favors can be canceled, a prisoner imprisoned in the Bastille can be released, but, for example, an executed person cannot be revived by any orders from the King, a declared war cannot be stopped with a single stroke of the pen! If I entrust France to a man who was supposed to act on my advice, and I myself disappear, what will this still all-powerful prince do, who does not even suspect that he can soon be returned back to the Bastille, or even executed? And why am I so sure that Fouquet will be able to bring Louis back? Besmo, who is devoted to me, would rather lock Fouquet in the Bastille than release at his request a prisoner whom he knows to be guilty of the greatest crime of treason, for he thinks that he is nothing but an unfortunate madman, who by chance resembles the King, who imagines himself to be the King, and therefore must be kept in the Bastille most secretly, who must not be released, for the release of such a man would mean for Besmo disobedience to the King, the death penalty for treason against France! Fouquet will try in vain to bring Louis back, but of course he will fail! And yet I must not take risks. If I have succeeded, Fouquet may succeed too, for it seems to me that today is not my day, and fate may send Fouquet unexpected help from a side of which I do not suspect. After all, I must not worry too much about Philippe's fate. In any case, he is a prince of the blood, and most likely he will not face the death penalty, which cannot be said about me and Porthos. Yes, Louis will not execute Philippe, if only because their common mother, Queen Anne, will not allow it! If Fouquet returns Louis, he himself will end up in the Bastille in his place, and Philippe will be locked up there too. Then the best place for me is Spain. If Fouquet fails, then I can slowly return to Philippe, and explain my absence by the urgent need for some urgent negotiations with a future ally of France. I was in Spain, taking care of the strengthening of Philippe's throne, I solved his problems, I was at his service. In addition, I trust him so much that I allowed him to make decisions independently, governing France as King. Will this not justify me in his eyes? It should also not be forgotten that my too rapid rise, my too frequent visits to Philippe, may catch the eye of someone too observant. Someone like d'Artagnan. Yes, indeed, there are no others like him, but he alone is enough. Even now I feel the cold sweat running down my back again, when I recall the look with which d'Artagnan looked at me when he asked how long I had been friends with the King. Fortunately, he did not suspect anything. But he may guess if I appear too often in Philippe's chambers. I am right, we must leave. Whatever one may say, Porthos and I belong in the fortress of Belle- Ile, or even in Spain. So, on our way."
After these reflections, Aramis resolutely set out to find Porthos, with the intention of leaving the Ch;teau de Vaux immediately.
As he approached Porthos's room, Aramis heard a deafening, even snore. The good-natured giant was sleeping soundly, the sleep of the just, which nothing prevented him from feeling. The brave musketeer already saw himself in his thoughts and dreams as a duke and a peer, a man who had personally served the King and was caressed by him in every possible way. Envious neighbors hurried to him with low bows of congratulations, but he only replied: "Come on, gentlemen! What is the point of these ceremonies, after all, we are neighbors! However, later, gentlemen, not now! I am in a hurry to the King for dinner!" And the neighbors bowed even lower than before.
In the very middle of this dream, the King appeared in him, who, for some reason, in the voice of Aramis, said: "Wake up at last, Porthos! We must hurry!"
Porthos rubbed his eyes and saw Aramis in front of him, who sighed and said:
- Good God! How soundly you sleep, Porthos! It's time to wake up, we're in a hurry.
"Why shouldn't I sleep when we've been driving all night! It's tiring, you know!" Porthos burst out laughing.
"Our next trip will take place right now, but we will not travel in a carriage, but on horseback. On our way, Porthos!" Aramis answered decisively, from which Porthos understood that he was not joking.
“We won’t even have something to eat before the journey?” he asked sadly.
“We’ll have some refreshment on the way, or better yet, when we arrive at our destination,” Aramis replied.
- I understand! Are we going to have breakfast with the King? - Porthos winked happily, not even bothering to wonder why they had to go somewhere for breakfast with the King, if the King himself was nearby, in the castle of Vaux.
“Not at once, and not quite in the form you suppose, but some adventures certainly await us,” replied Aramis, vainly feigning sincerity on his thin face.
"Adventures are even better than breakfast at the King's!" exclaimed Porthos, adding, "Still, it wouldn't hurt to have some refreshment for the journey."
“We are riding on your horses, and their saddles are already equipped with travel bags containing smoked hams, cheese, bread and Burgundy wine,” Aramis said.
" And loaded muskets, as always?" Porthos inquired. "With such equipment we will go all the way to England!"
“It may be necessary to do so… We shall have to gallop for a long time,” replied Aramis, who had realized in time that until they had set out, it was not advisable to tell Porthos the final destination of the journey. “So, off we go!”
“Let’s hug d’Artagnan before the journey and be on our way,” answered Porthos.
"My God, what delays! Of the four hours Fouquet gave us, there are only a little more than three left," thought Aramis. "But Porthos is right. We must embrace d'Artagnan, since it may well be that we will never have another such opportunity. We must say goodbye."
At that very moment d'Artagnan appeared at the door.
"I am glad to see you in good health, my friends!" he cried. "Fortune has smiled upon you, Aramis, and you are shedding her light upon our dear Porthos. How charming! Since Porthos's horses stand saddled, with provisions and muskets in the saddle, I suppose you are in a hurry to carry out one of the King's most important commissions?"
- You have guessed, d'Artagnan! - Porthos exclaimed joyfully. - Will you come with us, like in the good old days?
"We are, indeed, in a great hurry, and our mission does not require companions, even those so dear to our hearts as d'Artagnan," Aramis replied coldly. "However, this does not prevent us from embracing before parting. Porthos and I wish you happiness, and you wish us a happy journey."
The friends hugged and exchanged heartfelt wishes before parting.
“How wonderful that we are all together and all in one accord!” Porthos was touched, to which Aramis merely shrugged his shoulders, while d’Artagnan looked intently into Aramis’s eyes, after which he nodded to Porthos with an ironic smile.
"It couldn't be otherwise, could it, Aramis?" he replied, and then added, "I see you're in a hurry. Don't waste your precious time."
Porthos and Aramis moved towards the stables, and d'Artagnan said to himself: "Strange things are happening. I was already sure that Aramis had succeeded in substituting the King for his twin brother, but it seems that Aramis is in too great a hurry to get as far away from the King as possible, taking Porthos with him. As for our giant, he obeys Aramis in everything, who has probably promised him a dukedom. But it is extremely inconsistent for Aramis to distance himself from his protege at the very moment when they are so indispensable to each other, the Prince needs Aramis to give him valuable advice, and Aramis needs the Prince to carry out his endless intrigues in an endless desire to seize as much power as possible. Apparently, Aramis's plan has failed, or may fail very soon. Aramis has the greatest sense of danger. "Not for nothing did he advise shooting Mordaunt when we had no reason to do so! This man will not burn in fire or drown in water. Aramis running away is capable of causing even me to worry. I'll go and look at the King. Aramis has gone, no one will stop me at the doors of His Majesty's chamber."
And d'Artagnan slowly headed towards the King's chambers.
At that very moment, Philippe had just dressed and finished his breakfast. He had not yet received anyone when d'Artagnan ordered the footman to announce himself. As captain of the king's musketeers, that is, in fact, the King's personal bodyguard, he could, if necessary, enter without being announced, but only in extreme cases. However, court etiquette did not apply to him, and he could visit the King even when the doors for audience were not yet open to anyone, including even members of the royal family.
“Ah, d’Artagnan, come in,” Philippe addressed him, causing the cunning Gascon, who had expected to see an impostor on the throne, to shudder.
"Have I made a mistake, and is the King still in his place?" he asked himself. "Have my reasoning led me to erroneous conclusions?"
“Good morning, Your Majesty,” he replied, bowing low to the King’s hand.
"Tell me, d'Artagnan, where has your friend, the Bishop of Vannes, disappeared to?" asked the King in a casual tone, which nevertheless could not hide from the captain of the musketeers his intense interest in the answer.
“It seemed to me that you, Your Majesty, sent him on some important errand,” replied d’Artagnan. “He was in a great hurry to leave.”
“That’s right, I just forgot!” exclaimed the King.
"He's justifying himself to me, he's not the King," thought d'Artagnan. "But I mustn't make a mistake! I'll try the last resort."
"Allow me to ask, Your Majesty, what is your opinion of the feast given at the Ch;teau de Vaux by Monsieur Superintendent Fouquet? Yesterday, I believe, you were pleased to remark that the feast was a great success?" said d'Artagnan, emphasizing the last four words. "Will you say the same about this feast today?"
"I have nothing to add to my words, Captain, other than what I already said yesterday. The reception given by Monsieur Fouquet is truly magnificent, and I intend to thank him," replied the King. "I have not yet chosen a specific way to show my gratitude, but I am already thinking about it."
"It's not him," thought d'Artagnan. "There's no doubt the King has been replaced!"
"The Bishop of Vannes will no doubt advise your Majesty when and how it would be best to reward Monsieur Fouquet," replied d'Artagnan with a bow. "Especially for the important service he rendered to your Majesty yesterday evening at the fountain. After all, it was this that prompted this morning's order, I suppose?"
“You are right, captain, but how to reward Fouquet, I will decide for myself, it is my business,” answered the King.
“I will try to find him and send him to you as soon as he returns, Your Majesty,” said d’Artagnan.
“Very well, Monsieur d’Artagnan, I entrust this to you,” the False King rejoiced. “Go then and carry out my instructions.”
“Yes, Your Majesty,” replied d’Artagnan and bowed and left.
“Not only have I guessed that it is not the King, I have also found a way to prove it to myself once and for all!” thought d’Artagnan. “I can hardly, but I can still admit that the King could forget about his intention to arrest Fouquet. I can imagine with even greater difficulty that the King could turn into a friend of Aramis overnight. But for the King to confirm an event that did not happen – that is simply impossible! Fouquet did not render any service “in the evening at the fountain”, since the King did not go near any fountain the entire evening, and especially did not see Fouquet there! If it were Louis, he would be surprised at what nonsense I was talking about some service at the fountain last night! But this one pretended to understand what I was talking about. He is afraid of giving himself away, so he does not deny something about which he is not sure whether it happened or not. Ah, Aramis, Aramis! What a dangerous game you have started!” “And how can I now combine friendship and loyalty?”

XV. The False King on the Throne

After Philippe had begun to receive visitors, almost nothing had marred him or caused him to be alarmed. He behaved exactly as Aramis had taught him, which enabled him not to arouse the slightest doubt in those around him that the same man who had been on the throne the day before and during all the previous years of Louis XIV's reign was still on it. Even the Queen Mother suspected nothing, although she showed a little alarm at Philippe's voice, or rather at some intonations that were still subtly, perhaps, different from Louis's. Philippe referred to the fact that he had been slightly chilled the day before, but nothing terrible had happened, his throat no longer hurts.
“I will send a physician to you, Your Majesty,” said the Queen Mother.
“It’s really not worth it, mother, I’m already quite healthy,” Philip answered, and saw that the Queen had completely calmed down.
"Even if she guesses something, she will not betray me," thought Philip, who with mixed feelings of love, anxiety and resentment looked at the Queen, recalling that fleeting meeting that remained in his memory. In the distant past, he saw this woman, when he was still a child, and she was much younger. And yet he recognized her. Then she looked at him with mixed feelings of love and pity, but now her gaze expressed only calm and peace.
On this first day of the reign stolen by Philip from Louis, all the King's relatives were present at the audience, except for his wife, Maria Theresa, which made Philip sigh with relief: he had hardly seen women, except for two women, the nurse and mistress of the house, the Queen Mother, and that unusually beautiful and sweet girl whom he had met several times by chance while he was still not in the Bastille. He had first met her when she was still a girl.
Philip remembered this meeting as if it had happened a week ago.
His wet nurse, nanny and governess, Madame Onchamp, was a tall woman who wore a black dress with long, hanging sleeves trimmed with lace. On her head she wore a velvet hood. When Philippe saw the canon much later, he thought he was dressed almost exactly like his wet nurse. They were temporarily staying in the house of her distant relative, Madame Goton.
When Philippe, still a small boy, lived under the care of Madame Onchamp in the house of Madame Goton, which stood in such a remote place that no one ever came to visit them, one day something strange happened. Nearby, where the road passed, a carriage apparently broke down. In the carriage was an unknown noble girl with her governess. The girl was about the same age as Philippe then. At first, Philippe saw only the girl, who apparently decided to take a walk in the forest, and suddenly discovered this house where Philippe lived in the almost dense forest. She saw Philippe and boldly approached him, clearly intending to get acquainted.
Suddenly, an adult lady ran out of the forest and began screaming in horror:
- Mademoiselle de Gramont! Come back! You can't go there!
Madame Onshan cried out in horror:
- Mademoiselle de Gramont!
After that, she grabbed Philip by the hand and pulled him towards the house. At the same time, she tried to cover Philip's face from the unexpected guest.
Meanwhile, the unfamiliar girl screamed:
- Dear Madame Goton! It's me, Catherine-Charlotte! I came to drink milk and eat eggs!
The girl's voice rang like a heavenly bell, and Philip felt a sweet shiver throughout his body from this voice. He didn't want to go into the house, he wanted to stay longer with this girl, so he said:
- Milk! She's talking about milk! But I'm hungry, I want milk too. And I want eggs. Madame Goton, bring us milk and eggs!
But Madame Onchan was inexorable, she said to Philippe:
- Let's go, sir, now is not the time for you to stay here.
Madame Goton also tried to reason with him.
“Sir, I beg you, go into the house quickly,” she said.
Philip had never seen her so scared before. She tried to drag Philip into the house by force, but it was the custom that force was almost never used with Philip, and only persuasion was used.
The girl turned out to be not only beautiful, but also brave. Although she clearly understood that the grown-up ladies – both Madame Goton and the girl’s governess, who ran out of the forest after her – both did not want the children to meet. Perhaps that was why she boldly approached Philip and asked:
— What is your name?
“My name is Louis Philippe,” Philippe replied.
“And then?” asked Mademoiselle de Gramont.
- Further? - Philip was surprised. - That's all. Isn't that enough?
“Only the King’s name is simply Louis,” the girl objected boldly, “and you are clearly not the King!”
Hearing the word "King", Madame Onshan threw up her hands, jumped up to Philippe in horror, picked him up and ran into the house. At the same time, Philippe felt that she was so scared, as if a pack of wolves were chasing them.
But the girl stubbornly refused to leave, demanding to be let into the house, while Philip himself suddenly decided to rebel, something that had never happened to him before. He also demanded to be allowed to meet this girl.
All three ladies were clearly frightened.
Finally, Madame Onchan announced to Philippe:
“You will have the milk, sir, provided that we all drink it in the lower hall, and that you behave quietly enough so as not to attract new guests here.
“I promise!” Philippe and Mademoiselle de Gramont said almost in unison.
This is how I first met this girl.
It turned out to be a tragedy for Philippe. Apparently, those who had ordered him to be kept away from people somehow learned that his privacy had been violated. Philippe was transferred to another place, more secluded and closed from people's eyes. He never saw Madame Onshan and Madame Goton again, and he suspected that something very bad had happened to them.
After that, fate gave him two more chance encounters with this girl, but by this time she had already become a beautiful young woman. And although these two meetings made a stronger impression on him, now for some reason he remembered their first chance and fateful meeting in the forest hut.
“What are you thinking about, my son?” the Queen Mother asked tenderly.
“I thought, however, it’s nonsense, nothing, about nothing,” Philip answered absentmindedly. “Why don’t I see here…”
"Mademoiselle de La Valli;re?" the Queen Mother asked haughtily.
“No, what are you saying, mother!” Philip was surprised.
"The Queen, as you know, is somewhat ill, and you yourself have excused her from today's audience," the Queen Mother continued, less coldly. "However, your desire to see her will probably heal her, for she is your lawful spouse before God and before men, and it seems that a little more attention to her on your part would heal her completely. Shouldn't Her Majesty Maria Theresa be called?"
“Let her rest and recover,” Philip answered quickly.
The Queen Mother bowed with dignity.
Meanwhile, Philippe was looking at his younger brother, the Duke of Orleans, who was also named Philippe. He thought that this brother, who had not taken away his freedom or his crown, was worthy of his brotherly love and protection. Philippe did not realize at that moment that Louis had not taken anything away from him either, for the simple reason that he simply did not know of his existence. Those who had taken away his destiny as a prince and a king were already dead, except for the Queen Mother, who could do nothing about it, and, apparently, suffered from this injustice towards her son no less than Philippe himself, and perhaps even more, since mental torment is many times worse than physical torment.
Philippe decided that he would love all his relatives and would not hold a grudge against any of them. He smiled kindly at the Duke of Orleans, nodded to his wife Princess Henrietta, nicknamed Minette, and waved his hand, indicating that the reception was over.
When everyone had gone out, Philippe turned to the Duke of Orleans:
- My brother, please stay a little longer!
“I am entirely at your disposal, Your Majesty,” the Duke replied with surprise.
"Tell me, my brother," Philippe said softly, "Mademoiselle de Gramont. How is she?"
“Are you talking about the Princess of Monaco?” the Duke was surprised.
“So she’s married,” Philip said sadly and somewhat disappointedly.
“If you are interested in this person, Your Majesty, then the fact of her marriage means nothing, does not interfere with anything, and even more,” replied the Duke of Orleans. “But why do you ask me about her and not the Count de Guiche? I understand that you do not want to involve her brother in your relations. Well, that is quite clever. But it seems to me that de Guiche is not the kind of person who would interfere with you in such adventures. Besides, perhaps it is high time for him to settle down and take care of his King’s affairs, rather than looking at the wife of the King’s brother, is that not so?”
"My dear brother, I am a little out of sorts today," Philippe replied. "Forgive me for asking such stupid questions, I am asking you about what I could easily have learned from de Guiche, I am simply a little overtired from these festivities. I beg you not to tell anyone about our conversation."
“Of course, Your Majesty!” replied the Duke of Orleans, thinking to himself that he had an interesting topic for an evening conversation with his wife.
Naive Philippe thought that such promises were worth something. If he wanted his brother to keep everything to himself, the worst way was to ask him to keep it a secret. It would have been much more effective to ask him to inform all the courtiers about this conversation. After all, the Duke of Orleans would have regarded such an assignment as an obligation, and he loved to shirk any obligation, while a promise to keep a secret caused an unbearable desire to divulge it to the first person he met in confidence.
The Duke of Orleans bowed and withdrew, and Philippe was left alone, and all his thoughts were on the fact that Mademoiselle de Gramont was married and was now called the Princess of Monaco, and her brother, the Count de Guiche, was somewhere at court and was probably listed as one of the King's friends, that is, he would now be his, Philippe's, friend. In his head sounded the Duke's phrase: "The fact of her marriage means nothing, does not interfere with anything, and even more." He was not entirely sure that he fully understood the meaning of this phrase, but he thought that he interpreted it quite correctly.
Let me remind our readers of the relations that already reigned at court by that time.
Count de Guiche, the son of Marshal de Gramont, was one of the closest friends of the King's brother, the Duke of Orleans. Their friendship reached such a level that Monsieur preferred communication with the Count even to communication with his own wife, and in almost every sense. At the same time, de Guiche himself was very interested not only in communication with Monsieur, but even more - in communication with his young wife, Queen Henrietta, sister of the current King of England Henry II. At that time, Monsieur was not yet jealous of his wife for his friend, and Henrietta herself did not take de Guiche's courtship seriously, so the relationship within this trio was not overshadowed by anything. Another friend of this married couple was Count de Wardes. In him, too, Monsieur had boundless confidence, and he also managed to render small services to Queen Henrietta, that is, to Madame, so that he too was part of the narrow circle of friends, which was almost a family. Between the Count de Guiche and the Count de Wardes, too, the closest friendship was established, with the only difference that de Guiche considered it a natural relationship between people who have nothing to divide, while de Wardes considered it a screen, under cover of which he sought an opportunity to quarrel with de Guiche and Monsieur and Madame, and, perhaps, to quarrel Madame and Monsieur with each other, with the aim of being indispensable to them all as an intermediary for reconciliation, and also to achieve de Guiche's removal, after which he could begin to attack Madame in order to obtain from her all those favors that are supposed to be given only to a legitimate spouse.
De Guiche's sister, Catherine-Charlotte de Gramont, had recently married Count Louis I Valentinois of the Grimaldi family, Prince of Monaco. She thus became the Princess of Monaco. It was she who had met Philippe by chance in the forest. Now, after a short stay in Monaco, she had returned to Paris and was once again Madame's lady-in-waiting and her bosom friend. So the Gramont brother and sister were an unofficial part of the family of the Duke and Duchess of Orleans, the idyll would have been complete if de Guiche had not sought to become Madame's lover, and de Wardes had not sought the same thing through all sorts of intrigues, convincing everyone of his friendly help and sympathy, and doing all sorts of dirty tricks, small and large, to everyone and everyone, with the goal of quarreling everyone, arranging circumstances so that the secrets he possessed ceased to be secrets as if by accident, and at the most inopportune moment, so that everything would be interpreted in a way that was advantageous to him, so that he could then achieve what he wanted in the role of peacemaker.
In this murky atmosphere of intrigue Philippe found himself with his inappropriate love for the Princess of Monaco, which could not bode well for him, despite Monsieur's assurance that the King could do whatever he wanted at his court and that the fact of marriage did not interfere with anything. After all, only experienced and skillful courtiers could neglect such facts, who could hide their gallant adventures so well and even present their successes in such a way in case of exposure that they came out dry. In this environment of marital rights and duties trampled upon by everyone, even the King had to remain outwardly decent, he could not allow himself to look ridiculous or unsuccessful, and even in his obvious victories there had to be some reticence that would allow him to continue to call by the title of "mademoiselle" the lady who had been pregnant three times from the King's extraordinary attentions, giving him two children as a result of the first two pregnancies. Philip had yet to find out, for none of the books he had read before had taught him anything about this complex, gallant relationship in which innocence was laughed at, depravity envied, but family values were sanctimoniously glorified.

XVI. Commandant of the Bastille de Bezmo

The superintendent of finances, the former king's prosecutor, Monsieur Fouquet, was racing as fast as he could to Paris, to the Bastille, seemingly not caring at all about the horses or the carriage. He would have liked his horses to have wings, like the mythical Pegasus, and to carry him and the carriage through the air. Although the four hours' delay promised to Aramis should have seemed to make him take his time, the thought that the King of France was languishing in the Bastille like some kind of criminal spurred him on so much that it seemed to him that both his horse and he himself were sprouting wings.
At the same time, due to impatience, he was angry both with himself and with the horses, since at the same time it seemed to him that he was not going fast enough.
“How incredible in their strength, determination, and luck are these mysterious Musketeers, these four, the stories of whose adventures never cease to circulate in France!” thought Fouquet. “They decide the fate of Kings as if they were simple chessmen, and yet they remain in the humble shadow, in obscurity, and sometimes even in poverty, if we compare their fortune with what they could have acquired if they had spent all their energy only on enrichment! Titans! Demigods! How great I thought myself, and how small I, the great Fouquet, turned out to be in comparison with the Bishop of Vannes, an ex-Musketeer, who rearranges the princes so that no one suspects it! What a great plan! What filigree execution! If only this had not happened in my house!” "How strong were these extraordinary men in their youth, that even now, almost forty years later, having reached the age when ordinary people become ordinary decrepit old men, they remain titans, capable of making such grandiose plans and carrying them out without blinking an eye? Even the King of France pales before them! Even Cardinal Mazarin! Only the great Richelieu could compare with Monsieur d'Herblay in his determination, intelligence, fortitude! And yet they say that Monsieur d'Herblay is inferior in many ways to Monsieur d'Artagnan. And I am ready to believe this, although I have only recently known him, and not so deeply, but what I have noticed in him convinces me that this is really so!"
Finally, Fouquet reached the gates of the Bastille. But how could he extract the King? He was in such a hurry that he hadn’t even thought about it! The whole time he was rushing towards the Bastille, it seemed to him that the main thing was to get to the gates of the fortress! And yet he had enough time to think about how to act next!
And only then did he realize how insignificant he really was in comparison with Monsieur d'Herblay! He had said haughtily to Aramis: "I will give you four hours to save yourself!" Only now did he realize that it was Monsieur d'Herblay who continued to control the situation, and he had every right to say: "I will give you the chance to save the King, if that is what you want, and I will retire to a place where neither you nor your miserable King can reach me!"
If Monsieur d'Herblay had ordered Fouquet's arrest, his order would have been carried out. For the Bishop of Vannes held the order to cancel Fouquet's arrest, and the order to arrest him remained in the hands of his friend, the captain of the Musketeers, d'Artagnan! Either of these two men could easily decide Fouquet's fate - either tear up the order to arrest him, giving him his freedom, or tear up the order to cancel the arrest, putting him in the Bastille, or destroy both orders, leaving Fouquet in trepidation, in complete uncertainty, awaiting his fate. They could not fear the wrath of the King, since on the throne sat the obedient pupil of the Bishop of Vannes, who, of course, would not allow any harm to come to the captain of the Musketeers, and the captain could, with the help of his Musketeers, arrest both the Bishop and his False King, for it was impossible that he did not know of Monsieur d'Herblay's plans! If these two were in a common conspiracy, they had Fouquet, the King, and all of France in their hands! And he, Fouquet, imagined that he could just go to the Bastille, go inside, and free the King! He imagined that he was showing mercy to the Bishop of Vannes, when it was the Bishop of Vannes who, for some unknown reason, showed mercy to both Fouquet and the King locked up in the Bastille. Incomprehensible people!
In despair, Fouquet began knocking on the gates of the Bastille.
These gates, which, of course, would have opened immediately for Aramis, and would have opened, if not so quickly, then quite quickly for d'Artagnan, these same gates did not even think of opening for the superintendent of finance.
Fouquet, after endless persuasion, threats and insistence, was finally able to get the guard to promise to report him to the major in charge of the guard. There was no question of getting through to the commandant. General Marquis de Besmo was too important a person to condescend to some visitors who did not have an order from His Majesty in hand.
Fouquet looked with hatred at the closed gates of the Bastille, wanting at all costs to get inside. He waited for an answer from the major, not realizing that soon his desire to get into the Bastille might come true in circumstances that did not seem justified to him. He did not yet realize that sitting in his own carriage in front of the gates of the Bastille, but outside it, was much more pleasant than sitting inside the Bastille without any hope of ever getting out.
Finally, a guard came out of the guardhouse.
- Well, what then? - Fouquet asked impatiently, - Did you see the major? What did he order? Of course, he ordered me to be let in?
“No, sir, you are mistaken,” replied the sergeant. “It is well for you that he did not order you to be sent away. Our major simply laughed and said that Monsieur Fouquet was now at his castle of Vaux -le -Vicomte, receiving the King and his suite. And even if Monsieur Fouquet, by some strange circumstances, were to be in Paris today, he would not have risen so early. And if he had come to the Bastille, he would have had the necessary papers with him, which you, sir, do not have. Therefore, he called you an impostor and suggested that you should go back to where you came from as soon as possible, but if you wish to sit here in the carriage and claim to be Monsieur Fouquet, we will not hinder you; that is the kindness of our major.” He said that we are not responsible for what happens outside the walls of the Bastille, our part of responsibility is only these walls and everything that is inside these walls, and what is outside does not concern us. You can call yourself the Pope.
- Damn it! You blockheads! This is the Attorney General of France! Let me in at once! - shouted Fouquet, hoping that the news had not yet reached them that this position no longer belonged to him.
- Understand us too, sir! - answered the guard. - Could you not present any documents confirming your words?
"You must know your superiors by sight!" Fouquet exclaimed angrily.
- This is the Bastille, sir! We obey not persons, but documents. Do you have an order from the King? Or an order from the Minister? Or an order from the Attorney General? - asked the guard.
“Let me in and I will give you the document you need!” Fouquet replied.
“If you have a document, show it and we will let you through,” was the answer.
- You idiot! I will draw up this document myself, just give me a table, paper, pen and ink! - Fouquet continued to rage.
"Perhaps we could let you into the guardroom and give you what you ask for," the guard said hesitantly, looking meaningfully at Fouquet's hands, which still had diamond rings on them. "But I'm not sure that's possible. Perhaps not, sir, I won't be able to do that."
"I ask you for this favor, and besides..." Fouquet finally realized that he still had some means of influencing these people. "I really want some tea. Can I ask you to give me a cup of tea and can you show me such hospitality?"
“This is not an inn, sir,” the guard answered more softly, without taking his eyes off the rings.
- But that's not forbidden, is it? The guardroom is completely at your disposal, isn't it? Listen, I'm hungry, finally, and I want to ask you as a great favor to treat me to a cup of tea and a piece of bread, and for that I offer you this diamond of pure water, - with these words Fouquet took the ring with the largest diamond from his finger.
“The Lord commanded us to share bread with the suffering,” the guard answered almost confidently. “God’s command…”
“The command of God is no less important than the command of the King, my dear,” replied Fouquet. “In the Gospel of Matthew it is said: ‘For I was an hungred, and ye gave me meat: I was thirsty, and ye gave me drink: I was a stranger, and ye took me in: Naked, and ye clothed me: I was sick, and ye visited me: I was in prison, and ye came unto me.’ And further: ‘Truly I say unto you: Inasmuch as ye did it unto one of the least of these my brethren, ye did it unto me.’ And also in the Proverbs of Solomon it is said: ‘If any man hunger, feed him bread: and if he thirst, give him water to drink.’” And then he added: ‘If he need paper and ink, give them to him.’
At these last words Fouquet, taking the guard's right hand with his left hand, placed the said ring in it with his right hand, after which he closed the guard's palm and patted it approvingly with his own. He hoped that the added phrase about paper and ink would be considered true, since it was hardly to be expected that a guard of the Bastille was familiar with the text of the Proverbs of Solomon word for word. But Fouquet placed even greater hopes in the power of the diamond ring. And it worked. If, for a glass of tea, a piece of bread and a sheet of paper, you are offered a ring worth as much as a good house in the center of Paris, and at the same time this action is supported by a quotation from the Bible, it is very difficult not to agree that the quotation is accurate and best supports the validity of the transaction.
“Follow me, sir,” replied the guard, opening the doors of the guardroom.
Entering the room, Fouquet impatiently grabbed paper and pen, and began to write:

"Order to the commandant of the Bastille, Mr. General de Bezmo.
Release immediately the prisoner who was brought to the Bastille this night.
Prosecutor General of France
Fouquet"

Having signed his name, Fouquet handed the document to the guard, who took it with the words:
“I must show this to the major first,” the guard replied.
With these words he left, locking the door behind him and leaving Fouquet alone with his thoughts. In his absentmindedness Fouquet put his hands in his pockets and found there a purse he had completely forgotten about.
“We could have done with a smaller sum,” he thought. “However, who cares about that now? If only we could free His Majesty!”
Five minutes later the doors opened and the major entered the room. Looking at Fouquet, he cried out:
- Monseigneur! Is it really you? Ah, Monseigneur, who would have thought! Let's go to Monsieur de Besmo!
Fouquet stood up proudly, cast a contemptuous glance at the guard and followed the major.
“Your tea, monsignor…” the guard muttered.
“Drink it yourself!” Fouquet replied contemptuously.
That evening, the dinner of the guard who ate it instead of Fouquet cost half a million livres, although it was not the guard who paid for it, but the superintendent of finance, Monsieur Fouquet, himself.
De Bezmo, who did not yet know about the sale of the position of Attorney General, stood at attention in front of Fouquet.
- Monseigneur! - he exclaimed. - A thousand pardons! At such a time? What a surprise!
"Sir," said the superintendent with annoyance, "I congratulate you! Your guards know their duty and perform it impeccably!"
De Besmo turned pale, correctly recognizing the irony and displeasure in Fouquet's tone.
But Fouquet threw a heavy purse of gold onto de Bezmo's table.
"Twenty pistoles for all the guards," he ordered, "fifty pistoles for the sergeant, one hundred pistoles for the major. Thank you for your service, gentlemen. I will report to His Majesty that he can rely on you. Expect promotion. And now leave us, major, I must speak with Monsieur de Besmo."
De Bezmo nodded in confirmation of Fouquet's order, the major hesitantly extended his hand towards the purse, but, looking into de Bezmo's eyes, he stretched his arms out at his sides, clicked his heels and left.
“Monsieur Commandant,” began Fouquet, “I have come to you about the prisoner whom Monsieur d’Herblay brought to you last night.
“Monseigneur, you have been misinformed,” Bezmo replied hesitantly, “no prisoners have been delivered to the Bastille tonight, or this week, or this month.”
"Beware, Monsieur de Besmo!" cried Fouquet. "You dare to lie to the Attorney General of France!"
“I would not dare to lie even to a simple musketeer if he brought documents confirming that I am obliged to give him an account of the prisoners in the fortress entrusted to me,” answered de Bezmo, realizing that he should not admit the arrival of the prisoner, since in this case he would have to admit his own oversight, which Fouquet simply could not prove, so he should simply deny it and go on with it to the very end.
And although Bezmo's voice trembled, his gaze was firm and his intentions unwavering. He remembered the words of the Bishop of Vannes: "You have released the wrong man by mistake. You simply return the one you released by mistake to his former place, and release the one you should have released! We both forget about this unfortunate misfortune, and your life will continue to flow exactly as it has flowed until now, that is, serenely, calmly and joyfully. You remain the commandant of the Bastille, and what is more, you keep your head on your shoulders."
For an hour after that, Bezmo pondered the situation. A few days ago, he had mistakenly released Marchiali following the order to release Seldon. That night, the Bishop of Vannes brought Marchiali back and persuaded Bezmo to read the order more carefully, which clearly stated that it was Seldon who should be released. That same night, Seldon was released, and Marchiali was returned to his former place. Thus, if we are to believe the Bishop of Vannes, no one knows that Marchiali was free instead of Seldon for two days. This version should be followed to the end. According to Bezmo's documents, everything is in order: two days ago, one prisoner was released, the order for release is available, everything is correct in the records, for this it was necessary to tear out an entire page from the journal and rewrite it anew, replacing the entry about Marchiali's release with the entry about Seldon's release.
- Monsieur de Besmo! - said Fouquet in a firm voice. - Since you are lying, from this moment I am forced to suspect you of being an accomplice to the greatest crime! In this case, I will not cut off your head, I promise you!
"This is the second time in twenty-four hours that I have been threatened with losing my head," Bezmo thought in fear, "but the Bishop of Vannes is also the Master of the Order. His threats mean immeasurably more. In addition, all his demands were backed up by the corresponding orders of the King with the seal of the Chancellor, while Fouquet, although Fouquet, is still Fouquet, compared to the King, he is only Fouquet. If I act in accordance with the instructions received from the General of the Order, my head will have a better chance of not parting with the rest of my body."
"What crime does Monseigneur speak of?" he asked in such a sincere tone that Fouquet, horrified, thought that Monsieur d'Herblay was simply joking with him, having decided, for some unknown reason, to make a fool of him.
"It can't be that d'Herblay would allow himself to play such jokes on me!" Fouquet thought in horror. "However, this idiot doesn't seem to be lying! Damn it, it's too late to retreat! I'll go on to the end, no matter what the outcome!"
— I speak of a crime in which you seem to be an accomplice, in which case, sir, you ought to be drawn and quartered, and I will certainly see to it that this is so, unless, of course, I am not mistaken and you have been duped. If you have been duped, you must tell me the whole truth, in which case I promise you that you will be treated fairly. The innocent have nothing to fear if they assist in the discovery of the crime, in the restoration of justice, and in the punishment of the guilty. Those who obstruct justice are considered accomplices. Think of this, sir! Bring me at once to your prisoner.
“Which prisoner exactly do you want to see?” asked de Bezmo, his voice trembling but his determination to stand his ground to the end.
- So you pretend to know nothing. Very well, I will pretend to believe in your ignorance. In that case, I will tell you who we are talking about.
At that moment Fouquet turned cold. He realized that d'Herblay had not told him the name under which the King's brother was registered, and under which the King himself now resides in the Bastille.
"We are talking about a prisoner who is extremely similar to a certain person," said Fouquet. "I will not continue, Monsieur de Besmo. I believe you have already understood who we are talking about."
"Not at all, monseigneur!" replied Besmo, who had detected a note of doubt in Fouquet's tone. "Every man resembles someone else. I am not in the habit of examining my prisoners. My business is to read the order, receive the prisoner, place him according to his rank, and make an entry in the register.
- Yes, yes! According to rank! - Fouquet perked up. - I demand to be taken to the prisoner of the highest rank of all those you hold in the Bastille.
“Could you give me more precise instructions, Monsignor?” Bezmo said, not so confidently, since he understood that they were talking specifically about Marchiali.
“Either you are a complete blockhead, de Besmo, or you are pretending to be one, but that will not help you!” said Fouquet in a sinister voice. “Blockheads are not appointed commandants of the Bastille. So you are not a blockhead. So you are a conspirator? Surely I can look at the register and see for whose support the largest sums are being allocated? You would not dare to refuse this to the Prosecutor General of France?”
Fouquet once again regretted that he had sold his position as Attorney General, and mentally gave thanks to God that no one in the Bastille yet knew about it.
“So you want me to take you to Marchiali?” exclaimed de Bezmo, looking as if he had just now realized who was being talked about.
"To him, you idiot!" exclaimed Fouquet, rejoicing in his soul that his investigation was gradually moving towards completion.
“I must look at the order signed by the King,” Bezmo said calmly.
"What the hell order?" the superintendent asked in surprise.
- According to the King's order, I am talking about Louis XIII, Monseigneur, but this order has not been revoked by the current King, so it is still valid. According to this order, no one should see this prisoner. Only the King's order gives the right to see this prisoner. If you do not have such an order, Monseigneur, a meeting with this prisoner is impossible for you. Please forgive me, I am only doing my duty. - With these words, de Besmo, feeling that he had finally stood on a firm kidney for a conversation with Fouquet, proudly straightened up, after which he comfortably settled into his chair.
"So you won't let me in, Monsieur de Besmo?" Fouquet asked wearily.
"I will let you in, Monseigneur, of course!" replied de Bezmo, guessing that Fouquet had no such order. "I will let you in immediately after you show me the King's order for such permission."
“Listen, Mr. Commandant, I give you my word of honor that if you let me in to see the said prisoner, I will hand you the King’s order that very minute!” exclaimed Fouquet, forgetting that he no longer had paper, ink, or pen with him, and that even if he got into the King’s cell, it would be difficult to get hold of such an order.
"If you have this order, I ask you to show it before I let you in, Monsignor," Bezmo replied. "If you don't have it, you won't be able to show it after you've entered, and the very moment I let you in, I'll be a criminal. In that case, I'll really lose my head."
"Monsieur de Besmo, you are forcing me to act by force," said Fouquet, despairing that de Besmo was right. "If you do not immediately comply with my demand, I will have you and all the officers under your command arrested."
"With what forces will the Monsignor make the arrest?" Bezmo asked. "You arrived in a carriage with only one driver."
"I will return here with thirty guns and ten thousand soldiers, Monsieur de Besmo," Fouquet said decisively. "You will regret your disobedience!"
- My lord, I think he is losing his mind! - this time Bezmo answered quite calmly. - You threaten me with storming the Bastille? In that case, the King will storm all your castles and fortresses, no matter how many you have. As for us, simple officers in the service of His Majesty, we are ready to lay down our lives for him and will strictly carry out his orders. However, if you threaten the governor of the Bastille in such a manner, you risk not leaving it now. In that case, you will not be able to return here with thirty cannons and ten thousand soldiers, my lord.
In despair, Fouquet grabbed a pen and paper from the commandant's desk and wrote:

"An order to the Lord Merchant Elder to gather a militia of citizens and go to the Bastille to serve His Majesty the King."

Bezmo shrugged:
“And who will deliver this order, Monsignor?” he asked.
Then Fouquet grabbed another piece of paper and this time wrote:

"Order to the Duke of Bouillon and the Prince of Cond; to take command of the Swiss and the guards and march on the Bastille to serve His Majesty the King..."

This time Bezmo objected:
— In the name of the King, you demand that I disobey the King's order? If you can command the King's name, monseigneur, produce a document in which the King authorizes your lordship to sign orders in his name. In that case, any paper you write here in my office will be accepted by me as an order of the King.
Fouquet thought for a moment and wrote in complete despair:

"Order to all soldiers, citizens, and nobles to seize and detain, wherever they may be, the Chevalier d'Herblay, Bishop of Vannes, and his accomplices, to whom belong, firstly, Mr. de Besmo, commandant of the Bastille, suspected of treason, mutiny, and insult to His Majesty..."

“That is enough, Monseigneur!” replied de Besmo. “You can write a whole stack of orders. Within these walls, without the said supporting document, they are of no effect when it comes to a special prisoner, about whose detention there are unambiguous orders from the highest authority in France. You will be able, when you leave here, to bring a case against me, calling me a criminal and a conspirator. In that case, I have a document which I will produce in my defense, and any court will consider me right in not letting you see the prisoner whom you are anxious to get to at all costs, but have not secured the corresponding order from the King.”
Fouquet was humiliated and destroyed.

XVII. How to get to the Bastille

At that moment, the doors to Bezmo’s office opened and the major appeared on the threshold.
“Monsieur d’Artagnan is here to see you!” said the major and stepped back.
D'Artagnan, indeed, entered the room, looked at Fouquet without any surprise, and then greeted de Bezmo cheerfully.
"Good day, my dear Marquis de Besmo!" he exclaimed. "We've been seeing each other a little more often than usual lately!"
"Good day, Monsieur d'Artagnan!" Bezmo answered affably, but somewhat cautiously. "I am glad to see you, if only because you never come to me without sufficient reason and do not demand that I do something that I cannot do without an order."
- How could it be otherwise, Monsieur de Bezmo? - d'Artagnan was surprised. - I come to you only on business, and only having the appropriate order in hand. Although on my last visit we had such a wonderful time in the company of my best friends that I, by God, am ready to come to you more often, but only if you invite me.
“So you have an order,” said de Bezmo with obvious relief. “Now, Monsieur Fouquet, you will see how faithfully we serve His Majesty. As soon as I am presented with an order to release a prisoner, or to take someone into custody, we carry it out immediately. Immediately!”
Fouquet shrugged wearily.
"Since you have brought no one, Monsieur d'Artagnan, I suppose the order requires me to release someone?" asked de Bezmo.
"This time you are mistaken," d'Artagnan replied with a dazzling smile. "You must arrest another prisoner."
- But where can I get this prisoner? - Bezmo was surprised. - After all, you arrived alone! I can’t arrest someone you didn’t deliver!
“Read this order and everything will become clear to you, Monsieur de Besmo,” d’Artagnan replied calmly and pulled a paper from his large pocket, which he handed to de Besmo.
Bezmo ran his eyes over the order, shuddered, glanced at Fouquet, then looked at d'Artagnan's smiling face, then looked again at Fouquet. After this, de Bezmo's face broke into a happy smile, he bowed low to d'Artagnan, from which it was evident that he had completely calmed down in relation to the scene that had recently played out in his office.
Then his face broke into exactly the same smile that was on d'Artagnan's face, after which de Bezmo turned to Fouquet:
"Monseigneur, it seems to me that your intention to get to where you have been trying so hard to get to will come true almost exactly as you wanted. You will end up in a cell in the Bastille," he said with obvious irony.
“Thank you, Monsieur d’Artagnan,” said Fouquet.
“Don’t rush into this, Monseigneur,” objected d’Artagnan, “after all, you don’t yet know the contents of the order.”
"However, you have come here at the most opportune moment," said de Bezmo, glad that he could take revenge on Fouquet for his threats and humiliation. "You are under arrest, Monsieur Fouquet, by order of the King."
Fouquet jumped up in surprise, after which he looked at d'Artagnan's face.
- Since you are not wearing a sword, Monseigneur, you can only proceed to the cell, - said d'Artagnan. - Monsieur de Besmo! I must accompany the prisoner to the door of the cell in which he will be placed. Such is the will of the King. The cell must be of the highest class. You will make an entry in the register after the King's order has been precisely carried out.
Fouquet, who understood nothing, stood up obediently, while de Bezmo took a bunch of keys from the safe, opened the door leading to the cells, and invited Fouquet and d'Artagnan to follow them.
At last they came to the cell where Bezmo intended to put Fouquet, de Bezmo opened the door with a key and invited Fouquet to enter the cell. At the same moment d'Artagnan pushed the bewildered de Bezmo into the cell, slammed the cell shut and turned the key twice. Fouquet looked at d'Artagnan in bewilderment, who calmly uttered only a short word:
- Let's go!
“Where to?” asked the puzzled Fouquet.
“To the chamber from which the King’s cry is heard, isn’t it clear?” d’Artagnan answered calmly.
“But we don’t have the key!” Fouquet objected.
“He’s probably on this link,” replied d’Artagnan.
“How do we know which one?” Fouquet asked in surprise.
“We’ll try them all, one will definitely do,” d’Artagnan grinned. “By the way, Monseigneur, how long did you spend here?”
“It seems to be nearly two o’clock already!” exclaimed Fouquet in surprise.
"By trying to persuade de Bezmo to abandon his duty?" d'Artagnan chuckled. "A man is not appointed Commandant of the Bastille who can be intimidated, bribed, or fooled. He can only be defeated or outwitted. In the latter case, he will remain alive, which has recently seemed preferable to me."
"What wonderful people they are!" thought Fouquet again. "I should make them my friends, all four of them. With people like these, you can achieve anything!"
Meanwhile, they approached the cell where Louis was imprisoned. From behind the doors, the King's desperate cries could be heard:
- Help! I am the King of France! - the prisoner cried. - The vile Fouquet has put me in this cage! To the aid of the King against Fouquet! Death to Fouquet! Death to the scoundrel Fouquet! I am the King of France! To the aid of the King!
These cries made Fouquet's heart bleed.
Trying to shout him down, d'Artagnan shouted:
- Your Majesty! We are your most devoted servants! We will immediately open these damned doors and return your freedom! We beg you to be patient a little!
The King did not immediately understand the meaning of what was said, but gradually he calmed down, and by the time d'Artagnan and Fouquet were finally able to open the doors, the King's despair had already given way to anger.
The door finally opened. The King looked joyfully at d'Artagnan, but at the same moment he noticed Fouquet, at whom he looked with a look full of horror and furious hatred.

XVIII. Royal gratitude

“The King in such a state!” the royal minister whispered in horror, not noticing the hatred in the King’s gaze.
"Have you come to kill me, sir?" the King asked Fouquet.
“Monsieur Fouquet has come to restore to you the freedom taken from you by the perfidious conspirators, Your Majesty,” said d’Artagnan with a low bow.
Louis seemed to be trying to press himself against the wall of his cell, to disappear, to dissolve in it. He still did not believe in his liberation, just as a few hours ago he could not believe in his captivity.
Having assessed the appearance of the King, whose clothes were torn and whose left sleeve was even stained with blood, d'Artagnan said to Fouquet:
- I think His Majesty is feeling cold. Would you mind lending me your coat, Mr. Superintendent?
Fouquet immediately took off his luxurious coat, which he bowed to the King. Louis seemed at first not to understand what was happening, but realizing that his appearance could not be called royal, he coldly accepted the coat strewn with diamonds, casually threw it on himself and quickly left the cell. D'Artagnan and Fouquet followed him.
Approaching one of the branches of the corridor, the King hesitated.
"Allow me, Your Majesty, for your safety, to go ahead," d'Artagnan said softly. The King, who had already calmed down, nodded graciously and let the captain go ahead.
D'Artagnan led the King and Fouquet the same way they had come to the cell, so that their path lay through Besmo's office. With one movement the captain took away the order for Fouquet's arrest, which immediately disappeared into his deep pocket. Just as quickly he took from the table the purse of gold that Fouquet had left on the commandant's desk. Then he took from his pocket a metallic-colored cloth mask that covered the entire face of the man who wore it.
"Allow me to offer Your Majesty this mask," he said to the King. "These people have no need to witness your departure."
The king nodded and put on his mask.
Seeing the King in a mask and Fouquet's coat, the guards unmistakably determined from the respect shown to him by Fouquet and d'Artagnan that they were in the presence of a noble person. The soldiers bowed respectfully before the men who were walking, rightly judging that such respect would not harm the cause.
As he left the gates of the Bastille, d'Artagnan threw the major a bunch of keys and a purse, saying as he went:
— Ninth chamber, release in half an hour.
The major nodded in agreement, realizing that a man like d'Artagnan gave such laconic orders only when he had the right to do so. In addition, the major believed that d'Artagnan's order would be confirmed by Bezmo, who this time, for some unknown reason, did not come out to see the captain of the musketeers to the gate. Fouquet's carriage was standing in the courtyard, with d'Artagnan's horse tied to the back.
D'Artagnan opened the door of Fouquet's carriage for the King. The King, looking at Fouquet, hesitated only a few seconds, after which he resolutely entered the carriage and settled himself in it with all possible comfort. D'Artagnan and Fouquet followed him in.
Sitting next to d'Artagnan, the King felt completely safe. At that moment his arrogance returned to him, he felt like the King of France again.
"So, sir, you have come to your senses and abandoned your plot?" he said to Fouquet. "But on what grounds do you expect forgiveness?"
"Your Majesty," replied Fouquet, "I have nothing to do with the plot! As soon as I learned of it, I hastened here to rescue you from this terrible place.
The King turned to d'Artagnan:
“Can he be trusted?” he asked the captain of the musketeers incredulously, as if Fouquet were not there.
"Your Majesty may trust the words of the superintendent," replied d'Artagnan. "It was only with his help that I was able to get to you to rescue you from the situation into which the conspirators had plunged you."
“And you couldn’t have managed without his help?” the King asked incredulously.
- I did not say that, Your Majesty. I would have restored you to the throne even if I had to pay for it with my life, but it could have been a long time, - said d'Artagnan. - The commandant of the Bastille, General de Besmo, is extremely zealous in the performance of his duty. Having been deceived by the conspirators, believing that an impostor was being held in the cell, he would not have allowed even me to do what was absolutely necessary to do. So de Besmo is still ignorant of who was being held in the Bastille. Monsieur Fouquet's help could not have been more opportune. In any case, without him, the matter of restoring legality could have been delayed for several more hours.
Fouquet blushed, remembering his helplessness and the unsightly role he had had to play.
“Well, if that’s the case, I’m grateful to you, Fouquet,” the King said reluctantly. “Where are we going?”
“ I propose that Your Majesty go to the Ch;teau de Vaux to expose the impostor,” replied d’Artagnan.
"To the castle in Vaux?" the King was horrified. "To this nest of rebels and conspirators?"
"There were only two conspirators, and at the moment they are far from the castle of Vaux. Your brother has taken over the castle..." d'Artagnan replied.
"The Duke of Orleans?" exclaimed the King, interrupting d'Artagnan.
"The Duke of Orleans is faithful to you, Your Majesty," said d'Artagnan. "Your other brother..."
" I have no other brother!" the King interrupted again. "Are you talking about some cousin?"
"You have a twin brother, of whom Your Majesty was not aware. He is the spitting image of you," d'Artagnan said. "He spent his entire life in the Bastille."
“In that very cell in which…” said Fouquet, but, catching d’Artagnan’s sharp and cold gaze, he stopped short and fell silent.
“You are slandering my mother, d’Artagnan,” the King replied dispassionately.
“Your Majesty will soon see the proof of my words with his own eyes,” the captain of the musketeers answered calmly.
"Before I see anything, I want to know everything," the King objected. "We will proceed from the fact that you have told the truth, although I still do not believe you, but having seen the proof, I will believe you. Speak."
“I can only express my conjectures,” said the musketeer, “while Monsieur Fouquet has apparently received more detailed information about this matter.”
The King looked at Fouquet again with hatred.
“How did you get this information, Fouquet?” asked the King.
“One of the conspirators told me about it,” answered Fouquet.
- He is under arrest? There were two of them, you say. Their names? In what prison are they currently being held? - demanded the King. - However, more about that later. First, tell me the whole story in order.
Fouquet told the King in detail all he knew about the matter, while the King listened with distrust, and d'Artagnan noted those details which he had not been able to guess. However, there were few such details, for which he congratulated himself.
“Well, sir,” said the King, when Fouquet had finished his story, omitting only the fact that he had been kept out of the Bastille for so long, and the unenviable part he had played in finally reaching the King’s cell, “you have not seen with your own eyes the so-called double, but you still insist that he is as like me as two peas in a pod?”
"Your Majesty, I saw him," d'Artagnan reported. "The resemblance is striking!"
"What impudence!" cried the King.
"Unheard-of impudence," agreed d'Artagnan. "Insolence forgivable only in a prince of the blood, the brother of the King."
“Which he is,” Fouquet added again, out of place, realizing belatedly that it would have been better to remain silent.
The rest of the journey passed in almost complete silence. Fouquet understood that this was not his day, since every new phrase only irritated the King. The King was deep in thought about the task ahead of him to expose the impostor, and also pondered what he should do with this impostor, who was probably really a prince of the blood and his own brother. D'Artagnan congratulated himself on his foresight and on the fact that he had honestly fulfilled his duty, and also pondered what fate now threatened his dear friends Aramis and Porthos.
When the carriage arrived at the Ch;teau de Vaux, Fouquet was the first to jump out of it and open the doors for the king.
"Monsieur d'Artagnan," said the King before leaving the carriage, "have you kept the paper I gave you yesterday?"
“Yes, Your Majesty,” d’Artagnan replied with a bow.
“Well, in that case…” the King replied. “Anyway, I have had an unforgettable experience from this adventure.”
And he looked tenderly at Fouquet.
"Anyway, it was a truly amazing time," he said in a calm voice. "You, Fouquet, have surpassed yourself. I could confidently sum up the last few days. Yes, unforgettable!"
“Your Majesty is too kind to me,” Fouquet replied with embarrassment, confident that after his participation in saving Louis he was completely forgiven.
"I appreciate your efforts, Monsieur Fouquet," the King continued. "The party was a great success! Do you agree, Monsieur d'Artagnan? Do you agree that the party was a great success?"
"Your assessment is extremely accurate, Your Majesty, and I dare not argue with it," d'Artagnan bowed again. "I heard your assessment and took it into account. The celebration was a great success, Your Majesty."

XIX. Castling

As soon as the King got out of the carriage, Fouquet was about to call the retinue worthy of receiving the King, however, d'Artagnan stopped him.
"What are you going to do, Monsieur Fouquet?" he asked.
“To provide the King with a worthy reception, the dignity of which begins with the appropriate retinue greeting His Majesty immediately upon exiting the carriage!” Fouquet answered in bewilderment.
"Just a moment," said the captain of the Musketeers, and then turned to the King. "Your Majesty, I think we do not see any of the fuss that would inevitably arise if the King of France were to suddenly disappear and his disappearance be discovered, do we?"
"What does this mean, d'Artagnan?" exclaimed the King. He did not show anger only because he had already had many occasions to convince himself that, firstly, d'Artagnan was his faithful servant, secondly, he never gave stupid advice, and thirdly, he did not commit rash acts.
"No guards, no panic, no sign of uneasiness," continued d'Artagnan. "This should convince you, Your Majesty, that what we have told you is not fiction, but the truth. In Your Majesty's place, your place has been taken by an impostor, so similar to you that no one has been alarmed."
"The sooner we must end this!" cried the King.
“If Your Majesty’s aim is to make this whole story public…” d’Artagnan muttered.
The King and Fouquet both shuddered. Fouquet looked at d'Artagnan in admiration, and the King in bewilderment.
"The culprits have kidnapped Your Majesty and replaced him with an impostor, without anyone knowing it. We must do the same thing in the opposite direction and by the same route," d'Artagnan said simply. "Monsieur Fouquet, I suppose there is a way to enter your castle without attracting the attention of the servants and inhabitants of this castle? I suppose there are also rooms where we could wait until the middle of the night?"
“Let’s go,” Fouquet said decisively.
“Your Majesty, please put on your mask for a few more minutes,” said d’Artagnan.
The king quickly put on his mask and followed Fouquet.
“You are of great assistance to us, Monsieur Fouquet,” said d’Artagnan. “Without you we would not have solved this difficult problem, Monsieur Superintendent! Whatever the case, the situation is still difficult, and I will even allow myself to express the seditious idea that the program of His Majesty’s stay at the Ch;teau de Vaux has not yet come to an end, which means that it is still too early to draw conclusions about how this celebration went. To be completely honest with you, Monsieur Fouquet, I, at the risk of incurring His Majesty’s displeasure, will dare to express my own opinion about everything that happened. It seems to me, Monsieur Fouquet, that the King flattered you by saying that the celebration was a great success. Well, do with me what you will, Your Majesty, but it seems to me that the time has not yet come for such conclusions. Nothing yet indicates that the celebration was a success, I could doubt it until events have come to a happy end. Therefore, I declare that the holiday was not at all a success, Your Majesty.
at d'Artagnan in bewilderment, and then said:
- It is incomprehensible! Just when I had just managed to justify myself before the King and, as I hope, restore my good name, how are you trying to set me at odds with him?
"Fouquet, the captain is standing up for you," the King laughed. "Believe me, it really is so!"
Fouquet was even more surprised, but d'Artagnan added:
- The present day will leave not very pleasant memories in His Majesty's memory, - he said hastily. - Therefore, His Majesty hopes that after the misunderstanding that has arisen is cleared up, he will stay with you for some time longer, so that you can have the opportunity to demonstrate all the good surprises that you have prepared for the King and his retinue. You will have the opportunity to smooth over the impression that His Majesty has had, so that he will no longer consider you an insufficiently hospitable host. Therefore, we cannot consider the holiday over. And if so, then the phrase that the holiday was a great success is somewhat premature, because the holiday is not over yet!
“If your words, Mr. Captain, had exactly the meaning you reported, I am grateful to you for this idea, and I hope that His Majesty will really give me the opportunity to justify myself not in words but in deeds, by covering His Majesty for a few more days with all the cares that I could show to the best of my ability,” said Fouquet.
- That's exactly it, Monsieur Fouquet, - the King replied. - Do not look for any hidden meaning behind the captain's words. He explained his words superbly, and I agree with him. Do you hear, d'Artagnan? I agree with you and take back my words.
“It is extremely kind of you, Your Majesty,” replied d’Artagnan with a bow.
“So the King has cancelled the order for Fouquet’s arrest, ” thought d’Artagnan, “or at least postponed it.”
“Well, we can wait a little while to arrest this scoundrel,” thought the King. “The captain is right, I still need Fouquet.”
“Apparently, d’Artagnan is not as clever as I thought,” Fouquet decided. “Argue with the King over such trifles as the evaluation of a holiday? What’s the point? I never argue with the King, and I’ve already fallen into disfavor! No, he’ll never make a courtier. And this is to my advantage, because I get an additional opportunity to gain the King’s favor, and for this I didn’t have to argue with His Majesty!”
When the King, accompanied by Fouquet and d'Artagnan, had passed through a hidden path, arranged like a labyrinth of hedges, and had entered through a secret door, he found himself in a luxuriously furnished room with soft furniture, among which was a cupboard with all kinds of drinks, candied fruits and biscuits, he furiously attacked these dishes, because he felt an irresistible hunger. In fact, the violent shock he had experienced during the last twenty-four hours had driven away all feeling of hunger from him, and now that his faithful captain of the Musketeers was at his side, pride, self-confidence and calmness finally returned to him.
"I must leave you, Your Majesty. I need to understand the secret mechanisms that allowed the audacious sacrilege to be committed last night," said d'Artagnan.
“Don’t go!” cried the King.
“I will return at once,” replied the captain. “Should I take Monsieur Fouquet with me, or would you prefer his company?”
“Go,” replied the King, ashamed of his fears. “We will play a game of chess with Monsieur Fouquet,” he added, noticing in the corner a chess table inlaid with malachite and mother-of-pearl, on which stood chessmen of black and white opal.
The King had not yet finished his game with Fouquet, who was so absent-minded that he allowed himself to almost win the game, when d'Artagnan entered the room.
"Everything is in order, Your Majesty!" he said. "The impostor will soon fall asleep. I have ordered Hubert to add a generous dose of sleeping pills to the tea."
"Do you mean to say, Captain, that you can, without the King's orders, order a sleeping draught to be added to his evening drink, and your orders will be carried out?" cried the King. "For then you could easily do what these vile conspirators did!"
“To have the opportunity to do something and to do it, Your Majesty, are far from the same thing,” the Gascon answered calmly.
"What a man this is!" thought the King. "I think I underestimated him!"
"A worthless courtier," thought Fouquet. "To inform the King that you have the opportunity to kidnap him is the same as signing your own death warrant!"
"Almost won the game," d'Artagnan thought contemptuously of Fouquet, stealing a glance at the chess table. "This man's pride conquers his reason. He is doomed. Whether I am ordered to arrest him today, or tomorrow, or in a week, it makes no difference. This man should not be near the King, for by his actions he is constantly burying himself in a way that no envious person or courtier would ever bury him. It is as if he had signed a treaty of collaboration with his mortal enemy Colbert."
At the same time, d'Artagnan, as if by accident, touched one of the legs of the chess table so that it fell and the pieces rolled across the carpet.
- Your Majesty! Forgive me my awkwardness! - cried d'Artagnan. - I scattered the pieces and did not give you the opportunity to finish the game!
"No problem," the King replied with undisguised joy. "The game was drawing to an end, we were looking at a draw, and this game no longer interested me much."
“I thought His Majesty was winning,” said Fouquet, who had finally realized that it was not entirely wise to win against the King.
"My victory or a draw, it really doesn't matter," the King said leisurely, completely flattered. "I don't insist on my victory. Let's consider, Monsieur Fouquet, that the game ended in a draw."
Fouquet did not answer, but only bowed low.
“It seemed to me, too, that Your Majesty’s position was stronger,” said d’Artagnan meanwhile. “My awkwardness drives me all the more into despair. Forgive me, Your Majesty! However, I know nothing about chess. Come, gentlemen! Your Majesty does not need to put on a mask, since I have ordered that all the corridors through which we will pass are clear.”
The king threw the mask onto the table with hatred, and d'Artagnan picked it up and hid it in his pocket.
Having led the King and Fouquet through the corridors as deftly as if it were his own house, d'Artagnan finally brought them to the door of one of the rooms, which he opened and invited them to enter.
“Where are we?” asked the King.
“This is the room of Monsieur d’Herblay, Bishop of Vannes,” replied Fouquet.
D'Artagnan looked dryly at Fouquet. At that moment he regretted that he had not carried out the King's order to arrest Fouquet immediately. But it was too late.
"Is that the name of one of the conspirators?" the King asked sharply.
Fouquet was ready to bite off his tongue and swallow it.
"Answer, Fouquet!" cried the King.
“I promise Your Majesty to carry out the most thorough investigation of this crime immediately after we have eliminated its consequences,” Fouquet said in a trembling voice.
- But you said that you learned this whole story from one of the conspirators! Therefore, you know their names! Speak immediately! - demanded the King.
“I dare not lie to Your Majesty,” replied Fouquet. “One of the kidnappers is the Bishop of Vannes.”
“This is one of your three friends, isn’t it, d’Artagnan?” the King persisted.
“Certainly, Your Majesty,” replied d’Artagnan, “but even if you order me to arrest my own brother, I will arrest him immediately.”
“Okay!” the King calmed down.
“Do you have a brother?” Fouquet asked in a whisper.
"No," d'Artagnan whispered back, winking at Fouquet. "Having brothers is extremely dangerous."
"It would be strange for me, who have such a multitude of nephews, not to have a brother!" thought d'Artagnan. "But now is not the time to remember that. And let them continue for some time to live under the names of de Batz, de Castelmore, and de Montesquiou."
“But in that case, what you said doesn’t make any sense,” Fouquet whispered back.
To this, d'Artagnan merely shrugged his shoulders, tilted his head to the right and winked his other eye.
"What are we doing in this room?" asked the King.
"Sit down, I beg you, Your Majesty," said d'Artagnan. "You are about to see one of the performances prepared at the Ch;teau de Vaux, to which Monsieur Fouquet has no connection."
With these words, d'Artagnan approached the icon depicting the Virgin Mary, pressed some spring from below, after which the icon opened like a closet door. Behind this door was a large wheel, reminiscent of a carriage wheel. D'Artagnan tried to turn it to the left, but it did not give in, so he began to turn it to the right. At that very moment, part of the ceiling began to open, and a platform the size of a large bed gradually began to descend from the ceiling. When this platform sank lower, it became clear that this was the bed - the bed of His Majesty the King of France.
On the bed, a man was sleeping peacefully, wearing the King's pajamas and under a blanket that belonged to the King. Louis jumped up and ran to the bed. As soon as he looked at the sleeping man's face, he froze in horror. He saw himself on the bed!
Fouquet was as surprised and frightened as Louis. Only d'Artagnan remained calm and continued to turn the wheel until the bed sank to the floor.
“Mr. Superintendent,” d’Artagnan said quietly, “would you mind helping me carry this young man to that bed?”
"Wait!" cried the King, and though he spoke in a whisper, his intonation screamed. "I want to see him!"
And he began to look closely at the sleeping youth. This gave time for the other participants in this scene to look at him.
“This is truly his twin brother,” thought Fouquet. “Monsieur d’Herblay was quite right! They are two incarnations of the same man, there is no doubt about it. His blood is as royal as that of Louis! To replace one by another is not a crime. It is no more serious a crime than the one committed against this unfortunate prince! D’Herblay declared himself the executor of God’s will, and I was a complete ass not to believe him and agree with him! In matters of God’s will, Monsieur the Bishop is much more competent than I am! My God, what have I done! I have destroyed the good plans of a great man, which had already been put into effect, not to mention the fact that I have ruined this great man! And it will be a small consolation to me that this has allowed me to reconcile myself with the King. This other one has no less right to the throne than Louis. My God!” Why did you open my eyes only now, when it’s too late to fix anything?”
“That’s enough,” Louis said coldly. “D’Artagnan, pen and paper!”
D'Artagnan went to the table which Aramis had placed next to his bed, and, as he expected, found on it everything necessary for writing.
"I hope there are no poems left here by our musketeer abbot?" he thought. "Some notes! Of course, he didn't think he was going to have to make a hasty escape!"
D'Artagnan, with an imperceptible movement, hid Aramis's papers behind the cuff of his jacket and, placing several clean sheets of paper, a pen and an inkwell on a tray, presented all this to the King.
Louis, almost without thinking, began to write the order in a hurry. Having put a sweeping signature at the end, he carefully read the document again, after which he folded it in half and handed it to d'Artagnan with the words:
- Do it immediately after you lift me up on this bed to my bedroom.
Then he looked at Fouquet and said to him:
- I am returning your coat to you, Mr. Superintendent. We will see each other tomorrow. I am still your guest.
With these words the King threw himself on his bed, still wearing his shoes and a torn shirt, the left sleeve of which was stained with blood. After this he made a sign with his hand upwards, signifying an order to the captain of the musketeers to lift the bed up.
The captain began to slowly rotate the wheel in the opposite direction, the bed began to rise smoothly, taking Louis with it. As soon as the bed rose to its former place, and the ceiling closed, d'Artagnan pulled a small dagger out of his boot and began to do something with it behind the wheel's axle. There was a small click, after which the captain of the musketeers easily removed the wheel from its axle. Then he returned the icon to its former place.
"I believe that the Holy Virgin will forgive me for taking this part of her property with me," he said to Fouquet, pointing to the wheel. "I ask you to help me carry the Prince to your carriage. By the way, would you lend it to me?"
“But to carry it through the whole castle?” Fouquet was surprised. “Is that reasonable?”
"You underestimate the Bishop of Vannes," d'Artagnan chuckled. " You won't have to carry him far."
With these words he went to one of the walls, felt around with his hand along the edges of the icon depicting Saint Bartholomew, after which this icon also opened. Behind it was a lever, which d'Artagnan pulled down, after which an extremely cleverly hidden door opened in the wall, leading outside.
"But this is my carriage!" exclaimed Fouquet. "How did it get here?"
"While some people are moving opal figures around the table," d'Artagnan answered cheerfully, "others are moving something more substantial. Help me move the prince!"
- Indeed! - Fouquet suddenly remembered. - But where are you going to take him?
“Where it says on this paper,” d’Artagnan patted his pocket.
“Back to the Bastille, really?” Fouquet was horrified.
"It is fortunate for you, Monsieur Fouquet, that it is not your duty to know where I am taking him," replied d'Artagnan, as he comfortably placed Philippe in the carriage with the help of velvet-covered cushions. He then placed on the sleeping prince the mask which the king had thrown on the table when they entered Fouquet's study.
“After all, the unfortunate young man has already spent almost his entire life in prison!” Fouquet persisted. “After all, he is a Prince of the Blood!”
"You should have thought of this either a little earlier or never," replied d'Artagnan. "Your thoughts are extremely correct in their depth, Monsieur Superintendent, but I would not say so with regard to the time of their expression."
“If you call me a donkey, Captain, I won’t even be offended,” Fouquet said wearily.
“I never advise anyone to say anything bad about themselves,” d’Artagnan answered cheerfully. “At least as long as the world is full of good people who would be happy to do this work for you. They would easily say a whole box of nasty things about you, and they would find much more expressive words for it! Would you be so kind as to send one of my musketeers here? And order my horse to be fed with choice oats, I will need him tomorrow.”
With these words, d'Artagnan got into the carriage and locked the doors from the inside.
A minute later, one of the musketeers approached the carriage.
- Chamonix, my dear, today you will have to play the role of coachman, but rest assured, you are carrying out the secret and most important order of the King, this one! - with these words the captain patted his pocket. - Let's go to the Bastille, without stopping.
And Fouquet's carriage, for the second time that day, rushed to Paris, to the Bastille.

XX. Commandant of the Bastille

As soon as the carriage drove up to the gates of the Bastille, d'Artagnan jumped out of it cheerfully and turned to the musketeer who was acting as coachman.
- Chamonix, you are responsible for this prisoner with your head. He is asleep, and I believe he will not wake up, but do not let anyone near the carriage until I return.
This order was rather strange, considering that there was no one nearby, and the captain of the musketeers had only moved ten steps away from the carriage to knock on the gate.
"Open up, the King's command!" he cried.
The gate opened slightly, d'Artagnan showed the guard the order, after which the gate opened extremely quickly. D'Artagnan waved his hand to the musketeer, who climbed back into the coachman's seat and the carriage drove into the courtyard, after which the gate closed just as quickly.
"Keep guard, don't look in, don't let anyone in or out!" d'Artagnan ordered sharply, after which two guards stood at attention at each carriage door.
"Major, make sure!" d'Artagnan ordered the major abruptly and, without even checking to see how his order was being carried out, headed for de Bezmo's office.
Opening the doors of General de Bezmo's office, d'Artagnan quickly entered his office.
De Bezmo stared at d'Artagnan as if he were a ghost.
- You, captain? - he exclaimed. - After all you've done? How dare you?
"Calm down, my dear fellow!" replied d'Artagnan. "Read this."
And he put a sheet of paper on the table.
"An order from the King?" de Bezmo was surprised. "Another one?"
"You are popular, dear Monsieur de Bezmo!" d'Artagnan grinned. "The King has remembered you for the second time in twenty-four hours. I'll bet you two pistoles that you're in line for promotion."
“But it is written here,” stammered Bezmo, “it seems to be written here that I must obey you in everything, Monsieur d’Artagnan!”
De Bezmo immediately jumped up and bowed to d'Artagnan.
“ Let’s not delay this,” the Gascon grinned. “Start obeying right now.”
- Of course, Captain of the King's Musketeers! - agreed de Bezmo. - But allow me to ask, why did you lock me up?
"Does this paper say that you can ask me questions and I have to answer them?" d'Artagnan asked coldly.
“Forgive me, forgive me, Monsieur d’Artagnan,” Bezmo hastened to answer, “I’m not asking any questions.”
- And I give no answers. That's strange! - agreed d'Artagnan. - However, I will explain the whole situation to you, out of old musketeer friendship. The King wanted to look at the prisoner Marchiali in order to verify the features of his appearance known to you. However, it would have been better if you had not known these very features.
- But I know nothing, Monsieur d'Artagnan! - exclaimed de Bezmo. - Who cares what kind of appearance one has? Although, of course, everyone has the right to appearance, but on condition that this appearance is such an appearance that...
- Enough, de Besmo! - d'Artagnan said coldly, - His Majesty has ordered the prisoner Marchiali to be brought to me personally, accompanied by Fouquet himself. Monsieur Fouquet has decided to check at the same time how well you are fulfilling your duties, did he not tell you this at the end of his inspection?
“I remember him saying something like that!” de Bezmo stammered.
- And at the end of the test, we decided to check how faithfully you serve the King. Will you be able to arrest Fouquet himself? - said d'Artagnan. - And you demonstrated exemplary obedience. You arrested the Prosecutor General without blinking an eye. That is commendable!
"I will arrest the Prince of the Blood too, if the King so orders!" cried de Bezmo enthusiastically.
"And this is so commendable that it deserves a monetary reward, which I will certainly report to His Majesty, but let us not overstep the bounds of reason. Such an order is not expected," replied the Gascon. "You can be completely calm about this. I return your Marchiali to you with one additional instruction."
“I’m listening to you, Monsieur d’Artagnan,” answered Bezmo.
"He's wearing a mask now," said d'Artagnan. "It's made of cloth."
“I understand!” Bezmo chimed in.
"Understanding is not necessary, but compliance is," the captain clarified. "So, he is wearing a mask. He must wear this mask whenever anyone approaches his door. None of your servants, including yourself, Mr. de Besmo, must henceforth see this man without a mask."
"And me too?" asked de Bezmo. "I understand, Monsieur d'Artagnan."
- Understand…
“Yes, yes, it’s not necessary to understand!” repeated de Bezmo.
- And even harmful to health, - added the captain. - If anyone ever violates this order, for disobedience, this time it would be good to understand, he will have to answer to the full extent of the law! For disobedience he faces something unpleasant, do you understand me? Extremely unpleasant something!
“Yes, I understand!” exclaimed de Bezmo.
"That's wonderful!" agreed d'Artagnan. "I wouldn't like to say out loud what awaits you or anyone who dares to look at the face of the prisoner Marchiali."
"This is the third person in one day who has threatened me with the death penalty," thought de Bezmo. "Perhaps it's time for me to change jobs? However, no one has yet said that this threat will be carried out!"
" No one will see him. Never. Believe me, Monsieur d'Artagnan," de Bezmo said firmly.
"I believe you," the captain replied, nodding indulgently. "Next. If you receive an order to transfer this man to another fortress, you are obliged to ensure that no one sees his face."
“He will wear this rag mask in case of any movement,” de Bezmo agreed.
"A rag?" cried d'Artagnan. "You consider that a guarantee?"
“But how else can we ensure the guarantee?” asked the discouraged de Bezmo.
— A rag mask can be torn off by anyone. In the event of any transfer, you will personally put on this prisoner a mask that will be impossible to remove, neither by him, nor by his accomplices, nor by his enemies. In other words, by no one. A mask that cannot be removed.
"What is this mask that cannot be removed?" asked de Bezmo, his voice trembling.
"The iron mask," replied d'Artagnan. "And nothing else. Receive the prisoner."
With these words, he turned sharply on his heels and walked out of Bezmo's office.
The stunned de Bezmo whispered in horror:
— Iron mask...

After the prisoner had been placed in the cell from which he had been removed by Aramis's will, d'Artagnan returned to the carriage and ordered Chamonix to take him back to the Ch;teau de Vaux.
Meanwhile, de Bezmo had already explained to his men that Fouquet had previously come to inspect them.
This news horrified the guard who had sold Fouquet the right to use pen and paper for half a million. He immediately ran to de Bezmo, who immediately jumped out of the gate and shouted to d'Artagnan:
- Wait! Monsieur d'Artagnan! Wait!
“What else is there?” asked d’Artagnan, who was about to take his first nap in two days.
- Could you return Monsieur Fouquet's ring? He accidentally dropped it in the guardroom! Here is this ring! - with these words, de Bezmo showed d'Artagnan a ring with a huge diamond.
"Dropped it?" d'Artagnan asked skeptically. "By accident? Well, well."
“I dropped it in some incomprehensible way,” de Bezmo muttered, embarrassed, covered in sweat.
"Then keep it for Monsieur Fouquet, whom I shall probably soon bring back to you," replied d'Artagnan. "You will have the opportunity of explaining to him personally the circumstances under which he dropped this ring."
"Will he come for a new inspection? But when will that be?" de Bezmo asked in bewilderment.
“Questions?” d’Artagnan answered sharply.
“No questions, Monsieur d’Artagnan,” de Bezmo said suddenly.
- He will return, you can be sure. But not for the ring.
“I understand, Monsieur d’Artagnan,” agreed de Bezmo. “On behalf of the King.”
"And nothing else, Monsieur de Bezmo," replied the captain. "But do not forget that orders in France concerning your prisoners come only from the King."
With these words d'Artagnan jumped into the carriage and shouted again:
- In the name of the King and only with his own signature, Mr. de Bezmo! And in no other way!
A minute later the carriage was already racing towards the Ch;teau de Vaux, and the captain of the musketeers was sleeping soundly, splendidly settled on Monsieur Fouquet's velvet pillows.
Having gone up to his office, de Bezmo, incredibly tired from the ups and downs of the last three days, said several more times in bewilderment:
— Iron mask.
Then he stood up resolutely and looked out the window.
"Major!" he cried. "Send one of your men as quickly as possible for the best blacksmith in Paris. I shall have an urgent order for him."

XXI. The King Arranges an Interrogation

The next morning, d'Artagnan, passing by the stables, ordered that his horse be cleaned and prepared for a long journey. After this, he looked into the room where the sergeant of the musketeers was staying.
- D'Arlencourt, my dear fellow! Twenty men must be ready to set out in forty minutes for a long pursuit. Sergeant, I entrust you with the formation of this detachment. Feed them, supply them with field provisions, gunpowder, bullets and all other field equipment according to the regulations of military operations. - the captain of the musketeers ordered.
“It will be done, captain,” the sergeant answered in a clear military manner.
"And remember, we will be in a hurry!" added d'Artagnan. "The King's urgent order."
"May I ask, Captain?" the sergeant hesitated. "If the order is urgent, why don't you leave immediately?"
"Because the order has not yet arrived," smiled d'Artagnan. "I intend to inspect the island fortress of Belle-Ile again. At the moment I am in no hurry to make this trip, but in thirty-nine minutes I shall be in a terrible hurry. I shall consider any musketeer who lags behind me for even three minutes a deserter."
After this, d'Artagnan lightly touched the bottom of the brim of his hat with two fingers of his right hand, in response to which the sergeant stood at attention and clicked his heels.
Approaching the doors of the royal bedroom, d'Artagnan greeted the footman, after which he asked:
- Hubert, my dear, is the King awake yet? Is he alone?
“His Majesty has summoned Monsieur Fouquet,” the footman replied.
- Already? - d'Artagnan nodded and glanced at the wall clock. - How long?
“Five minutes, Captain,” Hubert replied.
D'Artagnan nodded and sat down on the leather chair, crossing his legs and twirling his right moustache with his left hand. If Athos, Porthos or Aramis had seen him in this position, they would have noted that d'Artagnan was visibly nervous, but if Planchet had seen him, he would have said that his former master was preparing for a decisive leap into the dizzying unknown and was considering every move.
Meanwhile, Louis summoned Fouquet to finally clarify the names of all the conspirators and their whereabouts.
" Monsieur Fouquet," he began after the usual ceremonies with which Fouquet paid his respects to his King, "I have invited you to a conversation because I wish to know the names of all the conspirators guilty of the events of the past day.
“Your Majesty, they have repented, and I ask you to forgive them,” Fouquet replied with a bow, finally depriving himself of the possibility of salvation.
“Do I ask you whether they have repented or not?” the King replied coldly. “Besides, I did not ask your advice on what to do with them! I want to know the names of all the conspirators. All of them, Fouquet. I already know the name of one. It is d’Herblay, Bishop of Vannes. The names of the others?”
"In fact, he was alone. The other man he used was misled and did not realize that he was participating in a conspiracy. He was convinced that he was carrying out Your Majesty's orders," Fouquet said.
"You do not hear me, or do not wish to hear me, Fouquet!" cried the King, stamping his foot angrily. "I do not ask you the reasons for these people's actions. I ask their names. Well then?"
“Baron du Valon, Your Majesty,” said Fouquet quietly, who would have preferred to sink into the ground rather than tell the King the names of people whom he was thereby condemning to execution, or at best to eternal exile if they managed to hide outside the borders of France.
"This d'Herblay seems to be your friend," said the King, and there was not a drop of questioning intonation in his tone; he simply stated it.
“He was my friend, Your Majesty,” replied Fouquet, in whose soul a most cruel struggle was taking place between the duty of friendship and the duty of a loyal subject.
“It is most unfortunate, Mr. Superintendent,” the King said coldly.
“In this friendship, Your Majesty, until I knew about the crime being prepared, I did not see anything that would dishonor me,” answered Fouquet.
“You should have foreseen this crime, Mr. Former Attorney General,” said the King, emphasizing the word “former.”
Fouquet shuddered. He realized that the King had learned of his sale of the position of Attorney General from Colbert. And he sensed that the King, in speaking to him, was relying on the logic of Colbert, for whom Fouquet was guilty of all the atrocities committed in France simply because he was Fouquet, that is, the very man whose existence was hindering the career advancement of Colbert himself.
“Since the crime was committed by my former friend,” replied Fouquet, also emphasizing the word “former,” “and since it was committed in my former castle, I plead guilty and place myself in your hands, Your Majesty.”
“It is good that you understand your guilt, Monsieur Fouquet, but you forgot to mention another reason,” the King said coldly. “First of all, you are guilty because I think so.”
Fouquet bowed silently.
" Monsieur Fouquet, I am perhaps ready to forgive you," continued the King. "But by your denial you deprive me of this opportunity. You are shielding your former, as you said, friends, which is why I am forced to see you as their accomplice. If you are really outraged by this crime, you must facilitate the speedy arrest of all the conspirators, meanwhile I have heard from you only two names, while there should have been at least twenty conspirators!"
"There were only two of them, Your Majesty, and there are simply no other names," Fouquet said calmly. "The third criminal is me, who did not guess the intentions of the conspirators."
"You have so many friends, Monsieur Fouquet, and you have brothers too. Did they all calmly watch your ruin, calmly watch you lose your influence, and do nothing to save you?" the King was surprised. "And only two of them did something to save you? Do you ask me to believe these fables, Monsieur Superintendent?"
“I must have misinterpreted the word ‘friends,’ Your Majesty,” Fouquet sighed sadly. “I really did consider myself surrounded by friends. And I did everything for them so that they would be happy and carefree with me, or far from me. I enjoyed their company. Even now I would give my life for any of them. But it never occurred to me to expect any of them to sacrifice their well-being or even their money for me.”
"This understanding of friendship surprises me, Mr. Superintendent," the King admired. "You are apparently either a saint, or an extraordinary cunning man, or the rumors about your intelligence are greatly exaggerated."
“It is not for me to judge, Your Majesty, but I assure you that I am not a saint,” answered Fouquet. “I know of several sins that I have committed, which, however, are not crimes, and if they are punished, then not by human laws, but by God’s.”
"Are you talking about the sin of greed, Monsieur Fouquet?" the King asked with a smile.
“I am speaking of adultery, Your Majesty,” replied Fouquet, referring to his own love affairs with certain married ladies.
At these words the King blushed, his face became blotchy. He decided that Fouquet was hinting at an affair with Mademoiselle La Valli;re. For twenty-four hours he had not thought of her, being preoccupied only with his own fate. Fouquet's words had wounded the King to the very heart. It seemed to him that a red-hot dagger had been thrust into his heart and was being turned there to cause him even greater torment. The King immediately remembered that Fouquet had written an inadmissible letter to Mademoiselle La Valli;re, offering her friendship, and, in all likelihood, something more. It was this letter that had caused the King's quarrel with La Valli;re, and had probably even led to the final break that the King had desired, and with which he could not reconcile himself. Fouquet was the culprit of all these troubles. Now that the King was no longer threatened with the loss of his throne and freedom, yesterday's events seemed to him a painful dream that could easily be forgotten, while the break with La Valli;re, and even more so, the King's loss of faith in the pure love of a girl, made Fouquet the main culprit of all the King's misfortunes. Fouquet's fate was finally decided at that moment.
"So, the Bishop of Vannes, Baron du Vallon, who else, speak quickly?" the King asked sharply.
“Your Majesty has already named the third and final criminal, it is me, Your Majesty,” Fouquet answered with sorrow in his voice.
- Nonsense! These two are friends of d'Artagnan! And friends of the Count de la F;re! - exclaimed the King. - Wait a minute! This Count has a son, and his name is the Vicomte de Bragelonne! This young man, it seems, flattered himself with the hope of marrying Mademoiselle?.. Here we already know five names!
"Your Majesty, I beg you, do not go so far!" cried Fouquet in horror. "Monsieur d'Artagnan did everything he could to prevent the conspiracy; did you not see that for yourself yesterday?"
“So be it,” said the King, calming down a little. “I trust Captain d’Artagnan, he is an honest man.”
"The same may be said of the Comte de la F;re, Your Majesty," added Fouquet, who did not yet understand that his intercession was worse than the accusation, and was itself an additional accusation in the eyes of the King. "He is the noblest and most honest man in all France. I beg you to confine your search to those whom I have named to you."
"It is impossible that Bragelonne should not be mixed up in this matter!" the King stubbornly objected. "I understand his feelings too well not to understand his intentions! In the ambiguous situation in which he finds himself, he may prove capable of any evil."
- He can only do any harm to himself, Your Majesty. He will not take revenge on anyone, considering only himself guilty of the fact that... - Fouquet stopped short. He had said too much again and realized it too late.
"Very well!" the King answered sharply. "It is already clear to me that you will not tell me the names of all those guilty in this matter. First we will catch and punish the main criminals, and then we will think about how to expose their accomplices.
“What do you mean by this, Your Majesty?” Fouquet asked in a low voice.
"I understand by this," replied the King, "that, having broken into the fortress of Belle- Ile, that nest of vipers, with our troops, at the head of our troops, we shall take possession of this hotbed of rebellion and shall carry out such a massacre as shall rid France forever of the conspiracies emanating from this place. The same shall happen to this castle at Vaux. And no one shall escape from it, do you hear? No one."
- Your Majesty, do you order my people to be killed?
"There must be no people of yours in my kingdom, Fouquet!" the King answered sharply. "Only my people must live in France. Your people must be exterminated. Every single one of them."
- Oh, Your Majesty! - said Fouquet, falling on his knees. - Have mercy! They are not guilty of anything, I am the only one to blame!
At that moment the King was seized with a shudder. He realized that he was still in the castle of Vaux, and therefore in the power of its master, Fouquet. He had revealed his plans too soon, yielding to his feelings instead of basing the conversation solely on cold-blooded reason.
“You have hastened to misinterpret my words, Monsieur Fouquet,” he said much more gently. “To exterminate dissent does not at all mean to exterminate people! These are no longer the times when execution was the only argument of Kings. The last argument, I agree, but not the only one. No, thank God, we have other means! I have parliaments that judge in my name, prisons in which prisoners are kept, and not necessarily for life. But, of course, we also have scaffolds on which the sentences of the court are carried out, but this is only an extreme measure, which is used when all other means are not effective enough.
Fouquet was still kneeling, pale and humiliated.
“I will take the liberty of noting, Your Majesty, that the trial of this crime will require publicity of those circumstances to which, fortunately, only a very narrow circle of people are still privy.
The King thought with horror that these people included d'Herblay and du Valon, as well as Fouquet himself. "These three, as well as the intriguer de Chevreuse, should be locked up in a stone bag for life, or better yet, destroyed," the King decided, "and the rest can be dealt with later."
"It is necessary, sir, that justice should punish the guilty. And those cases which cannot be dealt with by parliament are decided by the King himself," Louis replied, his voice clearly having a metallic note.
“I am ready to suffer the punishment I deserve, Your Majesty, but I beg you to pardon Monsieur d’Herblay and Monsieur du Vallon,” repeated Fouquet.
"You ask me to pardon my murderers?" cried the King. "And after this you say that you were not among the conspirators?"
“They are only rebels, Your Majesty,” Fouquet objected. “After all, they did not attempt your life!”
"How do you know this, Fouquet?" exclaimed the King, who, as always, omitted the word "sir" when he was particularly excited. "Then they confided their plans to you?"
"I just know my friends too well!" sighed Fouquet, deeply offended. "I know that they are not capable of such a crime."
- You are confused, Fouquet, you contradict yourself. Just now you said that you did not know about your friends' plans. Consequently, no matter how well you knew them, your so-called friends, you still did not know what they were capable of. Now you declare that you know them so well that you can know exactly what they are capable of and what they are not capable of. A moment ago you called them former friends, and now you call them simply friends again! You are confused, Fouquet!
"This is a disaster," thought Fouquet in horror, taking out his handkerchief and wiping his forehead. "I am truly confused. Every word I say only harms me and my friends. It would have been better for me if d'Artagnan had arrested me two days ago. In that case, I would have been responsible only for my own fate, and no one else's. From the abyss in which I find myself now, such a state seems to me almost heavenly bliss!"
“I want to remind Your Majesty that a few hours ago I returned your freedom and saved your life,” Fouquet said in despair, hoping to appease the King.
“So, you yourself admitted that the conspirators attempted not only my freedom, but also my life,” concluded the King.
At that moment Fouquet would have liked to strangle himself with his own hands.
“If Monsieur d’Herblay had decided to kill Your Majesty, he could have done it as soon as he had kidnapped you and taken you out of my castle,” Fouquet said in despair.
The king turned pale as he thought of the danger he had been exposed to and had only narrowly escaped.
"If he had done so, it would have guaranteed him complete secrecy and complete impunity," continued Fouquet. "After that, no one and nothing could have returned everything to its original state. He did not encroach on royal blood, and this, I believe, gives him the right to mercy on your part. So pardon him, Your Majesty, in the name of the fact that he did not encroach on your life!"
Instead of admiring the magnanimity of Aramis, as Fouquet had so hoped, the King felt himself, on the contrary, deeply humiliated. He could not consider himself grateful for the preservation of anyone's life. His indomitable pride was debased by the very idea that anyone other than God himself had power over his life, could cut the thread of royal life. Everything that Fouquet considered as a weighty argument for clemency and pardon for his erring friends fell heavily on the scale of these people's sins in those scales of justice that governed the fickle feelings of the proud Louis XIV. Trying to appease the King, Fouquet added more and more arguments in favor of a death sentence for these people. They could not have found a worse advocate.
"The fate of these conspirators has been decided once and for all, I beg you not to discuss it with me any further," said the King in a tone that brooked no argument. "You can only help them by helping to capture them as quickly as possible, so that they cannot commit further crimes. So, where have they hidden themselves? Are you aware of this?"
“They are out of reach, Your Majesty,” Fouquet replied, feeling relieved by this.
"Did you let them go?" the King exclaimed.
"I could not detain them," replied Fouquet. "I advised Monsieur d'Herblay to retire to the castle of Belle-Ile."
- You have given the conspirators the fortress of Belle- Ile, which you dispose of as if it belonged to you personally? The fortress which, according to you, you fortified for me, and which you presented to me as a gift? You still call it yours?! - the King's anger seemed to have reached its climax.
“I hope this will keep them alive,” said Fouquet, more to himself than to the King.
"And this man held the post of Attorney General of France!" exclaimed the King.
“I am no longer the king’s prosecutor, Your Majesty,” Fouquet said submissively.
“Go, Fouquet,” replied the King, “but wait.”
The King remembered again that he was in Fouquet's castle, and that perhaps the superintendent had a backup plan, which consisted, for example, of arresting his King, this time not in his sleep, but in an open rebellion. Fouquet had enough servants and loyal people, including even soldiers and officers, to commit violence against the King, at least as long as he was in his castle. Therefore, Louis decided to convince Fouquet again of his goodwill.
“Do not judge my decisions regarding you by the ardor with which I ask you questions and comment on your answers,” he said in as gentle a tone as possible. “I am grateful to you for your assistance in restoring the rule of law. Captain d’Artagnan told me in your presence of your invaluable contribution to this action. I see that you opposed the conspirators, and in the end – very effectively. At present, you and Captain d’Artagnan are the people I trust more than anyone else, not to mention my gratitude to you for your actions. We will still discuss our further plans with you. Perhaps another promotion awaits you. At present, I do not have a first minister, and who, if not you, is more worthy of occupying this post? But everything in its time. First, we must weed out the weeds that have taken root in my Kingdom, and then we will carefully cultivate all that is good and noble that needs support, and on which we ourselves will rely in the further strengthening of the state. So do not let my tone confuse you, because, as you understand, a man who, as a result of an insidious and incomprehensibly illegal conspiracy, spent the night in the Bastille, deserves leniency for not controlling his emotions and allowing himself an irritated tone even when talking to someone who is his support and best friend.
Blinded by this eloquence, Fouquet was happy that the King had called him his friend. It did not occur to him that this was only hypocrisy, aimed at lulling Fouquet's vigilance and striking him at the very moment when he would be least prepared. Therefore, the superintendent of finances bowed to his King with an ostentatious courtesy and with the proper combination of solemnity and respect, left the residence of His Majesty.

XXII. Porthos in pursuit of the ducal title

Aramis and Porthos meanwhile were galloping as fast as they could towards the island of Belle-Ile. The poor giant thought he was galloping for the title of duke.
Several times Aramis was tempted to tell Porthos the real reason for their haste, but on reflection he decided that if he said they were fleeing, our good hero would probably turn his horse and ride in despair towards any danger, preferring to die in battle rather than retreat, no matter how many pursuers there were. Porthos was not familiar with the feeling of fear. Therefore, in order that Porthos would not waste time on the journey, Aramis said to him:
— Know that your duchy depends on our speed.
These words made Porthos urge his horse on as any other man would have urged him on if not only his life but his eternal salvation depended on it.
"I will become a duke!" cried Porthos. "And perhaps even a peer!"
“Forward!” cried Aramis, and the naive Porthos heard in these words a confirmation of his assumptions.
Fortunately, Porthos had a very strong and hardy horse under him, since not every horse could have withstood his weight, especially when the giant impatiently dug his spurs into his sides.
Unfortunately, they had to change horses, as no horses could gallop all day at the speed demanded of them by their impatient riders.
There was only one leg left to Blois.
“Let’s stop by Athos’s,” Aramis informed Porthos.
- Excellent! - exclaimed Porthos. - Let's embrace both him and Raoul!
“It is absolutely necessary,” agreed Aramis, who understood that another such opportunity might never present itself again.
“Are we bringing Athos some important proposal from His Majesty?” asked Porthos, admiring his own cleverness.
“Something of that sort,” replied Aramis.
"Not another word!" cried the naive Porthos. "I'll guess for myself."
- Excellent, my friend! - Aramis nodded. - Guess!
The sound of hoofbeats made Raoul, who was sitting sadly by the window, look into the distance. He probably expected some miracle, or he himself did not know what he was hoping for, but any travelers would be a change of events for him, and since he was in a state of complete devastation, any change would be, if not a joy, then certainly not harmful to him.
As soon as he recognized the travelers, he cried out with joy and hurried to meet them. A minute later, Raoul pressed Porthos to his chest, while Aramis and Athos also embraced and even kissed each other like old men.
"We are glad to see you, my friends," said Athos. "Judging by your haste, your destination is somewhere further. I am all the more grateful to you for making a detour to see us. How much time have we?" he asked, addressing himself only to Aramis.
“There is almost no time, my friend,” replied Aramis.
The Count glanced at Grimaud, but from his return glance he realized that orders were unnecessary, since Grimaud had already given orders for the table to be set.
“So you are in a hurry,” said Athos, after the friends had already had a light snack and seasoned their meal with a couple of glasses of Burgundy.
“We just dropped in to share the joy,” replied Porthos, continuing to grind the turkey leg with his powerful jaws as if it were a small lark.
"Well, congratulations, Porthos!" Athos replied, taking a sip of lingonberry water. "Whatever the reason for your joy, I am truly happy for you."
With these words, Athos looked silently at Aramis, whose gloomy expression informed him that Porthos's rosy mood had no basis. This caused another wrinkle to appear on Athos's noble forehead.
"What joy do you have?" asked Raoul, smiling, not suspecting what Athos immediately guessed.
“The King grants me the title of Duke,” Porthos whispered mysteriously in Raoul’s ear, and his whisper could be heard even in the next room.
“My dear Aramis, I have come across a curious icon about which I would like to know your opinion,” said Athos.
"Ah, icons!" muttered Porthos. "I prefer to get to know this capon and this Burgundian better."
Athos took the prelate by the arm, and they retired to the next room.
"Are you being pursued?" asked Athos.
“Certainly,” Aramis replied.
"You need our support. I will order Grimaud to saddle the horses and put muskets, powder, and bullets in the saddlebags," Athos quickly answered, but Aramis held him back by the arm.
“It is pointless, Count. This pursuit is not of such a nature that your help would change anything in its outcome,” the bishop objected.
“Then what happened?” asked Athos.
"I plotted against the King, and the plot failed," replied Aramis. "Porthos knows nothing, but he helped me, thinking that he was carrying out the King's orders, so we are state criminals, and they are undoubtedly hunting us."
“Can you give me the details?” Athos inquired.
“I can’t have any secrets from you,” Aramis lied, but catching Athos’s skeptical look, he added sincerely, “at least not now.”
After this, he briefly told a story already known to readers.
Aramis had hardly finished when Athos summed it up.
"It was a great design, Aramis," he said, "but also a great mistake.
— For which I am cruelly punished, Athos.
“We should have all four taken part in this matter, or we should have abandoned it altogether,” Athos continued.
"I could not count on your unconditional consent, Athos," Aramis replied regretfully. "On your consent and on d'Artagnan's consent."
"It only shows that you yourself understood that you had started a crime," Athos replied. "But the deed is done, and there is nothing to talk about. What do you propose to do next?"
“I am taking Porthos to Belle -Ile, and perhaps further, to Spain or England,” replied Aramis.
"You have lost an hour and a half to visit Raoul and me," Athos remarked. "It is madness, but I am grateful to you for it. Hurry!"
- Porthos! We are going! - cried Aramis.
He hugged Athos tightly again.
"Take care of yourself, Aramis, take care of Porthos," said Athos. "God bless you! Remember that you are always welcome here, with me. You may use here whatever you need."
“I know that, Count,” replied Aramis. “In conclusion, I would like to explain to you the reasons for my actions.”
“There is no time for excuses, Aramis, and I excuse you, if only because you are you, and your plans are your plans,” Athos replied. “I believe that your aim was to take revenge on the oppressor and restore the rights of the oppressed. You were ready to lay down your life for the rights of a prince of the blood, Aramis! I am proud of you. Go! Fresh horses are ready.”
"How long he has known me, and how little he understands me!" thought Aramis sadly. "He attributes to me extremely noble motives, simply because he himself could only act so decisively under the influence of such motives! Poor naive Athos! And how unhappy we shall be, deprived of the opportunity of listening to his moral teachings, so naive, so useless, but so uplifting!"
The friends embraced once more for the last time, after which Aramis and Porthos jumped into the saddles and disappeared in the direction of the island fortress of Belle-Ile.

XXIII. D'Artagnan in pursuit of Aramis and Porthos

D'Artagnan stopped twirling his right moustache and glanced at the wall clock. He had been sitting in the King's reception room for half an hour. Fouquet came out of the door, looking as if he had been crushed by an unbearable weight, but saved at the last second. Looking at d'Artagnan, he drew his head even more tightly into his shoulders and hurried away. The footman, hearing the ringing of the bell, entered the King's room, after which he came out almost immediately and addressed d'Artagnan:
- Captain, His Majesty asks you to come to him.
D'Artagnan stood up quickly, adjusted his sword belt and resolutely stepped into the King's office.
- Sir, you must go immediately to the island fortress of Belle-Ile-en-Mer, - said the King. - This fortress previously belonged to Monsieur Fouquet, but he gave it to me as a gift. Whether he did so or not, he did not inform some of the military leaders who remained in the fortress. Therefore, you must go to this fortress and accept it under my hand. In the event that you meet resistance, you must crush it.
“Yes, Your Majesty,” replied d’Artagnan. “How many people will go with me?”
"You will take with you as many troops as you need," the King replied. "You have no right to fail if the fortress resists. Even if the entire population of the island resists you, the fortress must be mine, and there must not be a single person left in it who is disobedient to my will."
" How much time do I have to get ready?" asked d'Artagnan.
"You must set out at once and move as quickly as possible," replied the King. "And you must not let the conspirators escape! You must arrest the Bishop of Vannes and the Baron du Valon. If they escape you, Captain, for no other reason than that you have shown a lack of promptness, I will consider you an accomplice to the conspiracy and a state criminal. If you carry out my orders properly, you will receive the marshal's baton.
"It takes a considerable amount of time to gather and deliver an army sufficient for a siege to the fortress, and a naval campaign requires your order, Your Majesty. Besides, the expenses..." d'Artagnan said, but the King interrupted him.
"You will receive the relevant papers, as well as the money, from Colbert in five minutes," he replied. "As for the time to get ready, do as you wish, but my order must be carried out."
After this the King waved his hand, indicating that the reception was over.
Hardly had d'Artagnan left the door of the King's study when Colbert crept in with soft steps. Five minutes later he came out and handed d'Artagnan the King's order, in which all troops, land and sea, were to obey Monsieur d'Artagnan, captain of the king's musketeers, acting by order of the King of France and for the good of France.
"I congratulate you, sir captain," said Colbert. "You are going to receive the baton of Marshal of France! However, it will not be easy to carry out the King's order."
"Do you think so?" asked d'Artagnan.
"The fortress of Belle-Ile is practically impregnable, it can only be attacked from the sea," answered Colbert. "In addition, the fortress is led by your friends, whom you must arrest. People like you, Monsieur d'Artagnan, do not easily step over friendship. Are you prepared to arrest your friends in order to succeed?"
" You seem to be asking me, Monsieur Colbert, whether I am prepared to carry out the King's orders?" d'Artagnan asked calmly. "In other words, you are asking me whether I have the right to occupy my position as captain of the king's musketeers?"
“I have not the slightest doubt that you will fulfill your duty, Captain,” Colbert replied with a smile.
"Prepare the money for this order that you have in your hands," d'Artagnan replied with a smile.
“You will receive the money from Monsieur Fouquet,” replied Colbert.
"A splendid idea!" cried d'Artagnan. "Fouquet must pay for the expedition against Fouquet's people."
“The order says nothing about the purpose of this advance,” Colbert said coldly. “Is there something that doesn’t suit you?”
"Everything suits me except the necessity of such a long conversation with you, Monsieur Colbert!" replied the captain. "Another time I would be happy to discuss with you the duty of friendship and the concept of a soldier's honor, but not today. I hasten to fulfill the King's order."
With these words, d'Artagnan went off to Fouquet for money, while Colbert returned to the King's office.
Ile to the ground in case of resistance, and to decide for himself which of the rebellious inhabitants of the fortress to execute and which to pardon; in addition, he was specifically ordered not to let a soul out of the fortress, and also to arrest the Bishop of Vannes and Baron du Valon.
"Colbert is right," thought d'Artagnan. "I am not the man to seize the opportunity to obtain the marshal's baton at the cost of the lives of my friends. But I am not one to willingly put my head in the noose. Well, I must be there before the others and assess the situation, after which we will see who wins this game of conscience and death."
Returning to the room where Lieutenant d'Arlencourt was waiting for him, d'Artagnan gave orders:
— D'Arlencourt, I am leaving immediately for Belle -Ile, accompanied by twenty musketeers. Look at this order. You must gather an army sufficient to besiege the fortress and follow me. If they do not obey you, go to Colbert and inform him of my order. He will issue you the necessary credentials, but I have no time to do this. I am leaving in five minutes.

XXIV. Belle-Ile-en-Mer

Aramis and Porthos, meanwhile, arrived at the fortress of Belle-Ile. Aramis believed that this fortress, fortified according to certain plans, had become virtually impregnable. Indeed, it could only be attacked from the sea, since the fortress was located on an island. But, as is well known, the French troops were not very lucky in naval battles. In the event of support from England, this island fortress could well become English, despite its proximity to the shores of France. By skillfully balancing on the contradictions of the two countries, the sovereign who reigned here could, in the end, achieve independence from both powers between which he was located. By fortifying Belle- Ile, Fouquet, in essence, built his own small state, in which, in case of danger, he could save himself even from the persecution of such a strong King as the King of France.
Since the Bishop of Vannes and the Baron du Valon were frequent guests in this fortress, and even partly its creators, the commandant of the fortress recognized them as friends of the superintendent of finances, Monsieur Fouquet, and in his absence, in fact, his representatives. Therefore, Aramis and Porthos felt themselves masters of Belle -Ile, especially since Fouquet supplied Aramis with a corresponding letter, ordering the commandant to receive the Bishop of Vannes as Fouquet himself and to obey him in everything, including military matters.
Porthos was completely calm, while Aramis noticed the disappearance of any ships at sea. They had all disappeared, down to the last fishing boat. This indicated a hidden serious reason, and this reason, Aramis realized, could only be the King's order forbidding any ships to leave the ports of France.
"Here we are already in isolation," thought Aramis. "We must wait for the arrival of warships, after which we will have the opportunity to test the strength of Belle -Ile's fortifications, the range of its guns and the accuracy of its gunners."
He remembered how King Charles I, at Buckingham's request, had forbidden all ships to leave England in order to prevent Milady from leaving England with the two diamond pendants stolen from Buckingham. This ban, of course, had not stopped Milady or the four friends who were carrying out Queen Anne's orders. Aramis was not sad because Louis XIV had declared a hunt for him and Porthos, of which he had no doubt. He was sorry that he had drawn Porthos into these games. If there had been four of them, not two, then they would not have been afraid of the King's wrath. Together they had stood up to both Richelieu and Mazarin, and these men were both smarter and more experienced than the young King!
"Listen, Aramis!" said Porthos suddenly. "Don't you think the sea looks a little strange?"
“Too calm?” Aramis asked absentmindedly.
"That's not the point!" said Porthos. "I look at him and I can't figure out what exactly is unusual about him, but I'm ready to swear that there's something wrong with him!"
"Are the seagulls screaming too much?" Aramis smiled.
- No, that's not it! Seagulls always scream when they see fishermen, - Porthos said doubtfully. - Wait a minute! Where are all the fishermen? I don't see a single boat!
“There are probably few fish in the sea today,” Aramis replied in an indifferent tone.
“I don’t see a connection between the amount of fish in the sea and the number of boats with fishermen,” Porthos shrugged his shoulders in bewilderment.
"What should fishermen do in the sea where there are no fish?" Aramis sneered.
“That’s it,” said Porthos. “You seem to be right. Fishermen catch fish, and when the fish run out, they swim away to where there are still fish left.”
“You see, Porthos, how simple it all is?” Aramis smiled.
“Where are all the other ships then?” Porthos asked five minutes later.
“What do you mean, Porthos?” asked the prelate.
"Well, there are not only fishing ships," du Valon said uncertainly. "There are merchant ships, customs ships, military ships, finally?"
“What is all this for?” continued Aramis.
- You have to look at something when you're walking by the sea! - Porthos was surprised. - Otherwise, what's the point of such a walk?
“Breathe in the fresh sea air and admire the waves, the seagulls…” Aramis answered absentmindedly, stubbornly peering into the distance.
“But that’s not what’s strange,” Porthos persisted. “The two sailboats that I sent to the mainland for beef, pork and other provisions, they didn’t return either, and it’s time for at least one of them to return!”
Aramis suddenly screamed and stopped dead in his tracks.
- Repeat, Porthos, what did you say? You sent both of our sailboats to the mainland?!
“You know, Aramis, I can’t live on fish and chicken all the time, I want something more substantial,” Porthos answered simply. “Besides, you just said that the fish is gone! Do you see how prudent I am? Soon they’ll bring some real food here, so that we can at least eat like normal people, if we have to hang around on this damned island where I’m simply dying of boredom!”
- Unhappy man! You should at least have consulted me! You should have left at least one sailboat! What have you done, my God! - exclaimed the bishop. - We have no choice left, we cannot sail to England or Spain.
- And thank God! - answered Porthos. - I can't stand sea voyages!
"We are lost!" said Aramis, and burst out laughing. "Porthos wanted veal and pork! I will owe my death to your appetite!"
- Died? - Porthos was surprised. - Is the food supply so bad here? What's the matter with such despondency, Aramis? At worst, fish and chicken will do, I swear I'm not picky, if that's how things turned out, just don't worry about such trifles.
Aramis smiled sadly.
"I had planned a little sea excursion for today, but it must now be postponed indefinitely, my dear Porthos," replied Aramis. "We are now locked up on this island."
"It's only until our sailboats return," Porthos replied guiltily. "Not so long to wait, I suppose."
“My dear Porthos,” he replied with a sigh, “it seemed to me that you were bored on this island, and I was planning to leave it altogether in a few days.”
“Aren’t we expecting some important order from the King that you keep telling me about?” Porthos asked in surprise.
- An order? - Aramis asked, puzzled. - Oh, yes! An order. Of course, we are waiting for an order. But it will come soon.
- Damn it, he won't fly in! Since we are on the island, that means the King's order will be brought by ship, - Porthos reasoned. - And that means we will be able to leave the island on the very ship that will bring us the King's order!
"Your logic is impeccable," Aramis replied. "We can indeed sail back on the very ship that will bring us the King's order."
“With shackles on my legs and arms,” Aramis added mentally, “straight to the Bastille, or somewhere even worse!”
- If you are so impatient to return, we can get a canoe. There are canoes here, - said Porthos. - I can get us a canoe, I noticed one here recently. It will be suitable for a sea trip, and it can even take us to the shores of France.
- A shuttle? To France? No, that's a bad idea, - Aramis objected decisively. - Not there and not on such a means!
Porthos shrugged and began to watch the seagulls, as Aramis had advised him.
"Porthos!" said Aramis suddenly, sharply. "I have something to tell you about our affairs at Vaud."
- But you have already told me everything! - the giant was surprised. - An impostor made an attempt on our good King. We captured him and put him in the Bastille. It was a delicate matter, since the impostor vaguely resembled the King, although, you know, I did not see any resemblance! Our King is so noble, his posture, his suit and all that, you know! And this miserable little man, whom we tied up and took to the Bastille, is not fit to hold a candle to our glorious Louis XIV. What can I add here? What is there to talk about?
“ There is much to talk about,” Aramis replied with a sigh. “But it seems you are not quite ready for it.”
"I understand, Aramis," replied Porthos. "You think that the prisoner could have escaped from the Bastille and raised a rebellion? In that case, we must hurry to the aid of the King!"
"Porthos, do you see the ship?" Aramis interrupted Porthos. "Isn't that a sail?"
- A ship! - Porthos rejoiced. - And not just one! I see four! No, there are more! Bah! There's a whole fleet here! And you're attacking me because of a couple of sailboats!
"Yes, Porthos. These are ships of the royal navy!" Aramis replied, his voice trembling. "Warships!"
"So we're not in danger of dying of hunger!" Porthos rejoiced. "After all, dried fish isn't the only thing found on warships!"
"You are right, Porthos! We have no reason to fear death from hunger. The King will not allow it," the Bishop of Vannes said gloomily.
"We'll have suckling pig with horseradish for dinner tonight!" Porthos said dreamily.
- To hell with the pig, Porthos! - cried Aramis. - Porthos, sound the alarm! Gunners to action! Your voice is louder than mine, shout it, Porthos! And let us hasten to the fortress.
- Alarm? But why alarm? - Porthos was surprised.
- Because these are the ships of the rebel whom you and I placed in the Bastille. Your prediction has come true, Porthos!
“How did you find out about this?” Porthos was surprised.
"Think for yourself! Do the king's ships go to the fortress belonging to the King with their battle flags raised and their loopholes open?" exclaimed Aramis, dragging Porthos onto the fortress walls.
By order of Aramis, the fortress was brought into combat readiness.
Meanwhile, a boat sailed away from the flagship under a white flag.
"Don't shoot the parliamentarian!" Aramis commanded.
When the boat reached the shore, it turned out that the role of the parliamentarian was played by the captain of one of the sailing ships, whom Porthos had sent for food.
"What's going on, Captain?" Aramis asked.
“ I was captured, brought here and given a package for you, Monsignor,” the envoy replied.
Aramis recognized d'Artagnan's handwriting as soon as he glanced at the envelope. Aramis immediately opened it and read the following:

"The King's orders are to seize Belle-Ile. Exterminate the garrison if there is resistance. Arrest all soldiers in the garrison.
Arrest the Bishop of Vannes and Baron du Valon and transport them to the Bastille.
Signed: d'Artagnan."

Aramis turned pale and crumpled the paper in his hand.
"What did Monsieur d'Artagnan tell me to tell us verbally?" asked Aramis.
“He invites you to his ship for negotiations,” the parliamentarian replied.
- Here we are again! - Porthos rejoiced. - My dear d'Artagnan has come to us!
With these words he jumped onto the parapet of the fortress and began waving both hands, shouting:
- D'Artagnan! We are here, d'Artagnan! It's Porthos and Aramis!
"Sit down and be quiet!" cried Aramis sharply. "Sit down and listen, I tell you!"
“It’s d’Artagnan!” Porthos continued to rejoice, embracing Aramis by the shoulders with his heavy arm.
But Aramis covered his mouth with his hand.
"Are you mad?" he hissed at Porthos. "If it were d'Artagnan, why would he send a messenger to us? He could have come himself, without fearing anything! Who can guarantee that this is not a trap?"
The smile slid off Porthos's face.
"A trap?" Porthos whispered. "By whom?"
"From the one they don't talk about," said Aramis in a conspiratorial tone, putting his finger to his lips. "The man from the bed."
“So that’s it,” said the naive Porthos. “What shall we do?”
“We invite Monsieur d’Artagnan to negotiate with us,” he said, turning to the envoy. “Is that right, Monsieur Baron?”
- Of course! - Porthos answered joyfully. - We are always glad to see Monsieur d'Artagnan, wherever we are!
"Go and get an answer!" said Aramis to the envoy. "Let the envoy pass! Don't shoot!"
The boat with the envoy sailed towards the ship, and Aramis put his hand on Porthos's shoulder.
“We need to have a serious talk, Porthos, and clarify some of the specifics of our situation,” he said.

XXV. Colbert's Cunning

“Listen, Porthos, I am a scoundrel who has deceived you,” began Aramis.
"Are we preparing a prank?" Porthos smiled. "We'll play a joke on d'Artagnan."
“I deceived you, Porthos, I drew you into a state crime,” said Aramis, emphasizing each word with his voice.
- You deceived me? Why? - Porthos smiled.
“At that moment I thought it would be better this way,” Aramis answered, embarrassed.
“You did this for my good?” Porthos continued.
“At the time it seemed so to me, Porthos, although in reality everything turned out to be completely different,” the prelate replied.
"Can you be held responsible for the fact that your hopes were not fulfilled?" Porthos asked naively. "After all, if we start holding a person accountable for the fact that his hopes were not fulfilled, then we will all be guilty!"
“But as a result of my miscalculations you may suffer very much, Porthos!” continued Aramis, despairing that Porthos did not wish to understand the full extent of Aramis’s guilt before him.
"If you only knew how many times I suffered because my hopes were not fulfilled! What a thing!" Porthos burst out laughing.
“It’s my fault that you are now a state criminal!” exclaimed Aramis.
"And when d'Artagnan and I broke into Mazarin's treasury, who were we then? And nothing, we're alive and well!" Porthos smiled disarmingly.
"Oh, Lord, give me patience!" cried Aramis. "But understand, Porthos, that I have drawn you into a conspiracy! We have kidnapped the real King and replaced him with his twin brother!"
"That must have been a fine trick!" Porthos chuckled. "That's not like knocking down a bull!"
“But we rebelled against the King!” Aramis cried in despair.
“I believe you,” Porthos answered seriously. “If you have encroached on the royal power, it means that...”
“Yes, a thousand times yes, that means we are criminals!” exclaimed Aramis.
"It means that you have realized that our King is not as good as they say," replied Porthos. "I believe you, Aramis. After all, you consulted d'Artagnan, and he advised you to do this?"
- I didn't consult anyone! I decided this alone, I, and no one else! - Aramis said wearily. - And therefore the responsibility for this crime lies with me alone!
- Well, now it's between the two of us, - Porthos objected coolly. - So, goodbye, piglet and horseradish? We won't be fed properly either today or tomorrow, that damn fish again?
"Soon there may not even be any fish," Aramis waved his hand. "How would you like a menu consisting of bread and water?"
- At least some variety. First bread, then water! - Porthos answered calmly and winked. - Still, it would be better with a pig and a bottle of Burgundy!
“We will most likely be executed,” Aramis said resignedly.
"They're going to execute us, you say?" Porthos laughed again. "We had a great time last time!"
"Oh, Porthos, my dear Porthos, I won't let that happen!" Aramis almost howled. "I promise I'll find a way to save myself, believe me."
“So that’s why you were so upset that I sent away both sailboats?” asked Porthos, wrinkling his forehead.
“Alas!” answered Aramis.
"Then we are even, for not only have you deceived me, but I have also let you down. Forgive me, Aramis!" Porthos said sincerely and looked regretfully into the bishop's eyes.
"This is unbearable! You are a saint, Porthos!" cried Aramis. "I expected you to be indignant and swear."
"What's the use of swearing when the deed is done?" asked Porthos simply. "We have our swords with us, don't we? Therefore we will sell our lives dearly!"
“Oh, Porthos, dear Porthos!” was all Aramis could say.
"You mean that I will not be a duke and a peer?" Porthos said indifferently. "It's nothing, don't think about it. I've already forgotten about it."
"My friend, if it depended on me, you would become a prince!" said Aramis sincerely.
"I prefer to remain Porthos!" replied Porthos. "So I have finally fallen out with Louis XIV? And he will no longer invite me to dinner?"
"I acted like a complete egoist," replied Aramis. "You are not obliged to forgive me."
“Come on,” Porthos interrupted. “You acted solely in your own interests, just like everyone else on earth. I can’t be angry with you for not being a saint. And that’s enough about that.”
With these words, Porthos shook his old friend's hand, causing him to almost cry out.
- Forgive me! I again did not measure my strength. - Porthos was embarrassed.
"It was I who did not measure my strength. It is I who must ask your forgiveness," replied Aramis.
“You received it a long time ago,” Porthos waved it off.
Aramis felt tears welling up in his eyes. Porthos's nobility was even greater than Fouquet's, who had rushed to save the King, knowing that it would only bring him trouble, but who had not wavered in his decision for a second.
Porthos did nothing, he simply forgave his friend for the simple reason that he considered him his friend. Aramis hugged Porthos tightly, trying to hide his tears.
"Listen, Porthos," said Aramis, "you are the unfortunate victim of a deception into which I have led you. You are not the King's enemy. The blame lies entirely with me, and I am the only one to blame in this matter, so I believe you are in no danger. With d'Artagnan's intercession, you will easily be reconciled with the King."
“Even I won’t believe this fairy tale,” Porthos calmly objected. “You and I are in an equal position and our fate will be the same.”
"We will both be arrested and executed," Aramis shrugged. "The fortress is good, but it will not withstand a siege in which the entire royal fleet under the command of d'Artagnan is participating."
- D'Artagnan! - exclaimed Porthos. - It is he who commands the fleet! He will let us go.
"He received orders to arrest us," Aramis shook his head. "I believe his career and his life itself depend on how he carries out this order."
"And for such a trifle d'Artagnan will betray our friendship?" Porthos was surprised. "Would you really do that in his place?"
At these simple words of Porthos, Aramis blushed deeply.
“But he agreed to lead the pursuit of us!” exclaimed Aramis.
“Of course, to give us the opportunity to escape!” Porthos objected without a shadow of a doubt.
“It’s hard to predict what exactly he’s up to,” Aramis shook his head doubtfully. “D’Artagnan is d’Artagnan.”
- Very accurately said! - d'Artagnan's voice was heard. - I am I, do not doubt it!
With these words, the captain of the musketeers appeared before them, arriving in a boat that they had not noticed due to their heated discussions.
"You are waiting for me on the shore, friends! How nice!" he exclaimed, easily jumping out of the boat onto the pier.
Quickly, like a twenty-year-old, he ran up the stone stairs to the landing, where he was met by two friends. After him, not so quickly, but almost keeping up with him, an officer climbed the stairs.
D'Artagnan stopped halfway. His companion did the same.
Seeing that d'Artagnan was accompanied by only one officer, Aramis felt ashamed to meet him with a guard and ordered everyone except Porthos to leave. d'Artagnan nodded and turned to his companion:
- Sir, despite the King's order, which places the entire fleet at my disposal, you have disobeyed my order. I am prepared to acknowledge your superiority on your ship only within certain limits. This is not a ship of the Royal Navy, so I ask you to retire to the boat, since I will have confidential negotiations with the enemy.
"Sir," replied the officer, "I have scrupulously carried out the orders given to me before sailing. I was ordered to follow you everywhere and not to allow any negotiations with the enemy without my being informed of the content of these negotiations. That is precisely what I am doing."
D'Artagnan trembled with anger.
"Sir," he said quietly but distinctly, "it seems to me that you have twenty pockets, and in each of them lie ten orders that bind me hand and foot. Meanwhile, I have received from the hands of the King the highest powers in all branches of the army, land and sea, which I believe I informed you of immediately upon my arrival on your ship and gave you to read this order from the first letter to the last!"
"Captain," replied the officer, "the orders I have received do not in any way contradict the orders you have received. You have been instructed to command us, and I have been instructed to accompany you at all times, not going further than one fathom."
- Sir, - continued d'Artagnan, - I care no more for you, nor for the orders which Monsieur Colbert has given you! I have been insulted! In my whole life I have only been really angry six times, and in five previous cases it ended in the death of the one who angered me, and only in one case did the man manage to escape and hide behind a secret door! I see no walls here, therefore there are no secret doors. Therefore nothing will prevent me from stabbing you with my sword like a beetle!
The officer turned pale, but answered calmly:
- Sir, you can kill me, but my assistant has orders for this case. If you return to the flagship in this boat without me, then you will be immediately arrested for dueling in wartime, and my assistant will lead the entire operation to capture the fortress.
Porthos and Aramis watched this dramatic scene with bated breath.
D'Artagnan, having regained control of himself, approached the officer closely.
- Sir, besides the fact that you should be no further than a fathom from me, do you have any additional instructions?
“In all other respects I must obey you completely, Captain,” was the answer.
"Then be at ease!" cried d'Artagnan.
The officer stood at attention.
"Porthos, cover this young man's ears with your hands, but be careful not to crush his head," said d'Artagnan. "I need him alive and unharmed!"
Porthos pressed his plump palms so tightly to the officer's ears that he began to fear that his head would crack like a dry nut under the hooves of a young stallion.
- Be careful, Porthos, can't you see he's barely alive? - smiled d'Artagnan - Be gentle. So, the officer hasn't moved more than a fathom away from me, all orders are being carried out, all conditions are met.
Aramis and d'Artagnan embraced, after which d'Artagnan also embraced Porthos.
"I did not expect to be so helpless!" d'Artagnan said sadly. "Nominally leading the campaign, I am, in fact, only a puppet in the hands of Colbert! But let us hasten to talk."
“What do these strictnesses mean?” asked Porthos.
“Porthos knew nothing about it, he was only the executor of my will,” Aramis hastened to report.
D'Artagnan cast a reproachful glance at the prelate, which made Aramis feel uneasy.
" The devil take it!" cried d'Artagnan. "I had such a plan that is falling apart at the seams! I wanted to take you both on board my ship and take you wherever you wanted, and then return to the King, and come what may. But now I suppose that in that case I would simply be added to you, and all three of us would be dragged to the King in chains.
"That won't do!" exclaimed Porthos.
At the same time, he absentmindedly squeezed the officer's head a little tighter, so that d'Artagnan had to shout, "Be careful, Porthos!"
 
“There is only one thing left,” said d’Artagnan, “I will begin the attack in this place.”
He took from his cuff a map of the fortress which he had drawn during his previous visit. Aramis was amazed at how accurate the map was. The place d'Artagnan had pointed out was one of the most inaccessible places, while from the outside it might have seemed a very good place for an assault.
"This will allow you to escape in the confusion that has begun," continued d'Artagnan. "At least prepare a canoe for yourself, since if not me, then Colbert's spies, I guarantee, will turn over every stone on the island to find you."
- Hide? - exclaimed Porthos. - Retreat? Never. Isaac du Valon de Pierrefonds de Bracieux never retreated!
"Porthos, are you going to fight against d'Artagnan?" Aramis was surprised.
“By no means!” exclaimed Porthos.
“You will not retreat, but will conduct a lengthy reconnaissance with the goal of occupying a more strategically advantageous position and preventing encirclement and subsequent capture,” explained d’Artagnan.
“That’s a different matter!” Porthos calmed down. “This is acceptable in combat.”
"There is another option, however," said d'Artagnan. "That scoundrel Colbert has filled the ship with his spies, who have all sorts of orders restricting my actions. I will feign irritation, resign my powers, and while they find a replacement for me, you will have at least a day to escape."
“That could work!” Aramis nodded.
“Now, Porthos, let the officer go,” said d’Artagnan.
- At ease, sir! - d'Artagnan ordered the officer. - And accept from us a thousand apologies for the inconvenience caused to you by the strong embrace of Baron du Valon. You reminded him of one of his favorite nephews, and he could not restrain his outburst of love. In a few days your ears will not hurt. You have not broken orders, and I have not broken any orders.
“And I, as a bishop, forgive you your sins, if there were any,” Aramis continued. “Your path to heaven is assured.”
“However, don’t rush into this,” d’Artagnan winked. “At least until you and I return to the ship!”
Having boarded the ship, d'Artagnan assembled a council of war from the captains of the squadron entrusted to him.
" Gentlemen, I have offered the rebels to surrender, but they have refused," he said. "I intend to invite the two chief officers of the rebel fortress to negotiate on the flagship. We will demonstrate our forces to them, after which I hope to persuade them to surrender. Do you agree with me, gentlemen?"
At these words, the officer who had accompanied d'Artagnan to the shore took from his pocket a sealed packet bearing the number "1" and handed it to d'Artagnan.
D'Artagnan tore open the package with distrust, took out and unfolded the paper and read:

"Prohibition for Mr. d'Artagnan to conduct any negotiations until Belle- Ile has surrendered and all prisoners have been shot.
Signed: Louis."

D'Artagnan could hardly contain his indignation, but, having mastered himself, he answered with the most amiable smile:
- Excellent, sir. I see that all difficulties have been provided for! - he said.
Then, after thinking for a moment, d'Artagnan feigned anger and exclaimed:
— Gentlemen! — turning to the assembled officers. — I see that I have lost the confidence of His Majesty! The order entrusting me with extraordinary powers is simply a worthless piece of paper! People much lower in rank than I have in their pockets numerous orders canceling it! I would not be surprised if the last sailor on this ship also has some instructions on my account! Well, I resign my command, and we are returning to the shores of France. You will be appointed a new commander-in-chief, who, I hope, will not be bound hand and foot by numerous packages of numbers and orders! In that case, he will probably do what I see no way of doing myself. We are returning, gentlemen!
At the same time, d'Artagnan was almost certain that the time he had thus given his friends would be sufficient for them to disappear in an unknown direction.
But the same officer pulled out an envelope numbered "2", containing an order that read:

"Should Monsieur d'Artagnan express a desire to resign his commission, to remove him from command and deliver him to the King's disposal, the officer who holds this order is instructed to undertake the mission entrusted to Monsieur d'Artagnan, who is to be considered from this moment on as the head of the expedition, the commander of the troops sent against Belle- Ile, and to complete the mission of taking the fortress and arresting or executing the rebels.
Signed: Louis."

“If I put this order in my pocket,” thought d’Artagnan, “no one will know its contents, and then come what may!”
At that very moment he saw that all the officers around him were reading the same order, copies of which this officer had distributed to them.
"Sir," bowed the same fatal officer who had approached him, "you must immediately go to shore with these four officers. A boat awaits you."
- Gentlemen! - he addressed all those present. - You have been informed of the King's order. From this moment on, I command the storming of the fortress.
"Well, Monsieur Colbert," d'Artagnan said to himself, "you have won this battle. Will you be able to win the war against me?"
And he went down into the boat, accompanied by four officers.

XXVI. The Cave of Locmaria

After parting with d'Artagnan, Aramis and Porthos went to the main fort.
“So, Porthos,” said the prelate, “d’Artagnan, at the cost of his career, gives us a day.”
“What will this give us?” asked Porthos.
"Do you remember Lokmary's dungeon?" continued Aramis. "The very one where we ambushed the foxes so many times. There's a pretty good launch hidden at the exit of that dungeon. True, it still needs to be rolled down to the sea, but there are rollers there that it was rolled on."
“In that case, I alone can manage to roll it down to the sea,” Porthos answered serenely.
"Excellent! We'll put to sea in it this very night!" cried Aramis.
“Where are we going?” asked Porthos.
“Anywhere, just away from France,” replied Aramis.
"Are we leaving France forever?" asked Porthos.
“We will probably return to it, but for that we must escape from Colbert’s hands tomorrow,” the prelate replied. “We will return to France as victors, Porthos, have no doubt!”
Suddenly the sound of cannon fire reached the friends, after which a cry was heard in the fortress:
— To arms! To arms!
Aramis opened the window and turned pale.
"They are attacking!" he said. "Our friend d'Artagnan has apparently been arrested, and another man is commanding the attack! They are attacking in a completely different place than d'Artagnan intended! This place was chosen most successfully, we will not hold out for long.
Porthos jumped to his feet, but suddenly cried out in pain.
"What's the matter, Porthos?" Aramis asked anxiously.
- Nothing. My legs. This is the first time this has happened to me! - said Porthos. - Give me a minute, it will pass.
He began to furiously massage his legs with his strong hands. A minute later, Porthos jumped up as if nothing had happened and rushed into battle.
While Aramis fired his arquebus at the officers, Porthos loaded the cannons with heavy iron balls as if they were balls of straw. The cannons fired incessantly, piercing the sides of the ships. For a while, the besieged were given a respite, since the commanding officer realized that if this continued, he could lose all his ships. The ships were withdrawn out of range to patch up the holes, pump out the water, and prepare for a new attack.
At that moment, an officer ran up to Aramis and reported that the attack had also been carried out in other places of the fortress. The attackers had broken through to the island in many places and were advancing towards the citadel.
“It is a soldier’s duty to stand to the last,” said Aramis. “But this battle is special; we are being attacked by our own countrymen. Therefore, I do not order the attack to be completely repelled at all costs. But if you hold out for another half hour, I will not ask more of you. After that, you may do as you see fit. If you could obtain this reprieve through negotiations, that would be even better.”
After these words, Aramis released the officer.
"Well, Porthos," said Aramis excitedly, "there is now that bustle in the fortress in which we must carry out a lengthy reconnaissance in order to occupy a more strategically advantageous position and avoid being surrounded and subsequently captured! The launch is waiting for us, in the cave of Locmaria!"
With these words, Aramis opened a drawer of the table, took out a weighty gold box, and poured two handfuls of diamonds from it into Porthos's pockets, leaving for himself only a couple of rings with large emeralds, he contemptuously threw the box away.
"On the road, friend Porthos! Quickly!" shouted the prelate, dragging Porthos along with him.
Hiding from prying eyes, Aramis and Porthos finally reached a deep cave, to the exit of which Aramis had prudently ordered a good barge to be rolled on rollers.
"Porthos, let me go first," said Aramis. "There are three Breton servants waiting for us in the cave, and you don't know the signal, without which you risk getting a bullet or a sword thrust."
Having found all three at the appointed place, Aramis ordered one of them to go for Porthos.
As soon as everyone was gathered together, they headed towards the hidden barge.
The barge was supplied with provisions, water and weapons; in a word, it was ready for a long voyage.
"There are two ways to lower the barge to the sea," said one of the servants. "We dragged it along the top, the descent there is smooth, nothing will hinder us."
“But they might see us, and then everything would be lost!” objected Aramis.
"Another way is along the bed of this cave," said the same servant, "but at the end of the cave lies a large stone that has recently fallen from above. It will prevent us from pulling the barge out to sea unless we remove it."
"I have seen that stone!" said Porthos. "I will remove it alone if necessary."
- Monsignor! It will take at least ten men to move this stone! - objected the servant.
"You're right," agreed Aramis, "we'll try to drag the launch along the top. But we'll have to wait until dark."
Suddenly the barking of dogs was heard.
“It’s a pack,” Porthos remarked, “the dogs are following the fox’s trail.”
"Who hunts in such troubled times?" exclaimed Aramis.
“Probably the one who considers this time and place most suitable for hunting!” Porthos concluded thoughtfully.
“The King’s guards, tired of looting and violence, can afford to amuse themselves with hunting,” said Aramis with knowledge of the matter.
“Guards!” said one of the servants, who cautiously peered out of the cave.
At that moment, the fox, escaping from pursuit, ran into the cave, and the dogs ran after her, filling the entire cave with loud barking.
"Oh, damn it!" cried Aramis. "Our hiding place has been discovered!"
“That’s true,” agreed Porthos. “ But if none of the dogs return from the cave to the top, the guards will hardly find the entrance to the cave in this darkness.”
“Then we must kill them all, and silently,” answered the bishop. “Let’s get down to business!”
The Bretons rushed forward with knives in their hands, and in a few minutes the dogs were finished.
“Good,” Aramis said coldly. “Now it’s the hosts’ turn.”
“How many are there?” asked Porthos.
“There are sixteen of them,” answered one of the Bretons.
“I hope they are well armed,” Porthos smiled with a smile, “I hate long reconnaissance without reconnaissance in force!”
"We can handle that," said Aramis. "Their eyes are unaccustomed to the darkness, while we can see perfectly well. Get everything ready - muskets and daggers."
The guards who arrived, despite the darkness, discovered the entrance to the cave. For some time they did not dare to enter it.
"Our dogs have all disappeared!" one of them exclaimed. "It is dark in the cave, and we have no lanterns. Perhaps there is a sharp, deep cliff there, into which all our dogs have fallen?"
The guards were about to leave, but one of them suddenly said:
- A fox hid in this cave. If there had been an abyss there, the fox would have known about it and would not have run there.
"Where did the dogs go?" asked another guard.
- The cave is probably very long and has many bends, and their barking is simply not heard by us. They continue to pursue the fox. Are we really going to leave our dogs here and return home empty-handed? - the first guard continued to convince the others.
“He’s right!” said one of the guards, apparently the senior in rank, at last. “Let’s go inside!”
At these words, six guardsmen cautiously entered the cave one after another. The ten who remained outside listened tensely to the sounds of their footsteps. Suddenly they heard strange sounds, either wheezing or snorting, after which everything became silent.
"It looks like there really is some kind of hole there," said the officer. "But we can't leave our comrades without help. Here's what we'll do! We'll tie ourselves with some kind of rope and go down in a chain, insuring each other."
Since there was no rope to be found, the guardsmen decided to hold each other's hands, forming a human chain. As soon as the fourth guard in the chain disappeared into the darkness, a deafening roar was heard and the smell of gunpowder began.
"Damn it, it's an ambush!" shouted the senior officer. "We'll smoke them out of there, whoever they are, even if it's the devil himself!"
Aramis and Porthos, supported by the three Bretons, would of course have easily dealt with all sixteen guardsmen. Ten of them were already dead.
But the guards unexpectedly received reinforcements.
Meanwhile, the fugitives, taking advantage of the confusion in the enemy camp, almost rolled the launch to the very exit of the cave to the sea. While Porthos pushed the launch, three Bretons took turns putting rollers under it, and the work went smoothly.

Soon they managed to drag the barge to a large stone that blocked the saving exit to the sea.
Porthos, like an ancient titan, leaned his shoulders against the top of the stone and pushed it forward with all his might. After the third attempt, the stone was moved, and after the fifth push, it rolled down, opening the way for the launch to the sea and for the five fugitives to freedom.
The Bretons and Porthos dragged the barge across the last stretch into the ocean, while Aramis, with muskets at the ready, covered their retreat.
Just at this time, a reinforcement detachment arrived.
Aramis, having counted the arrivals, realized the futility of further fighting. The forces were too unequal. To engage in battle would be death, but to launch into the sea, opening the enemy access to the cave, would be equally reckless.
"Porthos, we have only one way out!" cried Aramis.
- Excellent! - answered Porthos. - That's exactly one more than none! Quite enough! What does it consist of?
"How far can you throw this keg of gunpowder?" asked Aramis, pointing to a heavy keg half a muid high.
“Probably twelve to fifteen meters,” the giant answered.
- I'll light the fuse, and when I shout "go!", throw it as far as you can.
"I'm ready!" replied Porthos. "Set fire!"
"Don't forget to duck as soon as you throw it!" cried Aramis. "Attention! Go!"
Porthos threw the barrel away with all his might and ducked behind a high rock. There was a deafening roar. The vaults of the cave above the barrel's fall collapsed. The passage through which the guards had pursued the fugitives was firmly blocked, the fugitives were saved.
Porthos, who had thrown this keg of gunpowder into the midst of the enemy and created incredible chaos in the cave, resumed his reconnaissance, that is, he began to catch up with Aramis and the Bretons. Only six of his enormous leaps separated him from the exit of the cave, when suddenly he felt his knees buckling again and his legs refusing to obey him.
Aramis could not understand what made Porthos stop. He cried out:
- Come on, Porthos, hurry up!
“I can’t!” Porthos shouted back.
With his hands he tried to lift his legs and make them obey their master, but in vain. Finally, grabbing the walls of the cave with his hands, he stood up on legs that did not obey him at all.
Aramis finally realized what had happened.
"Wait, someone will help you now!" he shouted.
Realizing that he alone could not lift Porthos, and that leaving the barge unattended once it was launched was also impossible, he sent the Bretons to help Porthos.
The brave Bretons jumped out of the launch and rushed to the aid of the giant, but at that moment a huge stone, twice as large as the one that our giant had so recently crushed from its age-old place, slowly slid down from the edge of the cave.
"Beware!" Aramis shouted to Porthos and the Bretons, but it was too late.
The huge rock slid down and blocked Porthos' exit, after which it collapsed inside the cave, apparently burying the glorious Baron du Valon forever. Aramis saw Porthos's mighty body disappear under the boulder falling on him.
Aramis's heart seemed to burst and break in two. He almost lost consciousness.
Without remembering himself, he collapsed without strength to the bottom of the Barkas, and hot tears flowed from his eyes down his thin, wrinkled cheeks.
- Porthos! Porthos! - he repeated in despair. - Porthos, I have ruined you! Woe is me!
The prelate's eyes darkened and he lost consciousness.
At that very moment shots were heard from the shore. Those guardsmen who had not perished in the explosion of the cave had climbed out through its upper entrance and were running on horseback to the ocean shore. There was no time to waste, two Bretons quickly sat down at the oars, while the third hurried to unfurl the sail, after which the launch rushed into the ocean, and the musket balls of the guardsmen could no longer reach it and cause any harm to the fugitives.

XXVII. At Sea

For over an hour the boat was carried away from the island. Aramis, seemingly indifferent to his fate, lay in despair at the bottom of the boat, not paying attention to the splashes of salt water that splashed his face and clothes.
For the first time in his life, Aramis sang a song, as if in delirium. He sang it without moving his lips, he sang it in his mind. He hated this song, Porthos had invented it during the storming of La Rochelle. He sang it in moments of inspiration, and each time he irritated Aramis with his loud and clumsy singing. The words of the song seemed stupid to Aramis, and the tune inappropriate. Now he hummed the song quietly, so that no one but him could hear it. It sounded in his head. Aramis even thought he heard the voice of the restless Porthos:

"Come on, surrender, lackeys!
King Louis is leading us into battle!
We rode many miles,
Hurray, our glorious de Treville!
Hateful enemy, tremble,
Seeing swords and cloaks!
Beat the drum! Sound, trumpet!
We won't be afraid of gunfire!
And I will tell the English:
"You won't have any fun here!
We didn't invite you to visit!
You will hardly return home."
And here is the glorious cardinal
Gives us a signal to attack.
So let the shrapnel fly around,
We will take the fortress of La Rochelle!
Give us some time, we'll bring the guns,
The black soil will be richer."

Aramis's eyes began to sting, and finally a single tear rolled out of the corner of his eye and froze on his cheek.
Suddenly one of the Bretons said:
- Monsignor, there is a sail on the horizon!
"Chase?" Aramis asked indifferently.
“Perhaps they haven’t noticed us yet,” replied the eldest of the Bretons, and ordered the sail to be taken down so as not to attract attention.
However, it was apparently too late: the ship was rapidly approaching.
Aramis took a telescope from one of the suitcases packed in the launch and looked in the direction of the ship.
“They see us and are coming straight towards us, we can’t escape,” the prelate said just as indifferently.
As soon as the ship approached within cannon shot range, the passengers of the launch heard a roar, after which a cannonball fell into the water not far from the launch.
"That's a warning shot," Aramis said. "They'll sink us if we try to escape. Reef the sail."
The sailors reefed the sail and the barge stopped.
The ship came almost right up to the barge.
"Hey, on the launch! Surrender!" the ship's commander shouted into the megaphone.
The Bretons looked at Aramis. The prelate nodded.
Two dozen muskets were aimed at the fugitives.
A rope ladder was thrown overboard.
"Come on board one by one!" the captain shouted. "At the first attempt to resist, we'll shoot!"
And, turning to the sailors, he added:
- We only need Monsieur d'Herblay. We guarantee the lives of the rest.
“We accept your terms,” Aramis shouted, not giving the Bretons time to think.
“How are you, Monseigneur?” asked the eldest of the Bretons.
“You can’t change fate,” the prelate answered indifferently. “And now there’s no point.”
Aramis glanced at the side of the ship. Suddenly, reading its name, Aramis jumped up and quickly climbed onto the ship, ahead of the other sailors.
Having boarded, he walked confidently towards the captain and made a mysterious gesture with his hand, at the sight of which the captain respectfully bowed his head before the prelate. After this, Aramis raised his left hand to the captain's eyes and showed him a ring with a precious stone on it. The captain bowed even lower with deep respect.
A few minutes later, Aramis was placed in the captain's cabin, and the captain himself ordered everyone to leave, after which he approached Aramis and asked:
— Where does the monsignor order us to head?
Aramis merely waved his hand wearily away from the island, to the west, after which he leaned back on the pillows and closed his eyes.
"Glorious Porthos!" he thought. "You were only a few steps short of complete salvation! Perhaps it would have been better if this stone had been a grave for both of us!"
After this, Aramis's heart sank with grief, but tears no longer gave relief to the prelate's grief.

XXVIII. King Louis XIV

The four guards who accompanied d'Artagnan did not take away his sword, since the order did not say that the captain of the musketeers was to be arrested, but only that he was to be taken to the King, who was at that time in Nantes. Therefore, d'Artagnan was first taken from the island of Belle- Ile by sea, and then along the Loire River.
By right of captain of the King's Musketeers, d'Artagnan wore his sword not only during his service or in the intervals between these times, but did not take it off even when he appeared before the King. However, this time he noticed with what anxiety the guards who brought him to the King's reception room looked at his sword.
"In this terrible sea-swell my sword has knocked against my legs so often that there is not a single spot on them that is not in one piece!" he said. "Look after it while I run in to talk to His Majesty! I will not need it for this conversation, and my legs will thank me for this short rest."
With these words, d'Artagnan unfastened his sword along with its scabbard and carefully placed it on the sofa.
The guards relaxed, and d'Artagnan resolutely stepped into the King's reception room.
"Your Majesty, you sent for me, and I am at your feet!" said d'Artagnan, bending over the King's hand. "I am delighted that you needed me, but I regret that I did not manage to complete the mission entrusted to me."
“Sir,” asked the King, “for what purpose, in your opinion, did I send you to Belle- Ile, providing you with the highest powers?”
“Your Majesty, I know nothing about it, but I would very much like to know, however, I am convinced that the purpose of my journey is unknown to me, since my powers were in fact limited on all sides. An infinite number of junior officers, who even without these high powers should have been subordinate to me in accordance with my rank, were endowed with sufficient powers to prevent me from doing anything to fulfill the mission entrusted to me,” answered d’Artagnan in such a submissive tone that not a drop of pride or resentment sounded in them. “They, probably, are better informed about the purpose not only of their actions, but also about the true purpose of my journey than I am, since they did not let me take a step. Therefore, I believe that this camarilla of minor officers with great powers will answer your questions about the purpose of my journey and the methods of achieving the task set before me better than I can. I could not fulfill the duties of the head of the expedition, since I was not one. Perhaps I was assigned the role of a scarecrow, or a decoy, it is not for me to judge. In any case, the role of the expedition leader was not assigned to me, so those who organized this letter tournament with the most diverse powers should be held responsible for its failure.
"Sir, if you had acted in accordance with the task assigned to you, your actions would not have been hindered by any powers granted to these officers," the King objected. "I had reason not to trust you, so I surrounded you with people whom I trust more in matters of carrying out this mission."
“And these people, I believe, carried out the task set before them better than I did,” d’Artagnan continued.
" What did you mean, Captain?" the King asked haughtily. "Explain yourself."
"You set yourself the task of taking the fortress of Belle- Ile under your hand, Your Majesty. If I met resistance, I was to crush it. I was also ordered to bring to you the Bishop of Vannes and the Baron du Valon," replied d'Artagnan.
"Have you accomplished your tasks, Monsieur d'Artagnan?" asked the King.
"I tried to carry them out in the order in which they were given," the captain answered calmly. "If I had not been prevented, I would have carried them out exactly."
“Really?” the King was surprised.
“It is very difficult to prove it now that I have been interrupted, but even more difficult to refute it, Your Majesty,” d’Artagnan answered humbly.
“Your actions did not contribute in the least to the achievement of these goals,” the King objected, although less self-confidently.
- In order to accept the fortress presented to you, Your Majesty, under your hand, the most effective measures were negotiations. I tried to explain to the chief officers of this fortress that it belongs to you, Your Majesty, as a result of which they were simply obliged to hand over the keys to it to me, - the captain answered with a bow.
"That is also hard to believe," said the King. "However, I understand that it is difficult to prove, but even more difficult to disprove, you say?"
" I made my demands known, gave them time to think it over, and intended to invite these officers on board to hear their answer," continued d'Artagnan enthusiastically. "I was not allowed to do so."
“These people would never give up!” the King objected.
"Is that the opinion of Mr. Colbert?" asked the captain. "If he understands the strategy and tactics of warfare better than I do, and knows these people better than I do, then it would be better for him to conduct the campaign. However, I dare say that I know these people a little better and could probably find arguments to convince them. Therefore, I cannot say that my first steps were senseless, Your Majesty. If they had been successful, we would have avoided bloodshed and solved all the problems you set.
"What if you are wrong, Captain?" asked the King. "What if they refused to surrender?"
"I draw Your Majesty's attention to the fact that I intended to invite two senior officers to the flagship to answer," said d'Artagnan. "If the rebels refused to surrender, I would arrest them there, on the flagship, after which the fortress would be left without commanders and would submit to the legitimate demands of Your Majesty. After that, I would take the fortress of Belle- Ile under your control, and deliver to you the rebels you named, that is, I would carry out all your orders without shedding a single drop of blood. The blood of your subjects, Your Majesty.
"You say you would bring your two friends to me?" the King said incredulously.
"Doesn't the fact that you entrusted me with this mission prove that you believed that I would carry it out?" asked the captain. "That's all I see it as. I can't prove to you that I would have done exactly as I say, but Mr. Colbert can't prove that I wouldn't have done it!"
"These are empty excuses! You have served me badly, Captain!" the King flared up, not liking the fact that he could not say anything sensible to the captain of his musketeers.
- Mr. Colbert and the spies he sent serve Your Majesty much better, I believe. They took the fortress of Belle- Ile under your hand, or rather, they destroyed it at its most strategic points, and now only a child would not take it. If tomorrow the English decide to take Belle- Ile, they will do it without firing a shot. Mr. Colbert's men destroyed the pearl of the border fortresses, the best of the sea outposts, the most important fortress from the point of view of the security of the state, which belonged to you, Your Majesty. They certainly deserved a reward. I am guilty of trying to preserve this fortress, so necessary to France, in its original form.
The king turned pale.
“The fortress will be rebuilt, something else was more important to me,” the King said in an icy voice.
"It was much more important for Your Majesty to capture the two rebels, the Bishop of Vannes and Baron du Valon, I remember that. I told you how I intended to carry out this order, but I was not allowed to do so," the captain said almost dispassionately. "Monsieur Colbert's men had a better plan, and no one was stopping them from carrying it out. I suppose they carried out your orders exactly? They captured them and brought them to Your Majesty?"
The King dug his nails into the arms of his chair so hard that the tips of his fingers turned white.
“They will be delivered alive or dead,” he said crisply.
"They will not be delivered alive," d'Artagnan answered firmly. "These people might, under certain circumstances, lay down their arms before me and surrender to me or to the Comte de la F;re, but there is no one else in the world who could take these people prisoner."
"Then they will be brought to me dead," said the King stubbornly. "And that will suit me well, for if they were brought alive it would only be to hang them."
"The Bishop of Vannes, even dead, can elude anyone," the captain of the musketeers answered confidently. "As for the Baron du Valon, even completely unarmed, he will lay down thirty guardsmen before they get the better of him. And with a sword in his hand or any hard and sufficiently heavy weapon, or at least a shaft in extreme cases, he will lay down forty men without blinking an eye."
“If necessary, I will send several hundred, several thousand people there, but these people will be captured or killed,” the King exclaimed, and his voice did not contain the confidence that sounded in the captain’s voice.
"You told me, Your Majesty, that if I brought you the said rebels, I would receive a marshal's baton," d'Artagnan chuckled. "I suppose a marshal's baton has already been prepared for Monsieur Colbert? I'm afraid that this baton will have to gather dust for many decades before it is presented to this man. At least not for such a victory."
"Enough, Captain!" cried the King, feeling that he could not object to d'Artagnan. "You tire me!"
"That problem is easy to fix, Your Majesty," the captain replied. "Either give me a vacation, in which case not only will I have a rest from service, but you will have a rest from me. Or give me a resignation, in which case our mutual rest will last much longer."
“Go,” said the King.
"On vacation or in retirement?" asked d'Artagnan.
“Wait,” Louis waved his hand. “You will be informed of my decision.”
D'Artagnan bowed low and left the King's office. In the reception room he took his sword from the sofa and fastened it back to his sword belt.
“If you need me, I’m in my room,” he said to the eldest of the four guards who had brought him to the King.
With these words, he left the royal chambers in an unknown direction.
- Where do you mean at home? - asked one of the guards. - We are in Nantes!
- Probably in the musketeers' barracks? - answered the other. - Or where?
None of them could give a more precise answer to this question.
 
XXIX. Investigations of D'Artagnan

D'Artagnan judged that, whether he had received a discharge or a leave of absence, he was for some time out of service and left to his own devices. This was precisely what he needed to be able to rush to the aid of Aramis and Porthos immediately, so he returned to Belle-Ile without delay.
The captain knew that if he asked the locals about the events, he would be taken for a spy. In that case, he would learn nothing, and also risk losing his freedom. So he simply wandered around crowded places, listening to the conversations of passers-by.
He soon learned of an extraordinary event, which consisted in the fact that two noblemen, accompanied by several Bretons, hid in the cave of Locmaria. They were discovered by a detachment of guards, after which they put up a fierce resistance, destroying ten of the sixteen attackers. When the guards were reinforced by several dozen soldiers, the fugitives made their way through the cave to the seashore. A detachment of guards tried to catch up with the rebels, following them along the passage of the cave, but they caused an explosion in which many guardsmen died, and, apparently, the fugitives themselves.
D'Artagnan realized that such an event could not have happened without his friends, Aramis and Porthos. He immediately went to the indicated cave and conducted his own investigation.
The guards' bodies had already been removed and buried, but everything else remained unchanged. There was no one to clean up the mess, and there was no point.
"Here they entered the cave," d'Artagnan said to himself. "I understand! They must have hidden the launch here. A very convenient place. They must have dragged it up from above, and were also going to lower it to the sea, but something prevented them from doing so. Apparently, these sixteen guardsmen appeared, ten of whom did not come out of this cave."
Looking closely at all the traces of the incident, d'Artagnan vividly imagined the picture of the battle almost as clearly as if he had been a witness or participant in this battle. Having walked through the cave to the place where Porthos had collapsed it with a keg of gunpowder, he realized that there was no further passage. Then he returned the way he had come, passed over the cave on horseback and went down to the sea where the cave came out onto the shore.
Here he saw traces of monstrous destruction. A huge boulder lay right by the shore, which had rolled out of the cave's exit. Some unknown force had turned it inside out.
D'Artagnan climbed to the very exit of the cave, which was blocked by an even larger stone. The captain did not even try to move it, it was beyond human strength.
"The exit from the cave is closed!" continued d'Artagnan. "That means that my friends are either buried alive inside this damned cave, or they luckily managed to escape from it before this huge stone sealed it forever."
The second outcome seemed unlikely to him. Besides, even if his friends had managed to jump out of the cave, and even boarded the barge and set sail, it could not guarantee their freedom. The royal ships, filled with Colbert's spies, patrolled these waters even now. During these unusual events, there was no hope of escaping them. Since the rebels were not caught, they most likely remained buried in this cave. Besides, the inhabitants of the fortress city told something similar.
D'Artagnan came closer to the stone, which he already considered with almost complete certainty to be the tombstone over the grave of his beloved Porthos and Aramis.
In a rage, he began to kick the stone with his feet, pushing and pulling with his hands. It seemed that he wanted to vent all his despair on this stone. Indeed, this stone, which rolled down the steep bank so untimely, prevented Aramis and Porthos, if not from saving themselves, then at least from continuing the fight for their lives.
- The devil take you, you damned, cold, stupid stone, the murderer of my friends! - cried d'Artagnan. - I will blow you up, but I will get to the remains of dear Porthos and Aramis! I will bury them with honor. Beware, hateful stone! I will destroy you, just give me time!
The noise of the ocean drowned out his cry, but d'Artagnan, who in his youth had not restrained his anger, and over the years had gradually become accustomed to suppressing his feelings more and more and not showing them in public, decided to give vent to all that anger, all the hatred for the injustice of this world that had accumulated in him over the past thirty-five years.
His voice was hoarse, his throat was raw, and he realized that he had practically lost his voice. He grabbed the largest rock he could find nearby, bigger than his fist, and threw it angrily at the huge boulder. This didn't seem enough, so he did it a few more times before he felt that he had given some vent to his anger. He covered his face with his hands and fell silent. Suddenly he heard a sound. It was a rhythmic thumping that came from the boulder to which the captain had addressed his curses and at which he had just thrown stones that came to hand with all his might.
Not believing his ears, d'Artagnan ran up to the stone and pressed his ear to it. That's right! Someone was knocking on the stone from inside with another stone.
- Porthos! Aramis! Is it you? Are you alive? - cried d'Artagnan in a hoarse voice, not paying attention to the tears that flowed from his eyes, leaving dark tracks of damp dirt on his dusty cheeks.
Without remembering himself, he pulled his dagger out of his boot and began to dig the ground with it, furiously raking it with his hands and throwing away stones, sand, earth and roots.
"I'm going crazy!" he suddenly thought. "I'm delirious. I've dreamed something incredible."
Looking around, he picked up a heavy boulder from the ground, walked up to the cursed stone that covered the cave, and began to pound on it: two blows, a pause, three blows, a pause, two more blows. Then he put his ear to the stone again.
In response he heard a knock in exactly the same order: two blows, a pause, three blows, a pause, and two blows again.
- It's Porthos! - cried d'Artagnan in a frenzy, despite the broken voice. - The devil take it, Porthos! That's how we agreed to knock on each other's phones in Mazarin's prison, in case we were put in different cells! Porthos is alive! A thousand devils, he's alive, he's alive!
And d'Artagnan began to tear up the earth to the left of the stone even more furiously than before.
By nightfall his efforts were rewarded and he was able to stick his hand into the cave.
"Porthos! Porthos!" he croaked through the hole.
“D’Artagnan,” came from the cave.
The captain's hand was seized by a hand so familiar and yet so foreign. It was undoubtedly Porthos's, a huge hand with long fingers, but, my God, how thin that hand was! All skin and bones!
“You are alive, Porthos…” d’Artagnan said weakly.
“I would have died long ago if it had not been for a breath of air from a small crack, if it had not been for a few sips of water from this spring!” a weak voice answered, but it was Porthos’s voice. “But, you know, d’Artagnan, I could not feed on locusts. I am apparently not a saint. I would rather die of hunger than eat spiders.”
- Porthos! Locusts are not spiders, they are grasshoppers! Such long African grasshoppers, which are quite difficult to catch! They do not exist in France! - d'Artagnan laughed through his tears. At that moment he was happy.
 
XXX. D'Artagnan's Idea

For several hours, without stopping, d'Artagnan dug a passage in order to get to Porthos. While he was digging, Porthos told him about the events that had taken place, which almost completely coincided with the idea of them that the captain had formed from the traces of the battle and the explosion that remained on the spot. He was, of course, glad that Aramis had apparently managed to sail away in a launch, although Porthos was not sure of this, but only assumed and hoped for such an outcome. After all, he could not know for sure, since he was buried under an enormous stone block.
"Damn it! Colbert's spies on fast warships have probably captured him," thought d'Artagnan with annoyance. "The king will hang him! We must hurry to his rescue!"
"Aramis has probably disappeared," said the Gascon, to encourage Porthos. "I will only hide you for a while, and then return briefly to Nantes to find out what is going on."
"We'll go together!" Porthos declared.
"You are exhausted, Porthos! You need to get better and get some treatment," the captain objected.
Fortunately, d'Artagnan had a flask of wine and some biscuits with him, which he had taken in case his investigations were delayed and he had to spend the night in the cave or near it. This was most welcome.
"Eat little and slowly, Porthos!" he said, pushing the biscuits through the hole he had made. "Don't rush, or too much food will kill you!"
- Where do you see an excess of food here, d'Artagnan? - exclaimed Porthos. - These four biscuits are enough for me in one bite! And besides, to die from an excess of food - that must be such a sweet death! The last hours, or days, or months, I honestly don't know how long I've spent here, I've been dreaming of just that - to die from gluttony!
Fortunately, Porthos had not been idle the entire time he was in the straitened circumstances caused by the falling stone. All this time, he had pulled off one boot and was digging as best he could. Unfortunately, his boots had no spurs, and the ground consisted of solid stones, so Porthos could have freed himself in his efforts, since his strength was already running out. However, he had dug three quarters of the way, and if he had not been exhausted by hunger and despair, he probably would have been saved.
When the passage was finally wide enough, Porthos, who had grown thin and weak, was finally able to get out through it. His torn clothes hung on him in baggy rags, his cheeks were covered in thick stubble, in a word, Porthos was unrecognizable.
- Porthos! You have changed amazingly, and that is to our advantage. Perhaps, with some caution, we can send you back to France. If you were also a little shorter, I would safely take you anywhere, even under Colbert's nose. Although your height is still alarming. It attracts attention. Why do you actually want to go to France?
"After all, I own Pierrefonds and Bracieux! They are beautiful estates, I have wonderful houses there. I want to live in them, at least sometimes," answered Porthos.
“If you appear alive in France, you will be hanged,” replied d’Artagnan. “Therefore, Porthos, the only way for you to dispose of your estates is to make a will. If the King thinks you are dead, there is a chance that he will not pursue your heirs simply out of forgetfulness, and unless Colbert suggests the idea to him. But if he knows that you are alive, he will not only execute you, but will also confiscate all your estates to the treasury first. I suppose you have made a will, Porthos?”
- Damn it, damn it! - exclaimed Porthos. - I didn't do it!
“Why?” d’Artagnan was surprised.
“There were two reasons for that – one very sad and one not so sad,” said Porthos and spread his hands.
"You speak in riddles, Porthos!" the captain grinned. "Explain the flight of your thoughts, I beg you!"
— It’s all very simple! First, a sad reason. As soon as I began to write my will, I remembered Madame Coquenard, who was kind enough to leave me her entire fortune. But this possession of large sums of money did not console me. I still think of her with sadness. As soon as I began to write, tears flowed from my eyes, and I told myself that there was still time and put it off indefinitely.
“What is the reason that you called not very sad?” d’Artagnan continued his questioning.
“The fact is that the fortune that Madame Coquenard bequeathed to me, she also received by will from her first husband, Monsieur Coquenard. And in this regard, I cannot find in myself a sufficient amount of sorrow for this occasion,” Porthos smiled.
"And how does this relate to the fact that you did not write a will?" the captain of the musketeers asked.
— The fact is that when I tried to begin dictating my will and tried not to think about Madame Coquenard, I couldn’t help but think about Monsieur Coquenard. And the thought always came to my mind that this miser had saved money all his life, denying himself the most insignificant pleasures, just to save up more. And I tried to imagine the sour face he would have made if he had known that all his accumulated money had passed completely legally first to his widow, my future wife, then they became ours and hers, and in the end they became only mine. It turns out that Monsieur Coquenard denied himself everything in order to save up more for my carefree life! Really, it’s funny, d’Artagnan, especially if you think how indignant he is now there, in paradise. — And Porthos burst out laughing merrily. - Every time I laughed until I started to hiccup, and in such a state it is too troublesome to dictate a will. And in this case I also put it off.
- You still have time to take care of everything. We will find a notary who will certify your signature, without insisting too much on the accuracy of the date. Of course, you will have to pay for his services at a special rate.
“That doesn’t bother me,” Porthos waved it off. “I have money.”
"Your will will allow us to transfer your money to a reliable person, who is not subject to the King's wrath. If only to Raoul de Bragelonne!" added d'Artagnan.
“I’ll give him everything, I’ll just leave a little for Muston and the other servants,” Porthos said, touched.
“Commendable, dear Porthos!” agreed the musketeer.
“But how will I live after this?” the baron asked serenely.
- Raoul will turn your estate into money and give it to you so that you can acquire an estate no worse than Pierrefonds and Brassieu, but where the King cannot reach you.
“I always wanted to live somewhere in the south,” Porthos said simply.
“That’s what we’ll do,” the captain nodded.
"But I want to take Muston with me!" exclaimed du Valon.
"That would be unwise. Colbert's bloodhounds might guess," d'Artagnan objected.
"He has served me so faithfully for thirty-five years!" sighed Porthos. "I would not like to part with him."
“In that case, he will have to die too,” said the captain, shrugging his shoulders.
- Kill Muston! Are you crazy, d'Artagnan! - Porthos was indignant.
“Just pretend that he is dead, that is, he must die for everyone else, but in fact he will go to the southern regions with you, Porthos,” d’Artagnan clarified.
“Why pretend that he is dead if he is not wanted by the King?” Porthos continued to be surprised.
"So that Colbert's spies wouldn't follow him, didn't you understand?" the captain was surprised. "This is, of course, not the only way, but the simplest and most reliable."
“And if he doesn’t agree?” exclaimed Porthos.
- Don't shout, Porthos, we are almost there, - answered d'Artagnan. - By the way, a feigned death is a very good way to pay off all your debts in earthly affairs, especially if you are in debt to the King! I would not mind disappearing so cleverly and leaving all my enemies with nothing! But to business! We will sail on the same fishing boat that brought me here. I know the owner of this vessel well. But do not attract attention to yourself. Pull my hat down on your head as far as possible, and stoop if possible, your height attracts attention, making you too noticeable. It is good that you have lost so much weight that even I would not immediately recognize you.
D'Artagnan found the captain of the vessel, and almost immediately they put to sea and sailed to the shores of France. Fortunately, the ban on the movement of fishing boats near the island of Belle- Ile had already been lifted, since the king's guards, on orders from Colbert, searched every corner of the island, but found no one, from which it was concluded that either the rebels were dead or had managed to escape. On the island itself, the search was virtually stopped. However, d'Artagnan prudently kept the King's order, which transferred the land and sea forces to his subordination. Almost useless in the presence of Colbert's spies, who had orders limiting his powers, this order was a very effective force where these spies were not nearby. Our hero understood that the demonstration of such an order by a captain on leave or, even more so, in retirement could lead him straight to the Bastille, but d'Artagnan had already learned to ignore such trifles.
Upon arrival in Nantes, d'Artagnan rented two rooms at the inn, one for himself and one for Porthos. Remembering the snoring of his giant friend, he took care to find two adjoining rooms, between which there was a common door, but it was lined on both sides with felt covered with fabric, and on both sides of this door there was a bolt. The musketeer appreciated the foresight of the owners of the dwelling, which for some time became his and Porthos's home. On the road, Porthos gradually began to move on to normal food, and there was no need to worry about the giant's health. Having ordered that Porthos be given enough food, d'Artagnan left the baron to eat and sleep, and he himself went to the barracks, with a trembling heart wondering what the King's answer was - resignation or leave.
The sergeant gave the captain an order which said:

“To the captain of the king’s musketeers, d’Artagnan, an order:
Three days of rest, after which receive instructions from Mr. Colbert.
"Louis."

Thus, d'Artagnan was supposed to appear before Colbert today.


XXXI. Two Commissions of the King

Colbert greeted the captain with open arms, as if there had been no shadow of hostility between him and d'Artagnan.
"Good day, Monsieur Colbert," said d'Artagnan. " Excuse me for not bowing. I have been absent for three days, and have not yet had time to inquire about the name of your new position, and how low I should bow when meeting you."
"Good day, Monsieur d'Artagnan," replied Colbert. "What's all this ceremony about? My position is still the same, I'm still the Intendant of Finances."
"And Monsieur Fouquet is still superintendent?" asked d'Artagnan with the most carefree air.
“What will happen to him?” Colbert asked with feigned surprise and began to bite his lower lip, which apparently indicated that he was overcome by strong feelings.
“What instructions did His Majesty give me?” the Captain inquired.
- His Majesty does not grant you a resignation, Mr. Captain, your three-day vacation is over, and His Majesty has ordered me to tell you that the holiday was a great success.
- This is all? - D'Artagnan asked dryly.
"His Majesty is confident that you will draw the right conclusions from this information and that you have carefully preserved the relevant papers, allowing you to act as your duty requires. Have you forgotten what these words mean?" Colbert concluded, his sharp eyes piercing the musketeer's.
“I believe that not only am I aware of what they mean, but that you are also perfectly aware of it, Monsieur Colbert,” the captain answered dryly.
“His Majesty hopes that no feelings of friendship will this time prevent you from forgetting your duty to the King and to France,” Colbert concluded solemnly.
"To forget my duty to France," replied d'Artagnan, and after an almost imperceptible pause he added, "any more than to forget my duty to her King, nothing would ever make me forget. It is in vain that you contrast my duty to the King and France with my understanding of the duties of friendship, as I understand them. Besides, the person whose whereabouts I must take care of is not one of my friends. May I take my leave, Monsieur Colbert?"
- Wait, captain! That's not all. At the very moment when you place that person we know everything about, you must open this envelope and do what is written in it, - said Colbert, after which he took a small key from his neck, opened a drawer of the table with its help, from which he took out a thick paper envelope.
"Tell the King that everything will be carried out exactly," d'Artagnan reported. "I would have told him this myself, but His Majesty and I agreed to give each other a rest. I will probably not bother the King with the sight of my face for a couple more days, and then we will see."
Colbert bowed politely, making it clear that he did not wish to quarrel with the captain of the Musketeers, and at the same time announcing with this gesture that the conversation was over. D'Artagnan returned the bow at exactly the same angle, but since he was somewhat taller than Colbert, his bow might have seemed less respectful.
Returning to the hotel, d'Artagnan spent about a minute trying to feel the envelope he had received from Colbert, as if he could determine by touch what text was written on the paper contained in this envelope.
- To hell with it! This letter is addressed to me, and therefore I can decide for myself when to open it! - he exclaimed, finally and decisively breaking the seal and opening the mysterious envelope.
On the piece of paper he pulled out of the envelope was written the following:

"Order to Monsieur d'Artagnan to take the prisoner Marchiali known to him to the island of Sainte-Marguerite, having first covered his face with an iron mask. Under pain of death, forbid the prisoner to remove it. Entrust the guard of the prisoner to the commandant of the fortress, Monsieur de Saint-Mar, under his personal responsibility, handing him the instructions enclosed herein.
"Louis."

The large envelope also contained a small envelope on which was written

"To the Commandant of the Fortress on the Island of Sainte-Marguerite, Monsieur de Sainte-Mar, personally: Order of the King"

“After all, the good General de Besmo has lost the King’s confidence,” said d’Artagnan to himself. “Aramis has done a bad service to our former comrade in the company of Monsieur de Treville. By the way, I promised the Marquis de Besmo a cash bonus as a small compensation for the troubles he has suffered simply because he involuntarily took part in affairs in which he would not have wished to take part. But was it involuntary? Is not our dear de Besmo a member of the Jesuit clique? If so, it was not without intention that Aramis helped him to take the post of commandant of the Bastille, and, of course, put pressure on him in order to extract Philippe from there. In that case, moving Philippe to the ;le Sainte-Marguerite and giving him a new jailer in the person of de Saint-Mars is a logical decision. But then Fouquet should have been placed there too, and not in the Bastille!” It's all clear, the King wants to hold an open trial of his superintendent of finance, not so much to finally crush Fouquet, but to show everyone else how determined he is to eradicate theft, bribery and nepotism in his ministries. A noble goal, but is it feasible? Damn it, as long as there are ministers, there will always be thieves, bribe-takers and money-grubbers, corruption was born before ministries arose, and it will outlive all state structures of all times and peoples! But what do you expect, gentlemen?! If they are not reined in from time to time, they will rake in the entire state! That's what the King is for, so that the ministers live in fear! That's how it is - after Richelieu's whip comes Mazarin's carrot, and after the carrot you have to get out the whip again.
Now I must arrest Monsieur Fouquet, and may God grant him patience to endure the humiliations that Monsieur Colbert has prepared for him.

XXXII. The Arrest of Fouquet

When d'Artagnan came to Fouquet, the superintendent was delighted to see him as an old friend.
- Dear captain! - he exclaimed. - Where have you been all this time? I am very glad to see you!
"I cannot answer you in the same way, dear Monsieur Fouquet," replied d'Artagnan. "I would be happier not to see you when I come to your house. It would be better if you went away somewhere."
"I don't know what offense I've caused you," Fouquet replied worriedly. " But if it's in my power to make amends, I'll do it, no matter what it costs me."
“I ask your permission to use your carriage,” the musketeer answered sadly.
"My carriage?" Fouquet was surprised. "If you don't intend to use it to kidnap the King and then let everyone think it was my doing, then it's at your disposal."
“For how long can you lend her to me, Monsieur Fouquet?” inquired d’Artagnan.
"Good heavens!" cried the superintendent. "Take her for as long as you want her. If the carriage that is now at the front door does not suit you, I will have you shown into the carriage yard, and you will choose the carriage that suits you best."
"Any one will do for me," d'Artagnan answered modestly. "But I will be especially pleased to use the one in which you and I have already traveled once in such high society that I will remember this trip for the rest of my life."
- It is decided, take this carriage! - exclaimed Fouquet. - And now explain what is going on, if it is not a secret. I am extremely interested in this whole story, since I do not understand anything.
“I will gladly explain, Monseigneur, but to do so you will have to come with me to this carriage,” replied the Gascon.
"We're going at once!" Fouquet exclaimed cheerfully.
"I'll go, and you catch up with me," suggested d'Artagnan. "And, monseigneur, if you take with you the things you need on the road, you won't regret it."
"Do you want me to go somewhere with you, Captain?" Fouquet asked worriedly. "I don't understand anything, but since you ask for it..."
- You have guessed wrong, Monsignor. I do not want you to go with me, and I am not asking you to, - the captain objected. - However, you will go with me.
“So I’m under arrest,” Fouquet finally realized. “You have an order to that effect.”
“I’ve had an order to this effect for a long time now, but I wasn’t rushed to carry it out,” the captain sighed. “Until today. Would you like to see it?”
"I don't see the point," said the superintendent sadly. "You are not a man to be distrusted in matters as serious as this. I would look at it if it stated the reason for my arrest, but I suppose it doesn't."
"It's absolutely true!" agreed d'Artagnan. "Believe me, I've read it several times."
- Excuse me, - Fouquet recalled. - When we were with you at Monsieur de Besmo's, you showed him the order, after reading which de Besmo tried to arrest me! I was so excited that I didn't even realize that you had this order before all these terrible events! That is, you had an order, but at the same time you were ordered not to carry it out until you received additional instructions about it!
"You are extremely perspicacious, Monsieur Fouquet," replied d'Artagnan. "Unfortunately, your perspicacity is at its best when it is absolutely useless, and when it is most needed, it disappears. Like a capricious muse, it places you at the most inopportune moments."
“It turns out that you first gave this order to de Bezmo, and then took it back, and now you will use it again in order to finally carry it out,” Fouquet said sadly.
"When you predict the past, you have no equal, Monsieur Fouquet!" d'Artagnan replied ironically. "So much the better, then I won't have to explain anything to you, especially since if you had asked me for an explanation, I wouldn't have given it to you anyway, since it's not my job."
“Well, let’s go,” Fouquet said sadly.
“I haven’t presented you with this order yet, and I haven’t informed you of your arrest,” d’Artagnan clarified with his shoulders. “You yourself came to that conclusion, which I didn’t refute. So, formally, you’re not under arrest yet. You can collect the things you think you need to take with you and say goodbye to your family.”
"It is very painful, but I am grateful to you, Monsieur d'Artagnan, for if I do not do it, I shall curse myself for the rest of my life for such an unfortunate oversight," replied the superintendent. "In that case, I ask you forty minutes, no, thirty, twenty minutes. Yes, twenty, however, ten minutes will also suffice."
"You give me your word, Fouquet, that you will be in the carriage in an hour, and that you will not try to escape or incite your friends to help you and free you," said d'Artagnan in an artless tone. "And I give you an hour to get ready, I will return in exactly an hour, and we will go to the place that His Majesty Louis XIV has designated for you as your residence for some time in the future.
“For some time?” asked Fouquet.
"I am not a fortune teller," replied d'Artagnan. "I do not predict the length of your stay in your next apartment. So, you give your word to Fouquet, and I give you an hour of time.
“Thank you, Monsieur d’Artagnan!” replied Fouquet.
The captain of the musketeers left, and the superintendent hurried to get ready for the journey and say goodbye to his family.
"What a fool!" thought d'Artagnan. "Instead of destroying the documents that could compromise him, it seems he will really spend the time given to him on packing some belongings for the journey and kissing his wife and giving his children his last instructions, which they do not need at all! It would be better if he told his son to cut all the diamonds off the superintendent's dress suits and run away!"
P;lisson, were also there. When the superintendent hurried into the room, she, not noticing his unusual excitement, invited her husband to join the circle of listeners and enjoy the poet's latest fable, which had so amused her.
- Forgive me, my dear friend! - Fouquet answered La Fontaine. - I am afraid I will not be able to appreciate all the beauty and wisdom of your poetry. I have little time to say goodbye to my family and to you, my friends!
"What's wrong? What's the matter?" his friends began to ask him in turn.
- I am arrested by order of the King. Despite the fact that I recently rendered him such a service, about which I can say nothing except that, in my opinion, he could forgive me after this even the most serious sins, while I do not know of any guilt before His Majesty.
“We must run!” cried Lafontaine.
“And immediately!” added Pelison.
"Listen, Fouquet!" said La Fontaine. "We are the same height. We will exchange clothes, I will distract the captain, and in the meantime you will disappear."
- No, no and no, friends! - objected Fouquet. - It is impossible! I gave Captain d'Artagnan the word of Nicolas Fouquet that in an hour I would be ready to go where Monsieur d'Artagnan would take me, according to the King's orders.
“It’s nothing, you gave it under pressure, it’s invalid!” Pelisson got heated.
But the Superintendent's wife, Mary Magdalene, objected:
- Friends, if Nicolas has given his word, it is harder than diamond. Don't try to persuade him.
Fouquet bowed his head in agreement and hugged his wife tightly.
"We will beat you off on the road," said Gourville. "We will gather men, attack the carriage, tie up d'Artagnan or kill him!"
“If that happens, then I will go to the Bastille myself and order de Bezmo to arrest me.
"We won't let you in!" Gurvil exclaimed. "We'll take you by force to a safe place and hide you."
“My friends, it is useless!” Fouquet replied sadly. “I am very sorry that I gave my word, but it cannot be helped! If I gave it, I cannot escape. If you deprive me of my carriage, I will go to the Bastille on foot. Let us not lose time. Let us say good-bye, and I must still get ready for the journey.”
As d'Artagnan had expected, Fouquet did not bother to destroy the documents that compromised him, nor to save those valuables that weigh little but are worth a lot.
Exactly an hour after d'Artagnan had left Fouquet, the superintendent approached the carriage, where at that very moment the captain of the musketeers also appeared.
“Get going! To Paris,” Fouquet said to the coachman.
The carriage carried its passengers to Paris in remarkable comfort, thanks to the use of magnificent springs.
"What have I done wrong to the King? Don't you know, Monsieur d'Artagnan?" asked Fouquet, perplexed, as soon as they had driven away from the gate.
“Tell me, Mr. Superintendent, you seem to have fortified the island of Belle- Ile, which belongs to you, as if you were going to fight against France, that is, against the King?” asked the captain.
"I gave this fortress to the King," Fouquet answered coldly. "This fortress cannot be the reason for my arrest. I gave this fortress to the King."
- Very well, Mr. Superintendent! - agreed d'Artagnan. - If a fortress given to the King is led by people who do not obey the King's orders, then this fortress is given only on paper. You have kept it for yourself.
"Do you blame me for this, Monsieur d'Artagnan?" asked Fouquet.
- Me? Not at all! - answered the captain. - But I didn't sign the order for your arrest.
"Tell me, were they saved?" asked Fouquet.
"Are you asking about the Bishop of Vannes and the Baron du Valon?" asked d'Artagnan.
- Of course about them! - exclaimed Fouquet. - Speak!
"I can't tell you anything definite," replied d'Artagnan. "They say they disappeared and were never found."
"Thank God!" said the superintendent, pulling a gold cross studded with diamonds from under his shirt and kissing it. "Thank you, Lord, for saving their lives."
“If they were both saved, I join in your gratitude,” the captain responded warmly.
“But you don’t know anything for sure?” asked Fouquet.
“I only know that I also pray to God that they may both be saved, but unfortunately, over the last thirty-five years, I have had more than one opportunity to see that the Lord listens to my prayers,” replied d’Artagnan. “It seems to me that the Lord never listens to anyone’s prayers. And it is not surprising, because there are so many who turn to him with their requests that it is impossible to make out a word in this polyphonic din! If the Lord occasionally fulfills my prayers, it is only if I myself take care of this. And thank you for that!”
“Did you do anything to save them?” Fouquet inquired.
“Everything I could, and almost nothing,” replied the Gascon.
“Well, let’s pray for them,” Fouquet said humbly.
"Pray in my name, too, Mr. Superintendent, and I will think how I can help them, if it is not too late," replied d'Artagnan. "Do not forget to pray for yourself personally, because if the Lord makes an exception for you and listens to your prayers, then his intercession will be very useful for you."
The travelers continued on their way in almost complete silence, as each of them was lost in his own thoughts.

XXXIII. Bastille

As soon as the carriage arrived at the Bastille, Fouquet suddenly became cheerful, which was in no way consistent with the situation in which he found himself.
— "Monseigneur, you have amazing self-control," d'Artagnan stated. "In such a difficult situation, you find reasons to be cheerful. I like the way you hold yourself. It only adds to the sadness of my mission."
“I was thinking about how you would appear before Bezmo,” Fouquet grinned. “After you locked him in the cell!”
“You thought about it only now, Monsignor, but I thought about it much earlier,” the captain replied. “First of all, I have already managed to visit here after those events.”
- Oh, yes! I completely forgot! - Fouquet remembered. - The prince...
“Monseigneur, how quickly and how easily we forget the Prince, equal in everything to the King, as soon as we realize that he means nothing in the fields of politics and Fortune!” sighed d’Artagnan.
Fouquet stopped short and fell silent.
“Why don’t you ask me what I meant by ‘secondly’?” d’Artagnan was surprised.
“It’s really curious!” said Fouquet, almost forgetting about his own problems.
“Your curiosity will soon be satisfied,” d’Artagnan smiled.
As before, d'Artagnan showed the guard the King's order, after which the doors in front of Fouquet's carriage opened, the carriage drove into the courtyard of the Bastille, after which the doors immediately closed. Believing that after the captain handed over the prisoner, he would go home, the guard was in no hurry to lock the gates.
"Lock everything with bolts," ordered d'Artagnan. "Come on, monseigneur!"
Fouquet looked back regretfully at his carriage, looked sadly at the sky, and resolutely followed the captain into de Besmo's office.
"You again, Monsieur d'Artagnan!" cried Bezmo. "You've been coming here a lot this week!"
"We have one unfinished business, Monsieur de Bezmo," the captain said serenely. "And business of this kind must be finished."
“What’s the matter?” asked de Bezmo, frightened.
“How could you forget, dear Monsieur de Bezmo,” d’Artagnan said kindly. “But I showed you the King’s order!”
"The King's order?" Bezmo asked, puzzled. "About what? Lately, there's been some kind of confusion with these orders."
“What do you mean?” asked the captain.
- Nothing, nothing! - de Bezmo came to his senses, remembering that the mistake with the prisoner Marchiali that had occurred should be forgotten once and for all, and under no circumstances should it ever be mentioned. - Well, you and Monsieur Fouquet came to conduct an inspection, and at the same time you played a joke on me with the King's comic order to arrest Monsieur Fouquet! To arrest Monsieur Fouquet, what a thought! Well, well!
"A joking order from the King? Are you serious, Monsieur de Besmo?" asked d'Artagnan in a worried tone that made the commandant feel uneasy. "Do you think the King has the mood and time for jokes of this kind?"
- But how, excuse me, you yourself said that the order was invalid! - Bezmo was surprised.
"You believe that an order for the arrest of an important person, signed by His Majesty the King, may in some cases be invalid," the captain concluded. "That is a very curious point of view, and you know, Monsieur de Besmo, with such views on the King's orders, your position as commandant of the Bastille becomes somewhat ambiguous."
- But excuse me! - exclaimed de Bezmo. - You did not allow me to carry out His Majesty's order, since you shoved me into a cell and locked me up! From this point of view, I am innocent, whereas you, sir captain...
“Monsieur de Bezmo, read this,” said d’Artagnan coldly, pulling out a sheet of paper folded in four from his bosom.
“What is this?” Bezmo asked absentmindedly, but as soon as he glanced at the signature, his face changed.
"Read it aloud, my dear de Besmo," said the captain of the musketeers kindly. "Monsieur Fouquet will be extremely interested in hearing the contents of this document, and it will be very instructive."
Then the surprised Bezmo read the following document aloud:

"The actions of the captain of the musketeers d'Artagnan in relation to the commandant of the Bastille, Monsieur de Besmo, were carried out in full accordance with my orders. Monsieur Brigadier General Fran;ois de Montlezin, Marquis de Besmo receives an increase of one thousand livres a year.
"Louis."

"While you were saying goodbye to your family and packing your things, Monsieur Fouquet, I wasted no time!" said d'Artagnan. "You should have seen Colbert's face when I went to the King without being announced, handed him a paper that the scoundrel had not even had a chance to look at, and when the King, barely glancing at it, signed it without a word.

De Bezmo, who, indeed, held the rank of brigadier general, but never forgot for a second that the rank of captain of the king's musketeers was practically equivalent to the rank of marshal of France, having understood the meaning of the text he had read, bowed low to d'Artagnan.
- Come, de Bezmo, what kind of ceremony is this between two colleagues, two former musketeers of Monsieur de Treville! - exclaimed d'Artagnan. - Monsieur Fouquet is bored.
All this time the superintendent remained silent, stunned by what was happening.
“It’s okay, it’s okay,” Fouquet joked. “I’m in no hurry.”
"Indeed, what is your hurry?" replied d'Artagnan. "I am very sorry to part with you, dear Mr. Superintendent, but believe it or not, this time I am in a hurry. Mr. de Besmo, receive the guest. Of course, additional allowance will be assigned to this prisoner, but also remember that you must feed Mr. Superintendent very well and provide him with an excellent bed and other household trifles, since he has paid in advance for his stay at your hotel for a very long time, I think about half a million."
“Paid half a million?” Fouquet was surprised.
"Paid for the stay? Half a million?" repeated de Bezmo.
- Of course, of course! - d'Artagnan smiled. - Do you remember that ring with the magnificent diamond that Monsieur Fouquet dropped in the guardroom? You intended to return it to Monsieur the Superintendent, but now, perhaps, he would prefer to receive the value of this stone in services that provide him with relative comfort, is that not so? - with these words d'Artagnan addressed both interlocutors.
“Of course, I remembered about this ring, but somehow the opportunity never presented itself,” muttered de Bezmo.
"D'Artagnan, you are a wonderful man!" exclaimed Fouquet. "What an ass I was not to have noticed you at once!"
"You are repeating yourself, Mr. Superintendent," said the captain sadly. "You seem to have taken the comparison with this venerable animal from your friend Mr. La Fontaine. I suppose he would not like you to try on such comical images from his magnificent fables. After all, your coat of arms depicts a squirrel."
"If you please, I will offer a more accurate comparison. All this time I was a peacock in disguise, imagining myself to be something out of the ordinary, whereas in reality, when they stripped me of all my feathers, it turned out that I was nothing more than a plucked rooster," replied Fouquet.
D'Artagnan looked at Fouquet with the deepest sympathy and thought: "This time he has found a very accurate comparison, poor Fouquet."
- My dear Marquis! - the captain addressed de Bezmo. - Our literary discussion is now over, and you may proceed to your duties. I assure you that this time I will not accompany you, but will wait for you here in your study. Take the King's order, file it in your journal, and do not treat so lightly in future papers on which this name is written, the name of the King of France.
Bezmo took out the keys and turned to Fouquet:
- Let's go, Monsignor.
“Yes, yes, let’s go at last,” Fouquet agreed. “Farewell, captain, and thank you for everything!”
"Farewell, monseigneur, or perhaps see you later. I wish you a good rest from your labors," replied d'Artagnan, and he shook the superintendent's hand firmly.

XXXIV. The Prince

When de Bezmo had locked Fouquet in a cell, he returned to his office.
“Well, Monsieur d’Artagnan, this time you have brought a truly noble prisoner,” he said.
"Which will be assigned a decent allowance?" the captain picked up. "That's true, but your overall balance will not increase."
“How is that possible?” de Bezmo was surprised.
“I brought you one prisoner, and I’m taking the other one,” explained d’Artagnan and placed the King’s next order on the commandant’s table.
A disconcerted de Bezmo read:

"Order to Monsieur d'Artagnan to take the prisoner Marchiali known to him to the island of Sainte-Marguerite, having first covered his face with an iron mask. Under pain of death, forbid the prisoner to remove it. Entrust the guard of the prisoner to the commandant of the fortress of the island of Sainte-Marguerite, Monsieur de Saint-Mar, under his personal responsibility, handing him the instructions enclosed herein.
"Louis."

“The allowance allocated to this prisoner was indeed quite decent,” Bezmo sighed. “But where are you going to get an iron mask?”
- What, Monsieur de Bezmo? - d'Artagnan feigned surprise. - Didn't you prepare it? Didn't I tell you?
“But you said that if…” Bezmo stammered.
- Exactly! In case! If! - the captain repeated, emphatically clearly. - But you should have prepared for this "if" in advance. Shouldn't you?
“You’re probably right, Captain,” muttered Bezmo, completely disconcerted. “But somehow I…”
“Didn’t have time to make it?” asked the captain.
"I discussed the order with four blacksmiths, including the one who was recommended to me as the best blacksmith in Paris!" de Bezmo replied. "But there were complications."
"Didn't agree on the timing, quality or price?" asked d'Artagnan, looking into de Bezmo's eyes.
“In a way, in everything, and I thought I’d find a better option…” muttered de Bezmo.
"Don't skimp on essential expenses!" the captain said in a didactic tone. "Very well! At least I gave you a metallic-colored cloth mask. Did you keep it?"
"Here is another reason why the King prefers de Saint-Mars!" thought d'Artagnan. "He, of course, does not forget about his own interests, but he knows in his gut what he should never economize on! If he is told that the prisoner must wear an iron mask, then the iron mask will appear, and the prisoner will wear it!"
"Oh, yes! " the commandant exclaimed with relief. "He wears it every time they bring him food, take away empty dishes, and clean his cell."
- Cleaning, damn it! I hope not in his presence? - the captain frowned.
"He's being moved to another room for the time being," Bezmo replied. "It's almost exactly the same cell."
- Good. Let's do it this way. I will take the prisoner away in a rag mask, and you, Monsieur de Bezmo, will order an iron mask to be made similar to the one in which I will take him away, - d'Artagnan said in a quiet half-whisper, as if he were a conspirator communicating with his accomplice. - You will then carefully pack it and send it to me by mail to the fortress. You know, I will have no time to organize such work. Especially on an island. Make sure that tomorrow the mask is sent to the fortress on the island of Saint-Marguerite by courier no later than the day after tomorrow morning. And now bring the prisoner. And bring his things.
“All his things fit into a small chest,” Bezmo answered, to which the captain nodded in agreement.
When Philippe appeared before d'Artagnan, the captain of the musketeers thought that the King was standing before him.
"Come with me, you are being transported to another place," he said coldly, then turned to Bezmo. "Marquis, please send the object we discussed within the time frame I have specified, it is important, otherwise I will cancel the document you received today thanks to my efforts."
De Bezmo bowed as far as his spine would allow, which was certainly not as flexible as that of the people who lived constantly near the King. D'Artagnan did not even pay any attention to this gesture.
After this, d'Artagnan picked up the chest with the prince's things and invited him to follow him. Having gone out into the corridor and having made sure that de Bezmo could no longer hear him, but the guards in the courtyard could not yet hear him, the captain turned to the prisoner.
— Your Highness, forgive me for not addressing you with the proper title in the presence of the commandant.
“I understand, d’Artagnan,” Philippe answered calmly.
Having gone down into the courtyard, the captain politely opened the door, inviting Philip to get into the carriage; after the prince had taken his seat in it, he got into it and shouted to the coachman:
— We're going to Pignerol.
“We won’t be waiting for Monsieur Fouquet this time?” the coachman asked in surprise.
“Monsieur Fouquet is spending the night here today,” replied d’Artagnan.
“God, thy will be done, Lord,” muttered the driver and crossed himself, after which the carriage drove out of the gates of the Bastille and went in the direction of another fortress, perhaps less strong, but further from Paris.
For a few minutes the passengers of the carriage rode in silence, after which Philip shuddered deeply and leaned back in his chair.
"What a terrible dream," he said quietly. "To spend my whole life in prison, and then wake up one morning in the King's bed and be the King all day, go to sleep as the King, fall into a deep sleep, and then wake up again in the same cell of the same hateful prison!"
"Do you think that you have been the King all day?" inquired d'Artagnan.
“Do you doubt it, d’Artagnan?” asked Philippe, assuming the form of the King.
"I have no doubt that you considered yourself a King, and that the people you met also considered you a King," replied the captain. "The question is different. Were you the King of France that day?"
“Why not?” the prince was surprised.
"You are a prince by birth, but to be a King it is not enough to be a prince with the right of succession to the crown of France," the captain explained. "A King governs a country, and does not merely receive relatives and nobles in his cabinet, does not merely destroy pates, and does not merely extend his hand to men and women to kiss."
“Didn’t I rule?” asked Philip.
"What decrees did you issue, Your Highness, when you felt yourself to be Your Majesty?" the captain asked.
“I cancelled the order to arrest Fouquet and was about to take other important actions,” the prince replied, embarrassed.
“But the order to cancel Fouquet’s arrest was not signed by you, but by the Bishop of Vannes,” objected d’Artagnan.
“How did you find out?” the prisoner asked in surprise.
“ You have not had time to study the King’s handwriting and learn to sign orders exactly as your brother did, whereas the Bishop of Vannes has made great progress in learning practical calligraphy,” d’Artagnan explained his guess.
“It doesn’t matter,” Philip muttered uncertainly. “I would learn in time…”
- You would have learned in time to sign documents in your brother's handwriting, you would have learned to understand Spanish, you would have learned to rule the country, you would have learned to behave in secular society like a King, - the captain continued. - All this in time. And you did not have this time. Listen, did the Bishop of Vannes, by any chance, tell you that he would be your faithful adviser in everything?
- Yes, I told you, how do you know? - Philip was surprised again.
“It would take too long to tell you how I know the Bishop of Vannes,” smiled the captain. “I know him, believe me, well enough. He promised to guide you at every step, made an oral agreement with you about his fate, about the fate of Fouquet and du Valon, about the fate of Colbert and, apparently, about me. That’s natural. Tell me, was he with you all this day?”
"Only this morning!" Philip exclaimed, shocked to the depths of his heart. "After that he disappeared somewhere, and no matter how much I demanded that he be brought to me, he was nowhere to be found."
"Let us suppose he had good reasons for being absent," continued d'Artagnan. "Without him you were helpless. What kind of King were you? You were an image of the King, a parody of the King, a puppet. Were you content with that role?"
“I was free, I wasn’t in a dungeon,” Philippe said uncertainly. “It’s better than the Bastille.”
“And much more dangerous, both for you and for France, as well as for all the people near the throne,” d’Artagnan said admonishingly.
“What was my mistake?” asked Philip.
“You took the throne not when you were ready for it, but when it was needed by a man capable of extracting you from the Bastille and carrying out a daring plan to kidnap the real King and take his place with you,” the captain replied.
“How could I prepare for this mission?” Philip asked again.
- I won’t tell you that, since you’ll hardly get a second chance. Although, if I were going to commit such an audacity, I would at least read at least two books. First, the history of France and the surrounding countries, at least for the last twenty or thirty years. Second, it wouldn’t hurt to read a small book by Messire Nicola Machiavelli. Third, it wouldn’t hurt to learn to at least understand Spanish, or at least read it. For example, I found an interesting book in Monsieur Fouquet’s library. Note that it contains chapters on the history of France, Italy, Spain, England, and Holland, and here is also the work by Machiavelli that I mentioned. And here, for example, is an edition of the same book in Spanish. I wonder why Monsieur Superintendent needed exactly the same book in Spanish? I was going to ask him about it, we had a short ride together in this carriage, but we got distracted by the conversation, so I didn’t satisfy my curiosity,” with these words, d’Artagnan carelessly threw both books on the seat opposite. “By comparing these two books, if you want, you can even learn to read Spanish and understand what you read.”
For some time both companions rode in silence.
"Listen, Your Highness!" said d'Artagnan ten minutes later. "I am tired and intend to take a short nap. I advise you to do the same. And don't try to escape. I sleep very lightly, the doors are locked, the windows are barred."
After these words, the captain turned up his collar, pulled his hat down over his forehead, and almost instantly fell asleep. Or, at least, it seemed from the outside that he was asleep.

At the first post station, d'Artagnan changed horses, but ordered that the superintendent's horses not be given to anyone.
“The King’s personal order!” he said, showing an envelope with the King’s handwriting on it.
The road was not short, the carriage stopped at taverns only for the night and for lunch. In these cases, Philip had to wear a mask. The captain demanded a separate room for himself and the prince, while the superintendent's coachman ate in the common room.
Inside the carriage, d'Artagnan allowed the prince to remove his mask. During the long journey, the captain enjoyed a new sensation: he saw the King's face before him, heard the King's voice, but did not encounter such peremptory arrogance as sometimes emanated from Louis.
"Aramis's idea was magnificent," thought the Gascon, "but its implementation brought only innumerable misfortunes to everyone - to Aramis, to Porthos, to the unfortunate prince, to the King, and especially to Fouquet. No, that's not how I would have taken on this matter!"
During this trip, d'Artagnan's right moustache experienced all the vicissitudes of its owner's deep thoughts.
Philip turned out to be a smart and even fairly educated young man, although he had no understanding of politics and history, and was extremely naive in human relations.
"Of course, if Aramis had been constantly at Philippe's side as an adviser, he would gradually have been able to make a very decent King out of him, but was that part of Aramis's plans? And could he have practically implemented a system in which all the orders emanating from the King would in fact have been written by Aramis?" d'Artagnan asked himself and could not find an answer that he liked.
For this reason, all the conversations between the captain and the prince concerned, mainly, ordinary human relationships. D'Artagnan learned a lot about the life of the young man and even managed to love him with a fatherly love, which he did not want to admit to himself.
“I know this face, this voice too well, I am accustomed to honor this man and obey him in almost everything,” he said to himself. “This man is a usurper of the French crown, the sentence against him is just and even very lenient, however, its leniency is explained by the close relationship of the King and the prince. Moreover, one cannot act harshly with a prince of the blood! The glorious Louis XIII was extremely lenient towards his brother, limiting himself to a simple expression of dissatisfaction for such crimes for which another man would have been quartered ten times over. The current King is not so attached to his family, but even he does not allow anything more terrible than imprisonment in a fortress, even in relation to bastards of royal blood. In addition, in the place on the island of Saint-Marguerite, the air is much fresher than in the Bastille, and most importantly, it would be simply impossible to deliver a prisoner from there quickly and unnoticed.”

When the travelers arrived at the coast, d'Artagnan had to leave the carriage at the nearest tavern and hire a barge.
While transferring the prince to the launch, the captain picked up the prince's chest. It seemed to him that the chest had become a little heavier, he glanced at the carriage bench and made sure that the two books he had left on it were no longer there.
"The kid will go far," he thought to himself. "But I still don't understand how Aramis could just abandon him to his fate?"
Upon arrival at the island, the captain demanded that the boatman deliver him a closed carriage. Since the captain paid his demands generously, there were no difficulties in carrying out his orders. The prince wore a mask all this time, but in these parts, travelers wearing cloth masks was not surprising.
It took some effort to get a carriage and horses to the island, but money solved that problem too.
As soon as the carriage hired by the captain arrived at the fortress on the island, which was sometimes also called the fortress of Pignerol, and drove inside, d'Artagnan opened the door and invited Philippe to get out, while he himself took up his trunk, which he carefully moved with each change of transport.
He slammed the carriage door shut, after which the guard and the prisoner walked up the steps of the fortress to its commandant, Monsieur de Saint-Mars.
De Saint-Mars showed no surprise at having a noble prisoner under his protection, although the fortress was not intended to serve as a prison. Any fortress can become a prison if desired, although not every prison can serve as a fortress, as the Bastille demonstrated in the time of Louis XVI, as my dear readers will probably remember.

The King's order stated:

“Order to Monsieur de Saint-Mars.
Delivered by the captain of the king's musketeers, Mr. d'Artagnan, the prisoner Marchiali must be kept with his face covered with an iron mask. Under pain of death, the prisoner must not be allowed to remove it when communicating or simply meeting with anyone. Violation of the order is punishable by death.
M. de Saint-Mar, the commandant of the fortress, is personally charged with the guarding of the prisoner under his personal responsibility. Any changes in the fate of the prisoner may be made only on the basis of a personal order from the King. Any communication between the prisoner and anyone is prohibited. The sending and receiving of messages is prohibited. Items given to the prisoner for his daily needs, as well as items taken from the prisoner for any purpose, must be carefully examined; if any writing is found on them, the writing must not be read; the item with the writing must be immediately destroyed.

"Louis."

Looking at Saint-Mars's face, one would have thought that he received such orders every day, since not a single muscle moved on his face.

“Where is the iron mask?” was all he asked.
- It will follow. By mail. - answered d'Artagnan. - For the time being, the one he is wearing will be enough. By the way, my dear Monsieur de Saint-Mars. Your prisoner is of sufficient rank, I beg you to treat him accordingly. He is very fond of writing, calligraphy is his passion, but no one can read anything he has written, so for his amusement he may be given a pen and paper, but do not give him ink, let him write with water. This will amuse him, but will not cause you any trouble. However, even in this case, all papers that have any traces of writing should be burned without reading. Do you have an illiterate person for such cases?

“We’ll find it,” Saint-Mar nodded.
"As for the mask," added the captain, "I'm afraid he won't be able to eat or sleep with it on. But he's not allowed to look out the window without it, nor to be without it when food is being brought to him or his room is being cleaned. He must also remain silent during these times, and your people are not to ask him any questions."
"I will deal with these problems," replied Saint-Mars. "We must combine respect for the prisoner, concern for his physical health and comfort, with the task of ensuring that no one, including me, sees his face or communicates with him."
“You are an amazingly intelligent man, Monsieur Saint-Mars, which explains to me why His Majesty entrusted this mission to you,” the captain replied and smiled with the full width of his Gascon face.
"You are joking, d'Artagnan!" replied de Saint-Mars. "After all, it was you who recommended to His Majesty that I be appointed commandant of this fortress!"
- How the hell do you know? - asked d'Artagnan. - Oh, yes! You seem to have relatives at court.
“Only one relative and only one friend, my former boss,” answered de Saint-Mars.
- You don't say that! - said d'Artagnan. - Your appointment has deprived me of a magnificent quartermaster. But what can I do? It is easier to find a good army quartermaster than to find an excellent commandant of an island fortress!
"In essence, it is the same profession," replied de Saint-Mars with a smile. "Will you dine with me, sir captain?"
— Certainly! — answered d'Artagnan. — I will have both supper and breakfast. And probably more than once. I must linger here until the mask arrives and make sure that the King's orders are strictly observed. This is not out of mistrust of you, my dear de Saint-Mars, but only in accordance with the King's instructions. But now I would prefer to take a walk and look around the area. Excuse me, the habit of an old soldier is to put everything in order. Although, of course, I have been in these places before, but places change with time. What time do you expect me for dinner?
“An hour from now will be the best time for lunch,” replied Saint-Mars.
- I agree with you completely and submit to the local regime, - the captain smiled. - How about we fence in our spare time? Let's remember the old days?
- With pleasure, Monsieur d'Artagnan, but only on condition that we fence with blunted rapiers! - answered de Saint-Mars. - Your hand is so steady and your sword so quick that I can already foresee how many holes you would make in me if we fenced with real weapons! We saw each other a month ago, and the last bruise from your blunt pricks healed on me only a week ago.
"I will be careful, Monsieur de Saint-Mars," replied d'Artagnan. "But you must understand my situation! The art of fencing is gradually declining. In recent years, I simply have not been able to find a worthy opponent for fencing, and yet I have three hundred musketeers at my disposal!"
“The problem is not that your people are bad, but that your art of fencing only improves with age,” replied de Saint-Mars.
“Well, with you I have to be on my guard, because you are also quite good, Monsieur de Saint-Mars.”
"Compared to you?" exclaimed de Saint-Mars with a smile. "D'Artagnan! Don't lie!"
“Okay, I won’t!” d’Artagnan replied and burst out laughing.

XXXV. Letters on a Dish

The fencing exercises were scheduled for the following day by his former colleagues, since d'Artagnan preferred to carefully study the surroundings under the guise of a short walk, which he had made a rule for himself every time he arrived in a place for the first time. After the walk, he returned to the fortress and appeared for dinner at the strictly appointed hour.
The dinner was pleasant, the wine suited the captain's tastes. I know that my readers will be surprised that I do not describe the menu of this feast. It is true that I have departed from the tradition of describing in detail the menu of each feast at which important events take place, but for this you must not blame me, but my little tormentor, who was mentioned in the introduction to our novel. Her words still ring in my ears: "You describe the menu of each lunch and dinner in such detail, as if you were not a dramatic writer, but a restaurateur. You are probably constantly hungry? Even the banquets of Lucullus are not described in such detail, although all ancient Rome spoke of them. I pass over these passages without reading." Well, little wretch, who completely captured my heart when I listened to her, I yield to your taste and omit the descriptions of the dishes. Your words still remain the sweetest music of my heart, although it no longer beats so tremblingly, but only plunges me into the sweet languor of dreaming about that happiness, which was not possible due to such a huge difference in age, but which is still sweet to think about. Perhaps I could have been her uncle, and she would have been the first reader and the first critic of my modest works. She could have been my Violetta, the one I wrote about…
However, I am digressing from the main topic! But, as you see, when I refuse to describe the feast, I cannot do without other lyrical digressions, and if I do not describe the treats of my heroes, then I am carried away into even more distant reasoning, forcing me to digress from the events I am describing. May my devoted reader forgive me!
So, in the middle of dinner, a servant entered the room, with a whole range of emotions on his face, from confusion to embarrassment.
- Commandant! - the servant reported. - The sergeant of the outer guard wishes to report an emergency!
“Then why doesn’t he come in and report it himself?” de Saint-Mars was indignant.
“You have a guest...” the servant answered in an even more embarrassed tone.
"See how they serve me?" laughed de Saint-Mars. "These fools think they have served me by trying to hide something from you, captain, but they do it so absurdly that it is no longer possible to hide anything!"
“It was the sergeant who ordered me to report it in this form,” the servant began to justify himself.
“It looks like he wants me to exclude him from the list of blockheads,” de Saint-Mars winked at d’Artagnan.
"That's why I don't keep servants," the captain smiled. "I had one servant, more of a comrade on all military campaigns than a lackey. But now I prefer to deal only with soldiers. They always know the ranks clearly."
"I remember his name was Planchet!" said de Saint-Mars.
- Exactly so, - confirmed d'Artagnan, and then turned to de Cinq-Mars's servant. - My dear fellow! The title of blockhead is not abolished for those who interrupt a commander during his meal by reporting that an emergency has occurred, but without telling him what it is or why it is urgent. Having said "a", say "b". Besides, in the presence of a superior officer, the sergeant should have addressed me, not the commandant. And he did not want this, because he was sure that an event about which we could only guess at the moment should first be reported to the commandant, so that he himself could decide whether it was worthwhile to initiate the high guest into it. That is why he sent you. You should have gone up to Monsieur de Cinq-Mars and whispered in his ear the information that you blurted out. The communication of a footman with his master is not necessarily made public, whereas the report of a sergeant to the commandant in the presence of His Majesty's envoy, the captain of the king's musketeers, is a breach of subordination.
"In the contest for the title of the blockhead of today, Jacques, my dear, you have won," summed up de Saint-Mars. "And the captain explained everything very clearly, please do not be offended, and here is a louis d'or for your consolation. Call the sergeant."
A minute later the sergeant came in and reported:
— A prisoner who arrived today threw a silver plate out of the window of his cell.
"Where is it?" d'Artagnan asked sharply. "Who picked it up?"
“We didn’t dare raise him, but we posted guards who wouldn’t let anyone near him.
D'Artagnan jumped out from behind the table, grabbed the scabbard with his sword from the hook and in the blink of an eye rushed to the place of the extraordinary discovery.

At a distance of twenty paces from the window of the royal prisoner, located in one of the towers of the fortress, the captain found four guards who had seized a gray-haired man. Two of the guards aimed loaded muskets at him. D'Artagnan made a sign that they should not fire until he had dealt with the old man.
Coming closer, the captain turned cold with horror, recognizing the old man as Grimaud.
"Wait, you blockheads!" he said with feigned indifference. "If you've already missed our guest's attempt to make himself known, don't miss the chance to deal with this accomplice. Did he manage to pick up the dish?"
"We don't know," the sergeant replied. "We saw a plate fly out of the window and ran to pick it up. When we got there, the man was nearby."
"Well, it may well be that he is an accomplice," d'Artagnan said thoughtfully. "But we must look into this. It is not worth killing an innocent man, but under no circumstances should we let a conspirator go. Who are you?" he addressed Grimaud with an emphatic loudness.
In response, Grimaud merely patted his sides, then pointed his finger at the sea.
- Maybe it's just a local fisherman? Look how he smells of fish. Of course he is. Listen, old man, can you at least talk? - with these words, d'Artagnan looked meaningfully into Grimaud's face and raised his left eyebrow.
Grimaud feigned the highest degree of idiocy and mumbled something completely inarticulate.
"He looks like a deaf-mute," exclaimed the captain. "But we must check whether he is pretending. Sergeant, he cannot see you now, shoot into the air behind him, and we shall see whether he is as deaf as he seems."
The sergeant fired his musket almost right over Grimaud's ear, but the old man only continued to smile with the most idiotic look.
At this point de Saint-Mars joined them.
“What happened?” he asked d’Artagnan.
"What happened was that you were slow to deal with this incident," the captain replied, "but this time it may be for the best. Your men intended to kill this poor fellow. A laudable intention, but in this case it would have been senseless cruelty. He is deaf and apparently dumb," the captain replied. "I don't think he can read, but we must make sure."
With these words, d'Artagnan wrote the question "Who sent you?" in the sand with his sword and pointed to this inscription to Grimaud.
Grimaud looked in surprise at the tip of the captain's sword, then at the letters, then back at the sword, then laughed wildly and began to circle around the words in the sand.
Then d'Artagnan wrote "Your tongue and ears will be cut off!" and again invited Grimaud to look at the inscription. Grimaud squatted down and began to carefully trace the letters with his finger, which he was not able to do at all, while he was happily humming something.
"Well, it's quite clear that he's a local idiot, taken by the fishermen out fishing, taking pity on him, but he apparently escaped from them," summed up d'Artagnan. "We don't need any unnecessary cruelty, especially towards a deaf-mute, who has already been deprived of God's favor. However, it's possible that he was sent on purpose to take this dish. Sergeant, let him go, but as soon as he leaves, send one of the three to watch him unnoticed. If he has accomplices, we'll find out quickly, and then he'll be in trouble."
With these words, d'Artagnan picked up a dish from the ground that was lying upside down. On the inside of the dish, the captain saw an inscription.
"Which of you read what is written here?" he asked sharply, turning to the guards.
“We just came up to him and didn’t touch him,” the sergeant answered for everyone.
"Your happiness!" the captain sighed with visible relief, hiding the dish under his cloak. "Wait a minute, let me take a look."
With these words he began to examine the sand around the place where the dish lay with special attention.
- You are right, gentlemen! No one has come near this dish! The sand around it is smooth, for three meters from it there are no footprints except mine. Well, you are all lucky! And this deaf-mute too. Sergeant, stop watching. Let him get away safe and sound, but if he comes within musket range of the fortress again, shoot. Once it could be an accident, twice - a conspiracy. Do you understand everything?
Saint-Mars looked sternly at the sergeant and the three soldiers, after which all four stood at attention and clicked their heels.
"Now, everyone in their places," said d'Artagnan, waving his hand. "And make sure that nothing else falls out of the windows of this castle, not a single object, otherwise someone's head will fall to the ground after it."
After these words, d'Artagnan turned with dignity and headed towards the fortress.
Grimaud continued to trace the letters in the sand with his finger.
"Go away, you idiot!" the sergeant shouted, and gave Grimaud a kick. "Drive him away to the sea and return to your post," he said to one of the soldiers.

After dinner, d'Artagnan said to Saint-Mar:
- Commandant, it seems that a messenger will soon arrive to me with a secret order from the King. He will not say that he has brought a package, he will only ask where he can find me. Do not ask him about anything, and do not answer any of his questions. Just take him to me. I will tell you a secret, as a friend, his behavior may seem suspicious to you, he may feign ignorance of the matter or ask the strangest questions. This is a simple test, but I will tell you, an old comrade in arms, what is the matter. This is simply another way to verify your discretion, nothing more. But along the way, he will be fulfilling an important mission. So, if he arrives at night, wake me up at once if I am sleeping, and besides, I ask you to feed him and provide him with a place to sleep as your most dear guest. And warn the security to let this person through, and not to shoot at him out of fear, and most importantly, not to ask him about anything, not to answer his questions, and not to be surprised by anything.
“Are you expecting him tonight, Captain?” Saint-Mars asked in surprise.
“I do not exclude it, since for this man, when he travels, the concept of ‘night’ does not exist,” replied d’Artagnan.
“Do you know his name?” asked the commandant.
"I know all his names, and you may remember him too," replied d'Artagnan. "He will introduce himself to you as the Comte de la F;re, but to me he is simply Athos."

XXXVI. Meeting of old friends

Since d'Artagnan was a very light sleeper, there was no need to wake him. He heard the door slam, instantly jumped out of bed, pulled on his trousers, jacket and boots, belted himself with his sword belt and left his room a minute and a half later.
In the commandant's doorway, as expected, he met Athos.
- A thousand devils! - he exclaimed. - Athos! Few things in the world will please me so much as meeting you! Let us embrace!
"D'Artagnan, my friend," said Athos in a trembling voice. "And I am no less glad than you! After all, you..."
- Shhh! Not a word! - the captain interrupted him. - Let's go, - with these words he cast an eloquent glance at de Saint-Mars.
Athos nodded understandingly, and the friends retired to the captain's room.
“Athos, you were looking for me,” said d’Artagnan, “and you knew it was not safe, so you sent Grimaud to reconnoitre.”
“It’s all true, my friend, it’s all true,” Athos answered simply. “Seeking meetings with old friends at my age is so natural!”
- When we first met, the difference in our ages was so great that you called me your son, Athos, but with the years these differences are erased! - objected the captain. - You could say: "At our age!" I, too, seek meetings with old friends when the duty of service does not interfere.
"Or when the duty of your office demands it of you?" asked Athos.
"You have seen Aramis and Porthos, of course!" cried d'Artagnan. "The road to Belle- Ile passes not far from Blois, and they made this detour to see you! So Aramis has told you everything."
“Only the first part of the story, and Grimaud told me the second,” Athos smiled bitterly.
“Not every servant can read, fortunately, our glorious former servants are all educated, if not perfectly, then well enough to make out even the clumsy scratches on silver,” the captain noted.
"Grimaud has long ceased to be my servant, but my friend," Athos objected. " He helped me raise and educate Raoul, he is a member of my family."
"Although I don't have a son, as far as I know," d'Artagnan smiled, "I have also established a special relationship with Planchet; I am no longer his master, and he is no longer my servant. And it's the same with Aramis and Porthos!"
“By the way, do you know their fate?” Athos asked worriedly.
"You sought me out to ask me this?" asked d'Artagnan. "But I suppose there are other reasons than talk of our former servants. Well, I can tell you that some widows living near Pierrefonds and Bracieux will have many tears to shed..."
“And you talk about this so calmly?!” Athos was horrified.
- Calm down, Athos! Our dear Porthos is alive, although he has lost a lot of weight, - answered the captain and gently patted the count on the hand. - Do you really think that I would joke about such a misfortune as you thought about?
- So he is alive! Excellent, and Aramis? - asked Athos.
- They haven't cast that bullet yet, and haven't forged that sword that will take Aramis from us, but my information about him is not exact. I only hope that he has escaped! - d'Artagnan said with conviction. - Our abbot-musketeer is not made of the stuff to allow himself to be killed or taken prisoner on an island with such beautiful caves. They will get the devil himself, not our Aramis!
“In this case, ‘they’ are your troops, d’Artagnan?” Athos chuckled.
"I was appointed to lead the troops nominally, but in reality I was deprived of the right to command anything, even myself, damn it! Otherwise our friends would have had more opportunities to escape," exclaimed d'Artagnan with his characteristic Gascon fervor.
“More opportunities or less – what difference does it make if they took advantage of them?” Athos smiled.
- That's true! - agreed d'Artagnan. - So, we've seen each other and talked about our friends. What is the third reason for your arrival, the main one?
“I was accompanying Raoul to the army of the Duke de Beaufort,” replied Athos. “On the way back I heard of a strange carriage carrying a strange prisoner, and I guessed that…”
- Be quiet, Athos! The walls have ears! - the captain interrupted him.
“I just wanted to say that I guessed that a one-man convoy on such an important mission could only be if that man was you, d’Artagnan.”
“And you were right, my dear friend,” said d’Artagnan, flattered by Athos’s words. “But people of that sort are not escorted, but accompanied.”
“ Grimaud,” said Athos, then pointed to his lips, then to his ears, and made a circle with his finger, hinting at the silver plate.
D'Artagnan put his finger to his lips and pulled a silver dish from under his pillow, which he silently showed to Athos. On the dish was written:
 
"I am the brother of the King of France, save me, and the Lord will reward you."

Having made sure that Athos had read the inscription, d'Artagnan erased it with a dagger taken from his boot, after which he threw the dish onto the bed.
"Not all reading is good for the mind," he said in a humorous, didactic tone. "Some texts can make you a head shorter."
“So it’s true!” exclaimed Athos.
“You can trust Aramis in such things,” d’Artagnan nodded.
“I certainly believed him, but now this truth has burst into my life, which will never be the same again.
“We will talk about this later, but now I must introduce you to the commandant of this fortress, de Saint-Mar, as the envoy of the King, who has brought me a secret order,” said the captain.
“I brought you nothing but my friendship and a firm handshake,” Athos objected.
"That's enough for me, but for the commandant such a lie for salvation is necessary. Otherwise you would have been shot as soon as you tried to approach the castle. You understand the circumstances," and d'Artagnan pointed his finger at the dish, which could no longer reveal the terrible secret to anyone. "You brought me an order to continue guarding the prisoner until I am recalled. Incidentally, such an order was given to me verbally before my departure, but, damn it, de Cinq-Mar does not need to know about it.
- That's exactly how it was, my dear friend, since you say so, I'm ready to confirm it under oath. But where are we going to get this order? - asked Athos.
"The order is so secret that I am not obliged to show it to Cinq-Mar," the captain answered simply. "But let's return to Porthos. You know, Athos, when I saw Porthos thin and unshaven, I had a great idea.
"Shave and fatten?" Athos smiled.
- On the contrary! - the captain smiled back. - Do not feed or shave. He became almost unrecognizable, so I decided to spread the rumor that he really died. This would save him from further persecution by the King.
"Poor Porthos!" sighed Athos. "He loves to eat so much! Besides, he is very careful about his appearance."
"I said the same thing to myself, so I decisively rejected the first part of my idea. I allowed Porthos to eat well and shave, but I forbade him to show himself in public," the captain continued. "He lives in an inconspicuous tavern and awaits my return. We must quietly transport him to a place where no danger will threaten him."
“There are probably no such places in France,” Athos answered doubtfully.
"But in England I have a small house given to me by General Monk, which I have never visited. There Porthos will be in no danger," replied d'Artagnan. "Besides, in England the bulls have much thicker foreheads, so Porthos will be able to practice knocking down bulls with a blow to the forehead with his fist without the risk of killing the bull."
"Where do you get such information about the thickness of English bulls' foreheads?" Athos asked ironically.
"How could it be otherwise?" the captain replied, shrugging his shoulders. "The islands have high humidity, which makes the bones thicker."
"Did you reach this conclusion by studying the anatomy of English bulls?" asked Athos.
“I came to this conclusion by studying the psychology of the English,” d’Artagnan replied with a smile.
“There are decent people among the English,” Athos smiled.
"Decency is only one form of obstinacy, as I learned from Fouquet. Besides, he is not an Englishman," said d'Artagnan. "But God bless them all! Let us talk about our situation. I am forced to sit here as a jailer guarding a treasure that will not enrich me and which I cannot carry away; Porthos is overeating in a tavern, locked up; Aramis has been carried off by some evil spirit somewhere overseas, to England or Spain; only you, Athos, can move about quite freely, but there is something wrong with you too."
“ I assure you, d’Artagnan, I am well and free,” replied Athos with a gentle smile.
"You are not well, Athos, and you are not free, and I will explain this to you now," d'Artagnan persisted. "First, your heart bleeds for the fate of your son, the Vicomte de Bragelonne.
"Ah, it is an incurable wound for me if the Viscount does not overcome the youthful ardor which he mistakenly takes for love," sighed Athos. "I am very much afraid that his imaginary love will kill him."
"His love was not imaginary, Athos," d'Artagnan objected. "I know that! At his age I almost died myself, but even now I cannot remember Constance without a tremor in my voice and tears in the corners of my eyes, and I already..."
“You are younger than all of us,” Athos smiled. “Let’s return to my illnesses and lack of freedom.”
"Secondly, Count, you have come into contact with a secret that I would call a mortally dangerous disease," d'Artagnan continued. "Thirdly, if this secret does not take your life, it can take away your freedom at any moment."
“You know, d’Artagnan, that even the most terrible secrets do not cease to be secrets because I am privy to them,” Athos said gloomily.
“I know it, but the King does not,” replied d’Artagnan. “The King’s peace is worth more than the life of one of his subjects. I would never have let you into this secret, not because I fear you will not keep it, but because I fear that someone will find out that you are into it. But I cannot lie to you, Athos. To anyone but you. If Aramis has told you everything, and since Grimaud has seen what he should not have seen, the rest is easy to guess. Therefore, I have told you everything without hesitation, so that you will not try to get to the bottom of it yourself, since your attempts to hide the truth would be much more difficult than your knowledge of the matter.”
"The King knows that the four of us are friends, almost a family, " said Athos. "He will not believe that three of us know his secret, and the fourth is not privy to it. What difference does it make whether I know the details or not, if the King thinks I know them?"
“That’s true, although one of the three of us was not privy to this secret until he had to ‘conduct a lengthy reconnaissance mission with the aim of occupying a more strategically advantageous position and preventing encirclement and subsequent capture’, or so it seems, ” laughed d’Artagnan.
"Did you think of this to make Porthos retreat?" Athos smiled. "I never doubted your powers of persuasion, my friend, but here you have surpassed yourself."
"Well then, Athos," replied the Gascon, "I shall need this gift to persuade you to do as I propose. You will return secretly to Paris, fetch Porthos, and take him to my house in England, and there you will reside until I inform you that the danger is past."
"You forget, my friend, that my heart remains here, where my son must fight. I will be here in France, in Blois, awaiting his return," Athos replied softly.
“I’m afraid that when he returns he will have to look for you in the Bastille,” d’Artagnan sighed sadly.
“You got me out of there once, you’ll get me out of there again,” Athos answered serenely.
“I was able to convince the King that your truthfulness is not a rebellion, and that it does not threaten the King’s peace, but I cannot persuade him to forgive you for your initiation into a terrible family secret that threatens the peace of both the royal house and all of France, and could even cause the strongest international upheavals.
“My friend,” replied Athos, “I have spent my whole life without the King’s favor or indulgence. There is no use in changing it now that I have lived long enough to cling to liberty or life. I would not have sacrificed my pride for liberty in my youth, nor would I now. We have not hidden from the Cardinal and his spies; what can we care what the King thinks of us, who knows us not? Besides, he knows you, d’Artagnan, and he knows that you also possess this terrible secret. Why does this secret not kill you?”
"Only because I must be the one to kill all the others who are privy to this secret!" cried d'Artagnan. "It is possible that when the King knows that only two people on earth are privy to this secret - he and I - he will decide that two is too many."
“Then I don’t like your profession, my friend,” said Athos, not hiding his sadness. “Besides, you yourself said that he only needs others who are initiated into the secret while they are alive. So you shouldn’t rush to deal with these others, because it is in your interests,
"It is simply impossible to hurry any slower than I do, believe me," cried d'Artagnan. " But if I refuse this nasty job, it can be entrusted to another person who can do it better than me. Faster and more efficiently."
“And yet I am going to Blois,” Athos summed up.
"Only after a good dinner, a good night's sleep and a refreshing breakfast," d'Artagnan said firmly. "No objections will be accepted!"
“I told you, my friend, that you are very good at persuasion,” laughed Athos, after which the friends went down to the fortress dining room for dinner.

XXXVII. Departure from the Island

The next morning, d'Artagnan was informed that a musketeer had come to him with a dispatch. The captain recognized the King's handwriting as soon as he glanced at the envelope. The letter read:

"After carrying out my orders, the captain of my musketeers, Monsieur d'Artagnan, must immediately return to Paris to the Louvre for further orders."

"Now my exile is over!" the musketeer cried joyfully. "Thank God, I am no longer a jailer! We can go back together, Athos!"
- Together, as before, my dear friend, but only to Blois! - answered Athos. - The air of Paris is bad for me.
Having crossed from the island to the mainland, the friends went to the White Candles tavern, where Grimaud and his horses were supposed to be waiting for Athos.
The gray-haired Grimaud had been looking out for the Count since early morning, and as soon as he saw him in the distance, he cried out joyfully and ran to meet him.
“Waiting,” he said, pointing his hand towards the tavern.
“A friend?” Athos inquired.
Grimaud nodded, raising his left eyebrow and shaking his head slightly.
"Not a friend, but not an enemy either," concluded Athos. "But rather a friend. Is this the Count de Rochefort?"
Grimaud nodded deeply and firmly.
"What could he want?" Athos asked in surprise. "We haven't seen each other since we arranged the escape of the Duke de Beaufort, after which our paths diverged."
"You arranged the escape of the Duke of Beaufort?" cried d'Artagnan. "And after that you were not thrown into the Bastille and executed for that alone? The devil take it, as soon as I found a master who at least did not withhold my salary, all three of my friends could think of nothing better to do than to fight him to the death!"
“We have, indeed, caused this little inconvenience to His Majesty,” Athos agreed. “But we did so solely out of respect for the nobility of the royal blood of the Duke.”
As Athos did not take the trouble to speak in a whisper, and as the friends had already reached the door of the inn, the last phrase was heard not only by those to whose ears it was addressed, but also by the man coming out of the door. It was Count Rochefort.
"Speak only for yourself, Count," said Rochefort, bowing to Athos and d'Artagnan. "I had other reasons. I was laughed at, I was considered incapable of anything, I have proved that I can still do a great deal."
“A noble deed done for ill-intentioned reasons is still noble,” Athos said softly. “The Count is slandering himself. All of us nobles are loyal servants of the King, but we are also servants of his family. The Duke de Beaufort belongs to the royal house, and our duty was to intercede for him. We have done so, and our mission is over. Moreover, being free, the Duke was able to make peace with the King, so our mission can no longer be considered criminal. After all, we have returned to France a commander who is so needed when France is in a state of war, even if not the greatest in the history of France, but an important one.
"We have not completed our mission, Count, the Duke of Beaufort has not reconciled with the King, he is in great danger," Rochefort replied. "I have it on good authority that there are men in his army who have been ordered to shoot him in the back during one of the battles. The Duke is not destined to return home from this battle."
- A thousand devils! - cried d'Artagnan. - Scoundrel Colbert! Just you wait! I'll get you!
“What makes you conclude, my friend, that the order was given by Colbert?” asked Athos.
"The King made peace with Beaufort and even sent him at the head of a good army to fight for the interests of France. All fighters must obey their commander," replied d'Artagnan. "But I have already encountered a situation where among the junior officers there are persons who have received special powers signed by the King. The author and compiler of these special powers is Monsieur Colbert.
“But why would Colbert, or even more so the King, kill the Duke of Beaufort?” Athos was surprised.
"Politics, Count!" replied d'Artagnan. "Beaufort, grandson of Henry IV, and for that reason alone he is popular with the people. After his release, he not only made peace with the King, but also received the positions of Grand Master, Chief, and Chief Superintendent of Navigation."
"He defeated the Turks twice, and once when the forces were approximately equal," Rochefort continued. "This man is rapidly gaining popularity among the people, the troops, and in the eyes of the entire nobility."
“He becomes dangerous to the King, and, consequently, to Colbert, who builds his plans solely on his influence on the King,” d’Artagnan concluded.
"We must save the Duke," said Athos, in a tone as if he were announcing his intention to take a stroll along a park path. "You, d'Artagnan, must be in Paris, you have been summoned there by the King, you cannot disobey the King's orders."
- Thunder strike me! - exclaimed the captain, - For once an opportunity arises to serve a just cause, to expose and pin Colbert's spies to a tree, and here I am powerless. I must go to Paris. But, listen, I know them by sight! They are most likely the same people who had Colbert's orders on my ship. Beaufort's expedition is also a naval one, it will be two or three officers! A thousand devils, I want to meet them in a fair fight!
“D’Artagnan, you will describe their appearance to us, and we will neutralize them,” said Athos, placing his hands on the captain’s shoulders.
“I don’t want to expose you to danger, Athos!” d’Artagnan replied weakly.
- You forget, my friend, that my son is fighting under the command of the Duke de Beaufort. For me, coming to the Duke's rescue is not only a question of honor and duty, but also a family matter. Any of these three reasons is enough to keep me from thinking about the dangers. Besides, I am not alone. Count Rochefort and Grimaud are with us.
“That certainly increases your chances against a dozen spies whose faces you don’t know,” the captain muttered skeptically.
- Already ten? - Athos was surprised. - You said there were three of them?
- But it was Colbert! He could have given three people to watch me, and three more to watch those three, and three or four more to watch those who were watching them. And not only to watch, but also, if necessary, to use a sword, a dagger, or a musket! - objected d'Artagnan.
“Then there’s a merry little affair ahead,” said Athos, imitating Porthos’s voice.
- Athos, I beg you! Don't turn into Porthos! I can't stand it! - cried d'Artagnan, after which the friends burst out laughing and hugged each other goodbye.

XXXVIII. The King's Command

As soon as d'Artagnan reached Paris, he appeared before the King.
Louis was conferring with Colbert about something when he was informed of the arrival of the captain of the musketeers.
A few minutes later, Colbert came out of the King's study, greeted d'Artagnan with great respect, and expressed his extreme pleasure in meeting him. The captain responded in the same manner, and only the observant Planchet, who had known the captain very closely and for a long time, could have discovered that d'Artagnan's cordiality had nothing to do with his own inner attitude towards this man. But Planchet was not there, so Colbert left very pleased with himself.
Entering the King, d'Artagnan bowed silently and kissed the royal hand that Louis kindly extended to him.
"Monsieur d'Artagnan, I am glad to see you," said the King. "You have carried out the last two orders impeccably."
“I am only Your Majesty’s servant,” the captain answered with dignity and bowed.
“I remember that,” Louis continued softly. “But I also remember that you are not very diligent in following my orders when it comes to your so-called friends.”
“In Your Majesty’s service, all orders have equal force for me,” replied d’Artagnan, who did not believe himself at that moment.
" Let us suppose so," the King agreed. "Last time you explained to me the reasons for your failure in your first attempt to carry out my order to arrest the Bishop of Vannes and the Baron du Valon. You explained to me that my order was thwarted by officers loyal to me, who were charged with protecting you from irreparable mistakes. Well, I can accept this explanation and I will give you a second try.
D'Artagnan bowed and prepared to hear the order to go after Aramis. "No big deal," he thought, "I'll be asked to chase Aramis through France, where he's been gone for a long time. I'll travel at the King's expense, and I'll come back empty-handed, all I have to do is gather evidence of my diligence in his search."
"As you know, Mr. Captain, a villainous attempt has been made on my most exalted person. The conspirators intended to exploit the external features of a person whose existence is a constant threat to the peace of France," the King continued. "In addition to you and me, this person himself and Mr. Fouquet are privy to this secret. Both of these people have been placed in places where they will not be able to profit from this secret and harm the peace of the state.
- Exactly so, Your Majesty! - answered d'Artagnan.
"I do not ask for your consent or approval of my words at this moment. In fact, I never ask for it," the King said coldly. "Just listen and remember."
D'Artagnan bowed to the King again, but more drily than before, indicating the bow only by inclining his head and shoulders.
“There are still a few people whose knowledge greatly hinders our ability to govern France, since this excessive knowledge will remain a constant threat to the state as long as these people remain at large.
"He's ordering Aramis to be arrested, I was right," thought d'Artagnan. "Well, I'll go. It's not the first time I've received such orders."
"Even those who are invested with our highest trust do not know what those in whom we have no trust know!" cried the King, fueling his anger with this phrase. "However, this does not apply to you, captain."
D'Artagnan bowed to the King, this time a little deeper.
"I am entrusting you with one important task, captain," said the King, "but do not ask me for a written order. Your receipt of the baton of the Marshal of France will depend on the fulfillment of this task. Now listen to me, captain, with the utmost attention."
D'Artagnan became wary and this time limited himself to giving his face as serious an expression as was possible with his moustache twisted jauntily upwards.
— You are charged to collect and bring me irrefutable proof of the death of my following enemies. First, the Bishop of Vannes, Monsieur d'Herblay, also called Aramis. Second, the Baron du Valon de Bracieux de Pierrefonds, also called Porthos. Third, the Count de La F;re, also called Athos. Fourth, the Vicomte de Bragelonne, who calls himself the fianc; of Mademoiselle de la Baume. Le Blanc de La Valli;re.
"Shall I arrest these persons?" asked d'Artagnan, pretending not to have quite heard the King's order.
"You have already received orders from me to arrest three of these four," Louis replied coldly. "Your execution of these orders does not satisfy me."
“If Your Majesty is dissatisfied with my service, I have already had the honor of asking for my resignation,” d’Artagnan reminded.
— Resignation from the civil service, Captain, does not give you the opportunity to disobey the King. As Captain of the Musketeers or as a private citizen, you remain a subject of the French Crown, a subject of your King, and are bound to carry out his orders. If you prefer to carry out this order as a private citizen, I will not object, but it seems to me that the Captain of the King's Musketeers has more opportunities for this assignment.
“I do not insist on resignation, Your Majesty,” said the captain, feeling the truth of the King’s last words.
"You have chosen correctly, Captain," replied the King. "I give you a month."
"May I go and do it?" asked d'Artagnan, intending to think about how he could save his friends.
“Don’t be hasty,” Louis said coldly. “I have not yet told you that my loyal officers will protect you from the mistakes you nearly made when you carried out my mission to Belle-Ile. If you attempt to send a letter to one of your friends, that letter will be delivered to me. If you attempt to send a messenger, that messenger will be delivered to me. If you attempt to help your friends escape, those friends of yours and you yourself will be delivered to me.”
D'Artagnan bowed with a single movement of his head.
“If I receive proof that you intended to evade my order, or if within a month from this very moment I do not receive from you irrefutable proof of the death of all the rebels I have indicated, or if I learn of an attempt on your part to free the prisoner of the castle of Pignerol, I will sign this order.
With these words the King handed the captain a paper on which d'Artagnan read the following text with horror.

"The King's order to Marshal Antoine III de Gramont

Immediately arrest, without negotiation, or kill the following state criminals guilty of high treason:

Bishop of Vannes, Lord d'Herblay,
Baron du Valon de Bracieux de Pierrefonds,
Count de la Fere,
Vicomte de Bragelonne,
Captain of the King's Musketeers, Monsieur d'Artagnan.

I deprive the named persons of their title of nobility, all ranks and their property, which must be transferred to the Royal Treasury.

To carry out this order, Marshal Antoine III de Gramont is allowed to call upon any officers and soldiers, both land and sea, throughout the territory of France.
Any citizen of France who knows the whereabouts of the said criminals and does not report this to Marshal Antoine III de Gramont personally or through officers subordinate to him, shall also be considered a state criminal and shall be dealt with in accordance with this order.

Louis"

“Have you read it?” asked the King.
“I have read it, Your Majesty,” replied d’Artagnan, turning pale.
"Read it out loud again," Louis said coldly. "I must be sure that you have understood the contents of this document in its entirety, without any omissions."

D'Artagnan read aloud the document offered to him in a calm, even voice, as if it were talking about some unknown rebels with whom he had no business.

"Take this draft," said the King. "I advise you to read over this order every night before going to bed and every morning of the following day, so that you will not have any false impression that anything has been omitted. You have plenty of time, but not so much that you should waste it in vain. And you have already lost ten minutes."
D'Artagnan bowed and headed towards the exit.
- Just a moment more, Captain! - exclaimed the King. - Know also that if you shoot yourself in the forehead, or accidentally fall on your sword, or perhaps you are killed in some untimely duel, I will still sign this paper. If you fall ill with some serious illness, or receive some wound by chance, in a word, if your state of health does not allow you to carry out my oral order, then even in this case I will sign this written order as soon as I learn of your illness. Now go.
D'Artagnan left the King, even forgetting to bow to him, but Louis did not pay any attention to this. Both of these men were too busy with their own thoughts and emotions to pay attention to such trifles. If Louis was triumphant over the impotence of his captain, then d'Artagnan felt a complete defeat on all fronts, which had never happened to him before in his life.

D'Artagnan's mood could perhaps be conveyed by the following song:

I have been serving my Fatherland for forty years,
He accumulated neither money nor palaces.
Maybe it's time for me to leave this life,
But I'm still not ready to die.

But what should I do, judge for yourself!
Better yet, swallow me up, earth!
The king orders to deal with friends,
And for me, my friends are more important than the King!

"You will be the marshal of the country,
We need people like this!
Tell me, what kind of people are these?
For forty years, please take into account,
This honor has never fallen to me -
Honor that is offered as a reward to Judas!

I have shed so much blood in forty years,
Someone else's is much more than your own,
My enemies will be wept over with widow's tears,
And all this to please the Kings.

Maybe I shouldn't rush into battle,
Like a hero from a song and epic tale?
Perhaps it would have been better not to fight,
Drop everything and go to a monastery?

To look with delight at the sky,
Roll your eyes as much as you can,
Mutter the stupidest prayers under your breath?
Lock yourself in a small world,
Far away from all battles,
And never hear the noise of battle.
 
 
XXXIX. The Idea of Planchet

D'Artagnan left the King's study in complete despair. The King had foreseen everything. This time, it was not the young boy he had once defended from the rebels of the Fronde, nor the inexperienced youth who had gratefully absorbed the advice of a seasoned warrior, who stood before d'Artagnan. This was a sober-minded, fully-fledged politician who would defend himself and his power without stopping at anything. He had even foreseen an attempt at suicide, which d'Artagnan would certainly have thought about, but he had not yet had time to consider this option for saving his friends, when it turned out that this was not an option at all, that it would not give the desired result. Any attempt by d'Artagnan to save his friends seemed doomed to failure. Invisible spies were watching him. He could not warn them by mail or send a messenger.
The King had entrusted him with this task because he was convinced that only he, d'Artagnan, would find his friends easier and faster than anyone else. As soon as he found them, Colbert's bloodhounds, who were following him, would also find them, seize them and bring them to the King, who would certainly be deaf to any pleas. Or perhaps they were ordered to kill his friends right away. Of course, with a sword in hand, it would not be easy for them to defeat the brave musketeers, but a treacherous shot in the back could put an end to the lives of his dearly beloved friends, and d'Artagnan could not allow this.
Without noticing where he was going, d'Artagnan came to the shop of his former servant Planchet.
- Monsieur d'Artagnan! - exclaimed Planchet. - How glad I am to see you! Come in, make yourself comfortable! You know that you can dine, breakfast, and supper with me whenever you like, and absolutely free of charge!
"A wonderful opportunity, dear Planchet, especially since I never take advantage of it," replied the captain of the musketeers. "But I should not have come to you. I myself do not understand why I did it."
"What are you saying, Captain?" Planchet was horrified. "Has my home and my hospitality really become a burden to you?"
"They're watching me, my dear, and I can't figure out who these people are, that's the thing," replied d'Artagnan. "Now they'll be watching you, too."
- What a surprise! - Planchet waved his hand. - Weren't we followed by the Cardinal's spies? And these spies are not fit to hold a candle to them. You forgot that I am very experienced in conspiracy, after all, I took part in the Fronde!
“Yes, you are a master at hiding, I remember how cleverly you hid from my orders,” d’Artagnan burst out laughing.
"Listen, Captain," Planchet said suddenly seriously. "Here is the key to the first room on the second floor. Go there and rest. In ten minutes your dinner will be brought to you. In twenty minutes I will come up to you, and we will decide what to do."
“I have absolutely no appetite, my friend Planchet,” d’Artagnan waved his hand.
"You complained of being followed, which means you were about to undertake a journey that those who had set up this surveillance should not know about," said Planchet. "Well, then, we will deceive those who are following you, so that you can go where you are supposed to go without hindrance. And before a long journey it is always necessary to refresh yourself, since on the road you never know when or where you will find a decent meal."
"There is much truth in your words, dear Planchet," agreed d'Artagnan. "Perhaps my appetite has returned. Order them to bring what you have for this occasion, and give me this key."

After d'Artagnan had destroyed the roast partridge and half a bottle of Burgundy, Planchet entered the room.
“Mr. Captain, my boys, who serve in the kitchen and other small matters, have found out that three officers are watching you at different ends of the street, blocking all your escape routes,” he reported.
"Only three!" cried d'Artagnan. "Shall I not impale them one by one on my sword? However, nonsense, Colbert will send three more, or thirty-three, if he thinks fit."
“I, too, thought that we would achieve nothing by shedding blood,” agreed Planchet. “Listen to what I have thought up. I have an assistant, his name is Fran;ois. He is the same height as you, and his gait also resembles yours. One day I saw him from behind and decided that it was you, and when I discovered that I was mistaken and it turned out that he was looking for work, I decided that this was the finger of fate, and immediately took him to the stable. I reasoned that such similarity of figure, posture, and height was created by God for a reason.”
"Brilliant, my dear Planchet!" cried d'Artagnan. "Call him quickly!"
“You will exchange clothes, and he…” Planchet continued.
- Yes, my friend, yes! We will send him on the longest journey, but not longer than a month. - continued d'Artagnan with enthusiasm. - Call him!
"Fran;ois, come in!" Planchet shouted, the doors opened and the man Planchet had spoken of appeared on the threshold.
“The nose is too big, and the moustache is too black, mine are already completely gray,” noted d’Artagnan, “If you put a mask on your face like the one I had recently, even Aramis would not distinguish him from me!”
"My Jeanette will sew the mask in ten minutes," said Planchet, "she will only have to take your measurements. We will sprinkle the moustache with flour. As for the nose..."
“Just don’t tell me that my nose is the same or even bigger,” the captain laughed.
“I didn’t mean to say that,” Planchet lied without batting an eye.
“Let Jeanette take Fran;ois’s measurements,” d’Artagnan ordered, “and while she sews, I will give him some instructions.”
Mademoiselle Jeanette entered, curtsied, and tenderly applied her tape measure to Fran;ois's face. She took the measure so delicately, and she herself was so young and fresh, that our captain repented that he had refused to have the measure taken from his face.
As soon as she disappeared behind the door, d'Artagnan began to outline his plan.
“ My dear Fran;ois,” he said, “do I understand correctly that you agree to make a short journey through France at my expense on my horse and in my clothes?”
"If these spies are not sent to kill you," Fran;ois replied, "then my journey will be pleasant and educational. If they have orders to kill you, then the journey will be even more exciting, but I fear disappointing those who sent them, since not all of them will return."
"Why, you are a Gascon!" cried d'Artagnan. "Gascon speech is unmistakable, as is Gascon courage, which people from other provinces mistakenly call boasting until they learn from the holes in their own skin that it is merely a statement of facts!"
“Monsieur Planchet has told me about you many times,” said Fran;ois modestly, “my house was no further from yours than Monsieur Planchet’s house was from the Louvre.
“In that case, my dear Fran;ois,” asked the captain, “why is such a brave young man serving in the stables, and not asking to join me as a musketeer?”
"My parents, although they belong to a noble family, are completely ruined," Fran;ois answered simply. "I have decided to conquer Paris, starting from the very bottom. Working for Monsieur Planchet, I have already saved up almost enough for a full outfit in three months; I only need to earn enough to buy a good horse and an excellent sword, after which I will ask to join the company of guards. It will not take more than three months."
“A nobleman serves Planchet?” the captain was surprised.
"Monsieur Perrin is breaking in two of my horses," Planchet said modestly. "And we agreed that I would open a small credit for him, which he could repay whenever he liked."
"That's different!" exclaimed the captain. "So you have to break in Planchet's horses for another three months?"
“Three months and a week, Captain,” the young man answered modestly.
“It will not take more than a month, since for this month, Fran;ois, you are hired by me at triple rate. I will personally choose your sword and horse,” replied d’Artagnan. “And for this month I will lend you my sword, my horse, and all my equipment. You will go towards Blois by the longest road. The spies will think that you are going to the Count, we will not mention his name, confusing the tracks. This is what they expect from me. They will set off on your trail. But halfway there you must turn off and go towards the Bracieux estate, also winding as much as possible. Before reaching Bracieux, you will turn again towards Blois, but you will go there by another long road. For twenty-five or thirty days you must not give anyone the opportunity to look at your face or hear your voice, that is your task.”
“The mask is ready,” Planchet reported. “In an hour it will be dark, and my men will go home. I have ordered that they all leave at the same time and go in different directions. You will leave with them, dressed as Fran;ois. Three spies will not be able to watch everyone at the same time. At that very moment, Fran;ois will leave the courtyard dressed as you are, and, spurring your horse, he will gallop in the direction indicated as fast as he can.”
" The three blockheads will rush after him, and I will go where I should have been long ago," d'Artagnan picked up. "Planchet, Fran;ois, I am your debtor! In the meantime, here is the money for expenses," with these words the captain threw a purse on the table, although not very heavy, but containing enough gold, which would have been enough for Fran;ois's two months' journey.
After this, the captain and Fran;ois exchanged clothes and began to carry out Planchet's plan.
 
XL. Baron du Valon

It happened exactly as Planchet had suggested. D'Artagnan disappeared among Planchet's group of assistants, while Fran;ois, with his moustaches made to look grey by the flour, in d'Artagnan's costume, mounted his horse and rode off in the direction of Blois. Colbert's spies followed him, one and all, mistaking him for d'Artagnan, while the real d'Artagnan rode straight to Nantes, where he had left Porthos.
Arriving at the hotel, he tied his horse and ran quickly up the stairs to the door of the room where he had left Porthos.
"Porthos, open the door, it's me, d'Artagnan!" he cried, as soon as he reached the door of the room in the tavern where he had left Porthos to recover his health.
"Well, finally!" the giant exclaimed, throwing back the bolt. "I confess, I've been sitting here too long!"
"What do I see, Porthos!" cried d'Artagnan, barely glancing at the giant. "You look wonderful, and this pleases me, but also saddens me! Now anyone who knew you will easily recognize you, whether from the face or from the back!"
"And my beard?" Porthos asked in surprise. "Doesn't it change my appearance?"
"The beard is magnificent, beyond words!" exclaimed the captain. "But there are hardly two or three more figures like yours in all of France. Such a beard could perhaps serve as some kind of disguise for me, or for Athos, but with your figure this means is insufficient."
"What else could I do?" Porthos said, offended. "I was just stagnating here, without moving, and if I had refused to eat, I would have simply died."
" You were sour without moving?" d'Artagnan was surprised, looking around the room.
“I tried to find some physical exercise for myself, but the furniture here is extremely fragile,” Porthos answered guiltily.
- You not only smashed the chairs and the table, but also broke the window sill! - the captain burst out laughing. - And what did you do with the poker?
"At first I just bent and straightened it," Porthos replied. "On the third day it broke in half. Then I began to bend and straighten the remaining halves.
- My God, Porthos! There are eight pieces of poker here! - d'Artagnan admired. - You are in excellent shape. But how can I hide you from prying eyes?
“I’m ready to change,” Porthos said modestly.
"Do you think there is a man in the world whose clothes might fit you, Porthos?" asked d'Artagnan, distrustfully.
“Something tells me that if my clothes fit this man, then his clothes will also fit me perfectly,” Porthos replied modestly but with dignity.
"You mean Mousqueton?" cried d'Artagnan. "How could I have forgotten him?"
“He asks to be called Muston,” Porthos reminded.
“All that remains is to call him here,” said the captain.
“He has already been summoned and is already living in the room below,” answered Porthos.
- I asked you to refuse any contacts, Porthos! - the captain was amazed. - By God, you are like a little child! After all, Colbert's spies could have tracked you down!
“The thing is, Suzanne…” Porthos answered. “That’s the name of the local maid.”
“I guessed, go on,” d’Artagnan nodded.
“We have established a relationship of trust, you know,” Porthos whispered in a conspiratorial tone.
"Yes, I think so!" the captain chuckled. "I hope her bones weren't as fragile as the furniture in this tavern!"
“Suzanne’s family lives near Pierrefonds, and she sends part of her earnings to her mother,” said Porthos.
“And when she found out that you are the same rich baron who owns three neighboring estates…” the captain nodded.
"She was very kind to me before she knew who I was," Porthos replied modestly. "I don't write poetry or play the lute, of course, but I have some talents that may appeal to the ladies!" the baron added proudly.
"I never doubted that for a moment," agreed d'Artagnan. "So Suzanne, through her friend, called Muston here."
“Through a cousin,” Porthos corrected.
- So be it, through a cousin, - the captain agreed. - But he is a little shorter than you, isn't he? By the way, where is he?
 "He'll be right here," said Porthos, stamping his feet three times on the floor. "You know, my poor Mouston, he loves me so much, and strives to be like me in everything. Remember when he overindulged a little in the gastronomic sense and accidentally allowed himself to get so fat that the clothes made to his measurements didn't fit me?"
“This is the first time I’ve heard of this!” d’Artagnan exclaimed in admiration.
“Well then, I’ll tell you,” Porthos rejoiced.
- No need, I already understood everything, - the captain interrupted him, - let's return to the main line of your story. So, Muston adores you and strives to be like you in everything. What next? Has he grown up?
“Not exactly,” Porthos clarified. “But he had high-heeled boots made for himself, so that when he walks, from a distance it would seem that he is as tall as me.”
" This is very opportune," d'Artagnan rejoiced. "Fate itself sends us gifts. First Fran;ois, then Mouston!"
“Who is Fran;ois?” Porthos asked.
"Later," the captain waved it off. "Apparently Mother Nature has decided to amaze our imaginations this year, dear Baron, and she is presenting us with one double after another. First the twins, then these coincidences of figures.
"What twins are you talking about, d'Artagnan?" asked Porthos.
- I was talking about twins? - the captain was surprised. - No, not at all, I only said that Muston's figure really can look like yours from afar, if only you would change your proud gait to the soft gait of a servant.
"I will try," replied Porthos. "But you spoke of twins. You were speaking of the King's brother. Do not think that I am as slow-witted as Aramis thinks me.
"Porthos, my dear Porthos, I do not think you slow-witted," cried d'Artagnan. "On the contrary, I have a high opinion of your intelligence, but I thought that Aramis was not very frank with you."
"Aramis's frankness is as rare as apples on a birch tree," replied Porthos. "But there are times when even the most secretive man can no longer hide his plans from his friends, if, of course, he considers them his friends," replied the Baron calmly. "What Aramis did not tell me, I understood by comparing the facts. I have had enough time to think, believe me. After all, I did not only eat and break furniture.
“Dear Porthos!” d’Artagnan admired and hugged the baron tightly.
As soon as Porthos tried to respond with an equally strong embrace, d'Artagnan, taught by experience, quickly recoiled.
"Remember, my friend, that my bones are only a little stronger than these chairs and tables!" he exclaimed, and added, "These former chairs and tables."
Muston did not climb the stairs very quickly, but by the end of this conversation he was already standing in the doorway.
- Monsieur d'Artagnan! - he exclaimed. - I am so glad to see you! After all, it was you who saved our dear Baron!
"Nothing of the sort, Muston! The Baron would have saved himself, I only hastened his release a little," d'Artagnan modestly objected, who equally disliked feeling himself obliged to anyone, and disliked anyone else feeling obliged to him.
"My dear Mouston, we must part again," said Porthos. "I am very glad that your figure is similar to mine; we will exchange clothes and I will go to Pierrefonds on business for a short time. Later we will meet in another place, which Monsieur d'Artagnan will tell you about."
“It makes me very sad,” Muston sobbed.
"I am glad that Muston has decided to grow a beard," d'Artagnan noted. "Tell me, Muston, how long have you been wearing it? Have you been seen like this in Pierrefonds?"
"I have not shaved since the Baron left Pierrefonds," replied Mouston. "That is more than two years."
- Excellent! - exclaimed the captain. - Only the color does not suit. Ask the innkeeper for henna, if he has none, send for it immediately. Porthos, you will be red-haired.
"I am ready," sighed Porthos, "if I see my dear estates of Pierrefonds and Bracieux again, I am ready to be red-haired. I am even ready to dye my beard blue, pink or green, if necessary."
“I don’t think Europe will ever become so wild that a man can appear in the street with a blue, green or pink beard without being considered mad!” replied d’Artagnan. “Just imagine! It’s as absurd as if a man were to wear women’s clothes and demand to be called by a woman’s name! Why, it’s even worse than the behavior of Henry III’s minions! You amuse me, Porthos!”


XLI. The Testament of Porthos

Despite the disguise, d'Artagnan and Porthos, dressed as ordinary people, did not set out in broad daylight, but preferred to set out for Pierrefonds at dusk and rode all night. During the day, the travelers slept, and at night they continued their journey, which, although difficult, passed without any particular adventures. Fortunately, Porthos's horses knew the way home very well.
Having stopped on the way to see a lawyer they knew, who had inherited Mr. Coquenard's business not without the Baron's help, and was therefore extremely grateful to him, d'Artagnan and Porthos entered his office, having first made sure that there would be no other witnesses.
- Mr. Baron! How glad I am to see you! - exclaimed the lawyer.
"Only for a short while," d'Artagnan clarified. "We've come on business and are in a hurry."
“Let me explain,” Porthos intervened. “Monsieur Duvalier, as you know, I made out my will with you.”
“I don’t remember,” Duvalier said, embarrassed. “Nothing gets lost in my office.”
- On the very day you received Mr. Coquenard's internship, don't you remember? - Porthos was surprised. - Damn it! Did I forget to send it to you? The devil's absent-mindedness! - with these words, Porthos hit the table with his fist. A huge crack appeared across the entire tabletop.
"Don't worry so much, dear Baron!" the lawyer hastened to reassure Porthos, who was already imagining how Porthos would smash all the furniture in the office to pieces in a rage. "You can record your will at any time, even at this very moment."
- Perhaps so, - Porthos calmed down. - No, that won't do! After all, I have, how can I explain it to you, a certain young relative.
"Nephew?" asked Master Duvalier.
“No, even closer than a nephew,” Porthos waved it off.
“So, a son?” asked the surprised lawyer.
" Mr. Advocate," d'Artagnan intervened. "It is not proper for you, as an advocate, to inquire so minutely about the degree of kinship of your very wealthy client. If Monsieur Baron wishes to leave all his property to the young man, it is your business to draw up this will and to have it certified, is it not? If Monsieur Baron asserts that this young man is very near and dear to him, it is your business to agree with this. If Monsieur Baron considers it indelicate that the son of his close friend should be called Monsieur Baron's son..."
“I understand everything!” the lawyer replied.
“But I told him on his recent birthday that I had made a will!” lamented Porthos. “How will I look him in the eye when he finds out that the will was made only today?”
“Of course, it is not proper to put a different date on the will,” the lawyer said regretfully.
“At least a month earlier?” asked Porthos, taking out a heavy purse.
“I might be mistaken in the name of the month!” the lawyer exclaimed.
“Such mistakes are quite excusable,” agreed Porthos.
“But imagine how happy the young man will be!” added d’Artagnan.
“I will show him the will today, and he will not consider himself deprived,” added Porthos.
“But tomorrow the young man is going to war, think about it, my friend!” added d’Artagnan.
“A good deed will be credited to you in heaven,” Porthos continued.
“And not only on them,” said d’Artagnan, pushing the purse towards the lawyer.
There are very strong arguments in the sublunary world, such as, for example, the urgent desire to please a man who is leaving to fulfill his military duty. But sometimes the argument of a fat purse is even more convincing. I cannot say for sure which of the arguments had the stronger effect on the lawyer, since I know the morals of lawyers of that time somewhat less well than the morals of lawyers today, but considering the inscription on King Solomon's ring, which reads "Nothing changes", I think I will not be mistaken if I assume that Porthos's last argument played its decisive role. Thirty pistoles are more convincing than thirty words, even if Demosthenes himself had spoken them.
In half an hour the will was drawn up and ratified in all the required form, sealed and solemnly presented to Porthos. It bore a date which preceded by a week the date of the news of Porthos's death in the fortress of Belle-Ile.
"Monsieur Duvalier," said d'Artagnan, "who manages the affairs of your office in your absence?"
“My partner Gortier,” replied the lawyer.
“In other words, if you decide to take a rest on the southern coast, and, for example, tomorrow, we do not find you here, we can completely rely on Monsieur Gortier?” asked Porthos.
“You have nothing to worry about, because I’m not going anywhere,” Duvalier smiled.
“But Monsieur du Valon, in gratitude for your small service, would like you to rest for at least a week or two,” objected d’Artagnan.
“You know, I wouldn’t mind taking a rest, of course, but I somehow didn’t think about it,” Duvalier doubted.
“Then think about it, damn you!” exclaimed Porthos, and placed the second purse in front of the lawyer.
"Do we need to go now?" Duvalier asked quietly, gently reaching out his hand towards the wallet.
“You will be uncomfortable at night,” d’Artagnan replied condescendingly.
“Leave tomorrow morning, at dawn,” confirmed Porthos.
 
The next day, only his companion Gortier remained in Master Duvalier’s office.
D'Artagnan and Porthos entered his room with a mournful step, with Porthos covering his face with a crumpled, damp handkerchief and sobbing all the time.
"Monsieur Gortier, if I am not mistaken?" inquired d'Artagnan.
- Yes, that's right, who do I have the honor of meeting? - asked the lawyer.
"You don't recognize Muston?" the captain was surprised. "He's the manager of Monsieur Baron du Valon de Bracieux de Pierrefonds!"
“I don’t know him very well, but I’ve heard a lot about him, forgive me, it’s very nice to meet you!” the lawyer replied.
“There is little pleasant here,” the captain continued. “We need to certify the death of the Baron.”
- The Baron is dead! - the lawyer cried out with feigned grief. - What a pity. Where is the doctor's report?
— There is a written statement from Monsieur d'Artagnan, captain of the king's musketeers, that he found the crushed body of his friend, the Baron du Valon, on the island of Belle- Ile, in the cave of Locmaria. I am Monsieur the captain's orderly, Charles de Castelmore, and this, as you understand, is Monsieur the Baron's steward. We both also testify that we were present at the identification.
“Well, this evidence is quite sufficient,” said the lawyer, “that is, it would be quite sufficient if it weren’t for…”
"No ifs," interrupted d'Artagnan. "Do you know that the position of captain of the king's musketeers in France is almost equal to the rank of marshal?"
“I know that,” the lawyer lied, “but…”
"So an official document from the Marshal of France and the testimony of two respected citizens of France are not enough for you?" asked d'Artagnan. "And you do not believe in the grief of this venerable steward, the Baron?"
At these words, Porthos let out such a mournful groan that the crystal decanter on the lawyer's table trembled.
- By the way, what is the fee for issuing a death certificate, Mr. Gortier?
— For the average city dweller...
"We are talking about the baron!" exclaimed the captain.
“Two pistols,” the lawyer answered modestly.
"Two pistoles for the Baron!" cried d'Artagnan. "You are joking! This is an insult to his memory! Twenty pistoles, no less!"
And he put it on a purse, which clearly contained the said amount.
“The document will be ready in half an hour,” the lawyer replied, covering the wallet with a document folder.
Forty minutes later, d'Artagnan and Porthos left the lawyer's office.
"So, Porthos, you are dead, and Raoul is your sole heir and the owner of all your wealth. We have left the King high and dry twice!" cried d'Artagnan.
“But the King can also take away Raoul’s inheritance and deprive him of his noble title,” Porthos doubted.
- Wait, not so fast. The King has asked me to bring four pieces of documentary evidence, we have one in our hands. We have finished one case, there are three more to go. Yours was the simplest. I need to think.
“And I need to eat,” said Porthos.
- Well, let's go to the tavern! - d'Artagnan exclaimed cheerfully. - At the same time, let's remember the soul of the glorious Musketeer du Valon!
“Barone du Valon,” Porthos corrected.
"I remember!" smiled d'Artagnan. "We must remember three: Baron du Valon, Monsieur de Bracieux, and Monsieur de Pierrefonds!"
“Then let’s eat and drink to all three of us!” Porthos chimed in.

The next day the friends met at an inn near the road to Pierrefonds with Mouston.
"My dear Mouston," said Porthos, "you must go to Pierrefonds and see to my funeral."
"What do you mean a funeral?" cried the astonished manager.
"Since my body is buried under a huge stone in the cave of Locmaria on the island of Belle- Ile, bury an empty coffin in the family crypt," explained Porthos. "Tradition must be observed and my ashes must rest next to those of my ancestors."
"How dare I?" Muston stammered.
"That's the way it must be, my dear," d'Artagnan reassured him. "Either tomorrow you bury the coffin without the Baron inside and pretend that you are immensely grief-stricken, or in less than a month you will have to bury the same coffin, but with the Baron inside. The Baron and I choose the first option, and you should simply do what your master has ordered you to do, but the Baron is kind enough to explain to you the reasons for his decision.
- Ah! - sighed Muston. - I am so attached to Your Lordship that this event will be heartbreaking for me. How can I imagine that I am actually burying Your Lordship?
"My Lordship forbids you to imagine this," Porthos said firmly. "My Lordship wishes to take you with her to the place to which My Lordship will depart in the very near future. Therefore, if you wish to depart with My Lordship, do as you are told."
"So you are taking me with you?" cried Muston. "What should I do? If you order me to die for Your Lordship, I will not hesitate for a moment!"
- That is exactly what My Highness will order you to do, but only for show! - laughed Porthos. - You cannot simply leave with me without being followed by the bloodhounds of one whose name you do not need to know. Just remember that you must feign death when you can find a convincing reason and feign it with sufficient credibility. The doctor has already been warned, two hundred pistoles will guarantee that he will confirm your death, after which the servants will carry you into the house. After that, you can join me, I will send Suzanne for you.
"Ah, Suzanne!" cried Muston enthusiastically. "Your envoy, who summoned me to Nantes!"
- Easy, my friend! - said Porthos, feigning anger. - You haven't set your sights on her, have you? Watch out, I'll tear your head off! - in the mouth of the giant this threat, which is usually perceived by everyone as metaphorical, sounded quite credible.
"What would you say, Your Highness!" cried Muston. "Everything connected with you is sacred to me!"
- Well, that's it! - the baron burst out laughing.

XLII. The Funeral of Porthos

May my dear readers forgive me, I have already described the funeral of my dear Porthos. I put into this description my whole soul and all my talent, the existence of which was confirmed to me by several publishers, and by which they assured me that I can perhaps occasionally boast of its presence. I have never written and do not intend to describe the same scene twice, especially if the first time it was so successful that reading it several years later does not cause me either shame for what I wrote or sympathy for those readers who spent time reading it.
So, I refer those who are eager to know how Porthos's funeral took place in his absence to the third book of my novel, The Vicomte de Bragelonne.
Since d'Artagnan's presence at his friend's funeral did not contradict the King's order, but, on the contrary, fully complied with it, since to carry out this order the captain would have to withdraw the death certificate in the King's name, ordering the notary to make a certified copy of it for the will proceedings, the captain openly appeared at the funeral service, where he witnessed the general grief, the reading of the will, and the imaginary death of the faithful Mouston, played out as if by notes.
Porthos insisted on inviting a small military orchestra, which consisted of retired musicians who had settled in Pierrefonds at Porthos's expense for some time. These five were accustomed to entertaining the Baron's less than musical servants with mainly bravura music, since they did not know how to play "touching marches", it was to be expected that this time they would also play ceremonial marches. However, realizing that generous payment for far from the best performance of not the best music and participation in the Baron's feasts, where the cuisine could compete with the famous cuisine of such famous gourmets as Henri Resson, Alexandre Grimaud de La Reyni;re, Antoine Beauvilliers, Henri Louis Duval, Marie Antoine Car;me, Alexandre Viard and Antoine Beauvilliers. In Porthos's time, most of these venerable Frenchmen did not yet exist, but they could well have learned many useful recipes from the Baron du Valon's cuisine. Realizing that these Lucullus feasts had now ceased forever for them, the musicians experienced sincere sadness, bordering on universal grief, which is why the sounds they extracted from the copper devices for torturing the ears of those present were so heartbreaking that the faces of all those present lengthened, their noses stung, and tears of deepest sorrow appeared in the corners of their eyes.
At the end of this sound art, poor Mouston let out a long cry and collapsed unconscious before the eyes of the entire sobbing audience, so that d'Artagnan was really afraid that the poor fellow had really died. Quite sincerely, he ordered a doctor to be called, and when the doctor, who had been paid in advance, announced that poor Mouston was dead, even the seasoned captain decided that instead of a comedy, a tragedy had taken place, and Mouston's heart had really broken with grief. However, noticing how Mouston's eyelashes were trembling, he, although he had played out grief and death with the greatest talent, could not play the dead man for long due to the great sensitivity of his nature, often found in overweight people.
The servants picked up Muston and carried him carefully into the house, as they had been told. That same night he set out for England after his master, and two days later a closed coffin was buried in the cemetery near the chapel, containing Muston's clothes, filled with stones and rags, to represent the body of the deceased.
"The King ordered me to execute the Baron, and I have done away with him and his steward!" cried d'Artagnan, seeing Mouston return to the inn. "My friend, you cannot travel with us; two such giants riding together are too disconcerting a sight to hope to cover our tracks. You will go to England alone and make all preparations for our arrival. We must go to the rescue of Athos and Raoul."
“Are they in danger?” Porthos asked worriedly.
- Of course! - answered d'Artagnan. - And double!
"Then what are we waiting for?" exclaimed Porthos. "Let's go!"
“Let’s go,” d’Artagnan picked up, and the friends headed to where Raoul was seeking his own death, performing the duties of adjutant to the Duke de Beaufort, Colbert’s mysterious spies were preparing a treacherous shot in the Duke’s back, Athos and Rochefort were trying to get ahead of them and save the Duke from this shot, and other spies of Colbert, perhaps, were waiting for d’Artagnan to make sure that he was carrying out the King’s order, or to carry out this order in his place, after which they would deal with him as well.

 XLIII. A plan is needed

“You know, Porthos, your beard is not as red as it used to be,” d’Artagnan noted during one of the stops at the tavern.
"I don't have to pretend to be Muston any more," replied Porthos. "Let her take her natural colour, I don't care."
“We need a plan, and I don’t have one,” said d’Artagnan.
- What could be simpler? - Porthos was surprised. - We have already faked my death, and you even have a death certificate. Let's do the same with Athos and Raoul, and no one will get Aramis!
“The idea is not bad in principle, but it has its weak points,” objected d’Artagnan. “It is very dangerous to repeat ourselves, they may see through us. If your pretended death under the stone did not require special preparation and went like clockwork, the pretended death of Mouston was not so necessary, and it may alert Colbert’s spies. Repeating the same scenes may cause distrust of the entire play. But that is not what worries me.”
“What is troubling you, d’Artagnan?” asked the baron.
"The Count de la Fere is not the kind of man to feign his own death." "It won't be easy to persuade him to go to the show," the captain said thoughtfully.
"You'll manage," said Porthos with a serene smile. "You always come up with a plan that only needs to be implemented, and you can rely on me for that!"
"It will be even more difficult with Raoul," d'Artagnan continued to think out loud. "The young man is disappointed in love and seeks death. To suggest that he feign death and save himself would be to insult him and at the same time spur him on to reckless actions. If we tell him that he is in danger, he will only laugh in our faces. If we tell him how to avoid this danger, he will do everything to prevent us."
“Then we just have to kidnap him,” said Porthos.
- How to kidnap? - d'Artagnan was surprised.
"Very simple," replied Porthos. "After all, you yourself told me how you kidnapped General Monk. You grabbed him and put him in a box.
- Are you proposing to put Raoul in the box? - cried d'Artagnan. - No, no and no! It would be too great a humiliation for his vulnerable heart. But you know, Porthos, it seems to me that I must start from your idea. I have a feeling that the solution is somewhere nearby. I just can't comprehend it yet, much less formulate it. But it certainly exists.
“You can handle it,” Porthos said again.

XLIV. General of the Jesuit Order

We left Aramis on the king's ship in the captain's cabin. It's time to tell how events unfolded on this ship.
Two hours of sleep were enough for Aramis to fully restore his strength. After that, he called the captain, who had not gone to bed at all.
"Your name?" asked Aramis.
"D'Argenson," the captain replied. "The fourth degree of initiation."
"From this moment, d'Argenson, your rank rises to the third rank," said Aramis, and extended his hand with the ring of the general of the order to the captain to kiss. "You must identify all of Colbert's special messengers on this ship, tell me their names, and bring them one by one to this office for a conversation. You will receive further instructions directly from me, or from the person who tells you the next password.
After this, Aramis whispered some words in the captain's ear.
"I will name two of them to Monseigneur right now," replied d'Argenson. "They are Lieutenant du Chante and Lieutenant d'Aunay."
“Invite du Chante to see me,” ordered Aramis.
Three minutes later a young lieutenant entered the room.
"Monsieur du Chante," said Aramis coldly, "you have some orders from Monsieur Colbert, I know about that."
“These orders were given to me by Monsieur Colbert, but they come from the King of France, which gives me special powers on this ship,” replied the lieutenant.
“Come on,” Aramis said dryly, holding out his hand with a gesture that completely excluded disobedience.
"I am ordered to produce these documents in special cases," replied du Chante. "This is not such a special case, as far as I can judge."
" You can't judge anything at all," said Aramis softly, but at the same time extremely coldly. "Captain d'Argenson, come in!" he added distinctly and somewhat louder.
“What would Monsignor like?” asked the captain, who had just entered the cabin.
"Please repeat where this ship is heading?" asked Aramis.
“Wherever Your Grace pleases,” the captain replied.
"This officer claims to have orders from the King that can force you to countermand my orders, is that true?" continued Aramis.
“No orders will make me disobey you, Your Eminence,” the captain replied with a bow.
"One last question, captain," said Aramis. "If I were to order you to throw Lieutenant du Chante and Lieutenant d'Aunay overboard, what would you do?"
"Should we tie them up first, or just throw them out?" d'Argenson inquired.
“I haven’t decided yet,” Aramis replied. “Thank you, go.”
After the captain left the cabin, Aramis continued the conversation.
“You must realize, du Chant;, that in the world and in France itself there is a power stronger than your miserable King,” said Aramis in a didactic tone. “This power will reach you anywhere and at any time. As for that worthless Colbert, I do not even want to talk about him. I can do anything to you, Monsieur du Chant;. Do you believe me?”
“I believe you, Monseigneur,” replied du Chante. “But I am an officer, and am accustomed to the idea of dying in the performance of my duty.”
- Really? - Aramis exclaimed approvingly. - Are you a Catholic?
“Of course,” replied du Chante.
“What is your attitude towards the Jesuit Order?” Aramis asked quietly and clearly.
“My attitude to religion concerns only me and the Lord, you will not intimidate me,” du Chante answered boldly.
Then Aramis made a secret sign, after which du Chante's face changed.
“I see you understand some things well enough,” nodded Aramis. “Then why do you think the captain listens to my orders and disobeys the King’s?”
"Are you a second-level member of the Order?" du Shante said, frightened.
“Aim higher,” Aramis answered dryly.
“First level?” the lieutenant stammered.
"Do you see this?" asked Aramis, showing his ring.
"Good God!" exclaimed du Chante. "General!"
With these words, du Chante fell on his knees and kissed the stone on Aramis's ring.
“My life, my deeds, my family belong to you, dispose of them, Monseigneur!” exclaimed du Chante.
"Stand up," said Aramis softly. "You will tell me the names of all of Colbert's spies on this ship."
“De Trabuson, d'Aunay and myself,” replied du Chante.
"Do you know of any spies of Colbert's on other ships or in the land forces?" Aramis inquired.
“No, Monsignor,” the lieutenant replied.
“Okay,” said Aramis. “Give me your papers.”
The lieutenant took an envelope from his pocket and handed it to Aramis. The prelate opened the envelope and extracted a document which read:

"The bearer of this, Lieutenant du Chante, has the authority to arrest or put to death the state criminals Bishop d'Herblay of Vannes and Baron du Valon de Pierrefonds de Bracieux. All civil servants and all military officers are required to assist Lieutenant du Chante in the execution of this order. For failure to assist or for obstructing the execution of this order, the said persons will be held accountable to the fullest extent of wartime, up to and including execution by firing squad for nobles and officers or hanging for soldiers and commoners.
 
"Louis."

“Very well,” said Aramis, putting the order back into the envelope. “This paper will remain with me for now, and I will decide what to do with it. You will receive further instructions tomorrow morning. Go.”
After du Chante had left, Aramis ordered the captain to invite Lieutenant d'Aunay to his cabin.

"Are you a Catholic?" Aramis asked Lieutenant d'Aunay after he had entered the cabin and sat down on the chair offered to him.
"No more than is required for a peaceful life in a Catholic state, and no less than the Church and the monarchy demand of me," the lieutenant replied. "But all my relatives are Catholics, and I regularly attend church. There is nothing to reproach me for, but if you suggest that I become a priest, this path is not for me."
“What do you know about the Jesuit Order?” asked Aramis.
“I know that such an Order exists, but what does it matter to me?” the lieutenant replied and shrugged his shoulders.
“So you serve the King not for religious reasons, but for career reasons,” Aramis noted.
"It's my business who I serve and for what reasons," d'Aunay replied discontentedly. "If this is an interrogation, then first explain to me by what right you are conducting it on me, after that I will think about whether to answer you or not."
Aramis made a secret sign, to which the lieutenant paid no attention.
"Do you know that I can order the captain to throw you overboard, and he will carry out the order without blinking an eye?" asked Aramis.
"So you're an admiral?" the lieutenant asked calmly. "But if I'm not guilty of anything, why throw me overboard?"
- And because you have documents, relying on the contents of which, you intend to cause a mutiny on the ship, - answered Aramis. - And mutineers on ships at all times were thrown overboard or hanged from the yardarm. Choose what you like best.
“I have no such documents and I do not intend to start a rebellion,” replied Lieutenant d’Aunay, without losing his composure.
- This document was given to you by Colbert, he gave you an envelope in which there was supposedly an order signed by the King. In fact, this order is forged. It was composed by Colbert himself, who is a state criminal, he forged the signature of the King and convinced you that this order gives you the right to command even the captain of this ship, isn't that right?
“You are mistaken, sir, what’s your name again?” the lieutenant objected calmly.
“If you please, I will reproduce the text of this order for you from memory,” smiled Aramis. “This order reads as follows: ‘The bearer of this, Lieutenant d’Aunay, has the authority to arrest or put to death the state criminals Bishop d’Herblay of Vannes and Baron du Valon de Pierrefonds de Bracieux. All civil servants and all army ranks are required to assist Lieutenant d’Aunay in the execution of this order. For failure to assist or for obstructing the execution of this order, the said persons will be held accountable to the full extent of wartime, including execution by firing squad for nobles and officers or hanging for soldiers and commoners. Signed: Louis.”
Lieutenant d'Aune turned pale, but tried not to show it.
"Will you dispute it?" asked Aramis.
“If I had such an order,” he replied, “ and if circumstances arose in which I had to carry out such an order, then I would not be a rebel, but an executor of the king’s will.
"Provided that the order were genuine," smiled Aramis. "But since we know that it is a forgery by Colbert, you become an accomplice to a crime against the King's will, a state criminal, a rebel who must be hanged or thrown into the sea, where you have no chance of being saved, especially if a cannonball in a sack is tied to your feet and your hands are tied. You must admit that swimming in such a position is very difficult."
“You won’t do that,” said the lieutenant, turning even paler.
"Captain!" cried Aramis.
As soon as the captain entered the cabin, Aramis asked:
"Captain d'Argenson, we have had a talk with Lieutenant d'Aunay, and I am sending him on a diplomatic mission to the bottom of the sea," he said to the captain. "To speed up the journey to his final destination, he will need a cannonball, which should be placed in a sack and tied to his feet, after which you will lower my envoy into the sea. He will not need his sword on the way, he will leave it here."
“It shall be done, monseigneur,” replied the captain. “Lieutenant, your sword!”
"By what right?!" d'Aunay exclaimed with a squeal.
"I can cancel my mission if you undertake to carry out some other orders of mine that do not involve immersion in sea water," Aramis replied with a wicked smile. "But first you will give me the letter whose existence you just denied."
"There it is, damn you!" cried the lieutenant. "It is violence, but I recognize your right of the strong and submit to your authority."
"Thank you, captain," Aramis replied, nodding his head to indicate that he could go. "And you, lieutenant, stay a few more minutes."
“If you don’t run me through with your sword,” d’Aunay replied apprehensively.
- No, what are you saying! - Aramis smiled. - That's not necessary, you're a very understanding officer.
“What do you want from me?” asked the lieutenant.
"Your full name, d'Aunay, you say?" demanded Aramis.
“Lieutenant of the Royal Guard, Jean-Pierre d'Aunay,” replied the lieutenant.
“Take paper and pen, sit down and write the following,” said Aramis, after which he began to dictate.
"I, lieutenant of the royal guard Jean-Pierre d'Aunay, having met the Bishop of Vannes, Monsieur d'Herblay, voluntarily handed him an order signed by the King of France, Louis XIV, handed to me by Monsieur de Colbert. In doing so, I was aware that I was violating this order, since I considered it to be forged. I undertake not to obey any orders received from Monsieur de Colbert, no matter who signed them.
Signed: Jean-Pierre d'Aunay"
"Put today's date and your signature," said Aramis. "If the order is forged, such a paper will prove that you are not an accomplice of the rebels and will protect you from the King's wrath. In that case, you will realize that I have saved your life, and will henceforth serve me faithfully and truly."
"But what if the order that Colbert gave me, and which you took from me, is not a forgery?" asked d'Aunay, handing Aramis a document written under his dictation with his signature.
“Just a minute, I’ll read it to make sure everything is written correctly,” Aramis replied, reading the document.
Having made sure that everything was written accurately, he put the document in the same envelope where the King’s order lay, hid the envelope in his bosom and absentmindedly asked again:
— You seemed to ask something?
“I asked what would happen if the order that Colbert gave me, and which you took from me, was not forged?” d’Aunay repeated again.
"In that case, you are a state criminal and subject to execution by hanging, as stated in the document itself," Aramis answered coolly. "And what exactly is the matter? Why does this worry you so much?"
"You have deceived me!" cried d'Aunay with hatred. "You have ruined me! You have forced me to write a denunciation of myself!"
“One moment,” replied Aramis. “I have persuaded you not to go to the bottom as my ambassador, but if you have changed your mind, I am ready to return to the first proposal, and the captain, as you have seen, will help me in this. You have agreed to carry out some of my assignments.” “I required a small guarantee of your diligence, since I do not intend to accompany you in the execution of my assignments. You will always remember that if you decide to deceive me, your confession will be delivered to Monsieur Colbert along with the order he has handed you. How this may end for you, guess for yourself. If, however, you do not deceive me, and carry out my assignments exactly, then this letter will remain with me as a small souvenir in memory of our acquaintance. However, my assignments will be few, they will not be burdensome for you, and upon their completion you will be able to receive both documents at your complete disposal. Does this turn of affairs suit you, or shall we return to the discussion of your mission at the bottom of the sea?”
"What am I to do?" Lieutenant d'Aunay asked gloomily.
“I give you until morning to consider the pros and cons of the new position you find yourself in, and in the morning you will receive instructions on what you are to do,” replied Aramis. “And I advise you not to attempt to assassinate me. These documents will not be kept by me, I assure you, and if anything happens to me, they will be immediately delivered to Colbert. You have had the opportunity to see that I have allies and assistants on this ship, including the captain, so that I am now the owner of this ship, and the supreme power on it, no matter what letters you or your accomplices may have with you. I am the power confirmed by the Pope, the same Pope of Rome, by whose power Kings are crowned in Catholic countries. And this power of mine, according to the document signed by the Pope, is higher than the power of the King. It is the special power of the Pope’s vanguard in the cause of Catholicism, the power of the Order of the Jesuits.” Remember this: our power is great, it knows no state borders, it erases these borders when they get in its way. We have our cities in the New World and someday the entire New World will be ours. Our envoys initiate the aborigines of all continents into our faith, thereby increasing the size of our unofficial empire. And the Kings of Catholic states wage wars with non-Catholic states in order to expand the territory on which submission to the Pope is the most important and fundamental form of submission. Since the voice of the Pope is spoken by the Lord himself. And the power of the Lord has no territorial limitations, he is one for the whole world. If it were possible to move to other planets, then there too we would establish our dominion, for which the earth is too small. You are not a traitor, you simply submitted to the power that is higher than the power of your King. And if not everyone knows about this, it is only because we do not want unnecessary publicity. When we decide that the time has come, we will replace disloyal kings with loyal ones, and if necessary, we will replace entire dynasties. In England, a country rebellious against the Pope, chaos reigns, which our Order simply does not prevent from spreading. That is why in England every century the death penalty of the legitimate monarch by beheading takes place. In the current century, King Charles was executed, in the last century, the legitimate Queen Mary Stuart was executed. France is submitting to the power of the Pope, and therefore any rebellion against the legitimate King, the Pope's anointed, is doomed to failure. And that is why the first minister of every King is a Catholic cardinal, and the confessor of the King is a Jesuit. The King knows that if the order of the general of the Order of the Jesuits contradicts the order of His Majesty, then each member of this Order is obliged to carry out the order of the general of the Order, ignoring the order of the King. The King knows this and does not object to it. This is the power that has forced you to submit to itself. You simply had no choice. Humble yourself, for it will be humility before the authority of the Lord, an acknowledgment that His authority is higher than any secular authority on earth. Now go.
The stunned Lieutenant d'Aunay bowed to Aramis and left the cabin.

After this, Aramis had a conversation with Sub-Lieutenant de Trabu;on.
“Monsieur de Trabu;on, I would like to ask you a few questions,” said Aramis, carefully examining the newly arrived guard.
"You seem to be some kind of big shot here, I see," the junior lieutenant replied rudely. "You talk to me as if I'm obligated to answer you."
"That is so," agreed Aramis. "To shorten our conversation, I will now outline his plan to you in general terms."
“Very curious!” agreed de Trabu;on.
"First, I would like to know your views on certain theological questions," said Aramis, making a secret sign, and noticing that it made no impression on his interlocutor, he continued. "On this basis, we are unlikely to find an interesting topic for conversation."
“I suppose so,” agreed the junior lieutenant.
“After that, I will ask you to give me the envelope that Monsieur Colbert handed you, and you will refuse to do so,” continued Aramis.
“I don’t know about any envelope,” de Trabu;on answered warily.
“You know about it, you lie to me, but I don’t care,” Aramis waved it off. “Next, I’ll threaten you that I’ll throw you overboard, but you won’t believe my words.”
“You don’t have enough power for this and you don’t have the courage to commit such a crime,” de Trabu;on said uncertainly.
"I have power enough and I have resolution enough for it, but I will not do it only because it is unwise," replied Aramis. "You are neither my friend nor my enemy, you are not dangerous to me, since I know your intentions and your possibilities, and I am dangerous to you, since you do not know my possibilities, and they, believe me, are great, and you do not know my intentions, and they, in relation to you, depend to the greatest extent on your obedience.
“But I have no intention of being obedient to you,” de Trabu;on objected.
“That is precisely the question we will now dwell on in the most detail,” Aramis answered almost kindly. “So, you declare that you will not obey my orders. I am convinced that your intention is as hard as flint, there is no way to influence you. What then can I do with you? Simply killing you is completely useless. It is better to make an edifying example out of you for those who will be more compliant. Knowing how I will treat you, they, I believe, will much more easily make their decision to cooperate with me. That is what I wanted to talk to you about. So, you will be an interesting example of how I deal with intractable people. This is an example I intend to use in my future work when recruiting supporters for my mission.”
“And what will you do with me?” de Trabu;on asked, distrustfully and with some apprehension.
"Oh, don't worry about that!" cried Aramis. "I don't intend to kill you, and I don't even want to separate you from your family."
- With my family? What are you talking about? - exclaimed the junior lieutenant.
- Well, you probably have a wife, maybe even an adult daughter or two.
“I have a son,” de Trabu;on replied.
“It doesn’t matter,” Aramis replied. “You’ll all go to Turkey.”
- To Turkey? For what? - the junior lieutenant was surprised.
- Personally, I will place you as a eunuch in the harem of a pasha I know, - answered Aramis. - I will place your son or sons, if there are several, in similar positions in other harems. Do not worry, I have the means to find out exactly how many children you have and what sex they are. I will place your wife and daughters in the pasha's harem.
"By what right?" exclaimed de Trabu;on, jumping up from his chair.
— By right of the strong! Sit down, Trabu;on, sit down! — said Aramis sternly. — Do you know what the right of the strong is? It is a right which has long, too long, been used in France by certain persons who thought nothing of the fate of the country as a whole, nor of the fate of the individual citizens of whom that country is composed! Cardinal Richelieu executed anyone who threatened not only his power, but even his reputation! Cardinal Mazarin robbed anyone whose money, in his opinion, should have belonged to him, the Cardinal, and not to the one who possessed it. The Chevalier de Luynes, the Marshal d'Ancre, the Duchess de Chevreuse, and many other favorites twisted Kings and Queens to their whims, and the latter used the whole people only to satisfy their greed, envy, vindictiveness, lust, voluptuousness, and other unbridled passions. They did all this by right of the strong, forgetting that there is a power higher than the one they use. And this power is very patient, but its patience is not limitless! The current King, by right of the strong, takes away from the young man the only thing he had - his pure youthful love, trampling his feelings, his honor, his life into the dirt. It is not enough for him, like all his lustful ancestors, to take away the wives of husbands who have cooled to the charms of their faithful, and to reward them for the ambiguous role of a cuckold with castles, court titles and military awards; it is not enough for him to be able to imitate those of his ancestors who, having sired illegitimate children with unmarried girls, officially legitimized them, or granted them the titles of dukes, arranged for their mistresses to marry noble blockheads who, for the royal favor, were glad to become honorary cuckolds and go to their ancestral estates, remaining there and not showing their noses from there, while the royal persons were having fun with their wives and breeding bastards. Such amusements no longer seem interesting to our dear King. He prefers to take away from an honest, pure, noble young man, who is dearer to me than my own son, his only love simply in order to have fun with her for a while, perhaps have a few children by her, and then send her out of sight to some monastery to atone for his and her sins with God. All this is given by the right of the strong. Well, Monsieur de Trabu;on, I declare to you that I am stronger than your insignificant King Louis XIV, I could have thrown him from his throne as one throws a chess king from the board, I could, if I wanted, have destroyed him, but I was also strong enough that when the matter was almost done, or finally done, I allowed all my work to be destroyed, allowed power to return to this insignificant man only because he was defended by someone whom I respected enough to agree that his point of view on this problem might have a right to be considered. I, who could move the King like a pawn, decided to leave him in place only because it was enough for me to be convinced that I could do it, after which I allowed myself to prove that I could not be tempted by the pursuit of illusory wealth or power, and that I was ready to listen to the will of the Lord, I was ready to go the way that the Lord showed me, and if he gave me a sign that my path was wrong, I would not insist on my mistakes, but would agree with his will, with his choice, and go into the shadows, allowing events to take their course and develop as he decided.
“You are talking about something too terrible, but beyond my understanding,” said de Trabu;on, pale as a sheet.
"I said to myself: 'If your plans have not come true, rejoice, for the Lord's plans have come true.' And I withdrew from affairs. Instead of fighting, I retreated," Aramis said more to himself than to his interlocutor.
"You do not look like a resigned man," replied the stunned de Trabu;on. "You give the impression of a lion who is preparing to spring, and whose leap will be fatal to his intended victim."
"Yes, by Jove!" cried Aramis, snatching up from the table a porcelain figurine of the Magi bringing gifts to the infant Jesus. "I yielded to the will of God, but God has taken from me my friend, whom I loved more than I knew. And I will never forgive God or the King!"
With these words, he furiously threw the statuette onto the floor with such force that the smallest fragments flew in all directions.
“The King who has deprived me of a friend will never be forgiven by me,” said Aramis. “I would forgive him my death if he had seized me and ordered me to be executed, I would have blessed him as I died. But I will not forgive him the death of my dear friend, my brother, my beloved Porthos. He will pay me for it. And if you, Monsieur de Trabu;on, stand in my way, I will destroy you. Not physically. I will destroy you morally. I will turn you into dust, into ashes. You will not be a man, you will be a eunuch. You will serve figs, peaches and grapes to the pasha, who will enjoy the charms of your wife before your eyes. How do you like that prospect?”
“You won’t do it,” whispered de Trabu;on, breaking out in a cold sweat.
“For what reason?” Aramis asked coldly.
“I agree to serve you, just don’t do this,” said the junior lieutenant. “My God! I believe you are capable of this! Your eyes, your look prove it. Tell me that you won’t touch my family!”
"Complete obedience on your part, Monsieur de Trabu;on, to me and me alone, that is what will protect you from such a fate, even if someone else were to wish to do the same to you," said Aramis, looking straight into the eyes of his victim. "Or else...
“I understand! I agree!” de Trabu;on quickly replied.

XLV. The Spies of the Bishop of Vannes

The next morning, Aramis summoned all three of Colbert's former spies and Captain d'Argenson.
- Captain, after you drop me off at the port of San Sebastian, you can return to the task previously assigned to you. Explain your prolonged absence by the fact that these people presented you with orders from the King, forcing you to chase state criminals. Here are these orders.
With these words, Aramis carelessly threw two envelopes on the table.
“The same order was given to de Trabu;on, but it was accidentally torn out of his hands by a gust of wind and carried out to sea,” Aramis said carelessly, after which de Trabu;on blushed.
“And you, Messrs. d’Aunay and du Chant;, may take your papers after the captain has read them,” he continued. “You, Messrs. d’Aunay, de Trabu;on and du Chant;, must report to Colbert all the information you have collected, without alteration, with the small clarifications I am giving you. First, Baron du Valon is buried under a huge stone in the cave of Locmaria on the island of Belle-Ile. This is the absolute truth, you will be able to verify this by visiting this place, I am telling you this only so that you will not waste time looking for him, however, it is your business. Next. Secondly, the Bishop of Vannes, Monsieur d’Herblay, has sailed in a barge in the direction of England. The ship you are now on met a fishing boat, you questioned the fishermen, who told you that they had caught this boat in the sea, in which the Bishop of Vannes was found dead. The cause of death was a fatal wound to the chest. The description of his appearance is such that he is very similar in face and figure to me, so that in describing him, you can tell him my features. Agree among yourselves how many fishermen there were, what they looked like, how old they were, what was the displacement of the fishing boat, what was its name and appearance, where and at what time you met these fishermen. Captain d'Argenson will confirm your testimony if necessary. However, do not insist too much on the resemblance of this man to me, since you did not see him, but only trusted the words of the fishermen. It will be better for you so that you will not have trouble in the event that I appear. So, after meeting the fishermen, having ascertained that the two persons you had been ordered to arrest were dead, you returned to Nantes. Do you understand this part of the assignment?
“Yes, monseigneur,” replied du Chantet.
“We understand,” replied d’Aunay and de Trabu;on.
The captain bowed his head low in agreement.
"Leave us, captain," said Aramis. "I beg you to look in on me when these gentlemen have left me."
The captain nodded again and walked out the door.
“That is only half the matter,” continued Aramis to his three new spies. “First, I will test you. Now, Colbert will give you new assignments. It is quite possible that each of you will receive an individual assignment, and that is why I need each of you. You will carefully note the instructions and orders you receive, communicate them to me immediately, and henceforth you will regularly inform me of all of Colbert’s orders. Until you receive from me confirmation or prohibition of the execution of the assignments you have received, you will do everything in your power to create the appearance of obedience and the fulfillment of these orders, but God forbid that you carry out even one of these assignments before you have received my approval for this action. It is quite possible that I will demand complete disobedience from you, but in other cases I will demand careful opposition to the execution of the orders you have received, not only by you, but by others. I may order you to protect the one you are assigned to kill, or to kill the one you are assigned to protect. Complete obedience to my instructions and the complete appearance of obedience to Colbert's instructions. Fear no one but me, for from now on my power over you is greater than that of a king, and information about your actions will be provided by people of whom you have no idea. You will keep in touch with me by means of carrier pigeons, which you will find at one of the following addresses. On these cards are written the addresses and names of those with whom you will have to deal. Read and remember, for I will burn these cards as soon as our conversation is over.
He placed three cards with names and addresses in front of his new agents and turned over the hourglass. As soon as the last grain of sand fell to the bottom of the lower flask, Aramis said:
- I gave you five minutes to learn the addresses. Have you remembered everything?
“Let me take another look,” asked du Chante.
“Okay, but from now on, develop your memory,” Aramis replied condescendingly and turned the watch over again.
When the clock had again measured five minutes, Aramis took the cards and burned them over a lighted candle, and threw the ashes out the window leading to the sea.
"Time is up. Instructions have been given. Go," said Aramis.
After the three spies had left, the captain again entered the cabin, which he had placed at the disposal of Aramis.
“I beg you, captain, invite only du Chante to me, but only in such a way that the others do not know about it.
He said to du Chante, who had entered:
- Du Shante, you are a brother in faith and a member of our union. I trust you implicitly. Keep an eye on the others.
“I understand that, Your Eminence,” replied du Chante, and kissed the hand of the Bishop of Vannes.
“May the Lord bless you for this good deed,” Aramis answered kindly and crossed himself over the bowed du Chante.
After this, Aramis invited the captain again.
"Captain d'Argenson, thank you for your service," he said softly. "I will leave you at the port of San Sebastian, and when I need you, I will find a way to contact you. You have done your duty, in confirmation of your new powers of the third degree of initiation, remember the following sign and remember the following password.
After this, Aramis showed the captain a mysterious sign with the fingers of his hand and whispered some words in his ear. The captain bowed, kissed the stone on Aramis' ring and his hand, after which the prelate laid his hand on the captain's head and said:
“I bless you, my son, go with God,” after which he crossed his forehead in the air.

XLVI. The road to Kandy

Meanwhile, Athos and Rochefort had long sought an opportunity to follow the Duke of Beaufort, and only after a very lengthy search were their efforts finally crowned with success. They managed to hire a small and relatively fast ship, on which they set off for the island of Crete to the fortress of Candia, where Duke Fran;ois de Beaufort was heading with his squadron to support the Venetian Republic in its fight against the Ottoman Empire. Among the Duke's officers, as our readers will probably remember, were Raoul de Bragelonne and Armand de Gramont, Count de Guiche, son of Marshal de Gramont and brother of the Princess of Monaco. The expedition undertaken by the Duke was intended to protect the fortress of Candia from the Turks, in order to prevent the loss of the island of Crete, which would have given the Turks the key to the entire eastern part of the Mediterranean.
The second son of C;sar de Bourbon, Duke of Vend;me (illegitimate son of King Henry IV and Gabrielle d'Estr;es) and Fran;oise of Lorraine, the Duke of Beaufort was distinguished by his extraordinary bravery and bellicosity, surprisingly combined with a rather eccentric character. As a result of a conspiracy against Cardinal Mazarin, he found himself imprisoned in the Ch;teau de Vincennes, from where he managed to escape with the help of the Comte de Rochefort, the Comte de La F;re and Grimaud. The Duke's participation in the Fronde movement was more nominal than active. Having received the half-joking nickname of "King of the Markets" from the Parisian mob, he performed the functions of that nominal leader whose existence gave the Fronde the appearance of a meaningful resistance to power and the illusion of an alternative to royal absolutism. Of course, the Duke himself did not think of overthrowing the legitimate King and taking his place, but he enjoyed the idea of pleasing Cardinal Mazarin, who had sent him to the Ch;teau de Vincennes. Little by little, and not without the help of the captain of the king's musketeers, d'Artagnan, the Fronde itself fell apart, like a huge sea wave breaking on the shore, deadly dangerous for ships in the open ocean, but completely harmless after it reaches the rocky shore, having lost almost all its strength as it moved.
After the end of the unrest of the Fronde, Mazarin again reigned in Paris, in his palace, where old age and gout finally finished him off. Having bequeathed part of his wealth to the King and leaving an equally significant part of the money he had stolen from France to his nieces, the Cardinal finally left this mortal world, or, as some desperate minds joked, "received a final promotion along the spiritual hierarchy", to the great joy of many of his enemies and to the slight regret of a few of his friends. Queen Anne wiped a few tears from the corners of her eyes and calmed down rather quickly, having learned of the amount of the inheritance that her son Louis XIV had finally received under his hand. The King quite easily reconciled with the Duke de Beaufort and even appointed him to several responsible military posts. A number of successful military expeditions secured for him the position of Grand Master, Chief and Chief Superintendent of Navigation. The Duke and his fleet had repeatedly proven to the Turks that France had no intention of giving up its positions in the Mediterranean, something the beaten Turkish captains had learned the hard way. The expedition undertaken this time was intended to strengthen the alliance with the Venetian Republic and further weaken the influence of the Turks, but the forces were unequal and the expedition promised to be difficult.
If Beaufort had succeeded in winning this expedition, his fame and influence on the fate and politics of France could indeed have increased enormously, but only a man as far removed from the art of war as Colbert could have believed that this expedition could easily end in success, and in the event of the Duke's unexpected death, the chances of success for the expedition became vanishingly small. Therefore, if Colbert really had planned to kill de Beaufort, it would not have been his smartest plan.
So, the Count de La F;re and the Count of Rochefort were in a hurry not only to prevent treason and save the Duke de Beaufort from death, but they were also in fact in a hurry to protect the interests of France and the Venetian Republic in the eastern part of the Mediterranean Sea.
“I should have gone to this siege with Raoul from the very beginning,” said Athos to Rochefort, standing on the deck of the ship and gazing into the distance on the horizon.
"You should not be constantly guarding the young Viscount, and of course you were quite right not to do so, otherwise he would never have become the valiant warrior that I have heard he already is," Rochefort objected. "The desire not to let children go is destructive to their characters."
“It was precisely this consideration that held me back,” sighed Athos. “But, as you know, there are spies in the expedition who have received orders to commit the most terrible crime that can be committed in an army engaged in military operations. To treacherously behead a military expedition means to doom it to defeat. And to attempt on the life of a duke in whose veins flows the blood of King Henry IV – only a hopeless man could dare to commit such a heinous crime. By the way, how did you learn of this order? Note, Count, that I did not doubt your words and immediately rushed to the rescue of the duke, and if the source of your information is not subject to disclosure, I withdraw my question.”
“You have not embarrassed me in the least by asking this question,” replied Rochefort. “As you know, I took part in the actions of a certain opposition force called the Fronde. Although these forces have retreated, I still have some connections. Among the Parisian bourgeoisie there is an extremely clever fellow who runs something between an inn, a hotel and a fruit shop. He has preserved a network of well-wishers who, if by chance they manage to learn some important information through servants or lackeys, deliver this information to the said shopkeeper, who acts as an underground commander-in-chief of these remnants of the opposition. He communicates the information he has received to me only when he is sure that, firstly, it is important for me and the common cause, and secondly, he understands that without my help they cannot solve the problem that has arisen. This is already the second message from this source, and the first was completely accurate and extremely timely.
“Your explanation, Count, is more than sufficient, and I beg you not to mention the name of this amazing man, who is the reliable source of your information,” Athos hastily replied, not wishing to know someone else’s secret to such a degree of detail that Rochefort was already ready to share with him.
If Athos had not interrupted Rochefort, he would have learned that the mysterious source of information was none other than Planchet, whom he knew from his youth, when the current shopkeeper and grey eminence of the remnants of the Fronde was a simple servant of the young and then unknown d'Artagnan, who was just beginning his military career.
"By the way, Count," said Rochefort, "how can we help the Duke of Beaufort on this frail vessel? I, of course, like you, rushed to the rescue without thinking about the means of achieving the goal set before us, but now we have time to think, and it seems to me that we could draw up some plan of action.
“ As for plans, Count, you are in the wrong place,” Athos replied with a smile, and shook his head, causing his grey curls to fall over his shoulders like a thousand streams flowing down a mountain. “My friend Aramis loves to make far-reaching and extremely intricate plans. As for unexpected, dizzying and decisive plans, d’Artagnan was our best. As for me, I always acted only under the influence of a sense of duty and honour, without thinking too much about the consequences, except, of course, when we all acted according to a single plan, born in the head of one of us, and accepted by all without objection. What happy times those were, Count!”
- I remember this, when no one was able to stop the onslaught of your glorious four! - Rochefort smiled. - Although this did not please me at all, because by chance I was on the other side, so your successes were at the same time our defeats.
“Is it worth while to recall such trifles now?” Athos responded, under the influence of romantic memories. “The King and the Cardinal, whom we served as best we could, have already departed to a better world, where, I believe, they have settled all their differences and are reconciled before the face of God. But royal blood must not be insulted by a vile murder. Let us act as our conscience tells us. We will either save the Duke, or die saving him. Both of these outcomes seem preferable to me compared to passively awaiting the denouement of this terrible drama.”
- Count, I admire you and your words, and I can’t object to anything! - answered Rochefort. - What do you think, Count, if you and I die, which of us will go to heaven and which to hell?
“It depends on who will decide this question,” Athos answered without hesitation, as if he had already decided this philosophical and theological question for himself long ago. “I am convinced that God will forgive any sin to any person, since He considers everyone to be the lamb of God. But Satan will not forgive anyone even the most insignificant sin. So if Satan makes decisions, then one accidentally crushed ant is enough to boil in boiling tar for eternity, but if God makes decisions, any sin in His eyes can be atoned for by repentance.”
"Why do you think Satan should be allowed to make decisions?" Rochefort asked.
"If that is not so, then Hell is deserted, there is no one there except the devils themselves," Athos answered. "In that case, the Lord would have liquidated it long ago as unnecessary. If it exists, then its leader recruits clients for it."
“In that case, we all have an equal chance of getting into both Heaven and Hell!” Rochefort exclaimed in surprise.
"It is very comforting when memory brings you back to the sins and mistakes of youth," said Athos. "Before God we are all equal. Before Satan, too. Have you ever seen fishermen's nets full of sprats?"
“I saw something like that once or twice,” answered Rochefort.
- What do you think, Count, the fishermen who got this catch, do they attach much importance to the morality of the previous life of each individual fish? Or do they all look the same to them?
“Do you think that we and our souls, all our lives and destinies, are the same to the Lord?” asked Rochefort.
- If this is not so, then the Lord has voluntarily taken upon himself too much work - to listen to each soul and to judge it fairly, - answered Athos. - However, I am not strong in theology and theosophy. This is the lot of Aramis. Somehow we have become carried away by mysticism, dear Count! Do you think this is a premonition of our doom?
- Who knows? Perhaps one of us, or both of us, will be awaited by the bony one in this campaign, - answered Rochefort. - But I agree with you, Count, that it is better to die saving the grandson of Henry IV than to live with the thought that we have missed the chance to save him and to live with this unbearable thought the miserable remains of the years, or perhaps months, that are still allotted to us. We have lived our time, and to put a heroic point at the end is not so bad. It is, really, better than slowly dying from gout, indigestion and constant backache.
Athos nodded silently and Rochefort saw a smile of peace on his face. He correctly guessed its reason: Athos had been living through the meeting with his son in advance, was happy about the upcoming meeting, which is why he even straightened up and looked younger.

Meanwhile, serious events were unfolding in the fortress of Candia. Under the terms of the Treaty of the Pyrenees, France had pledged to assist the Venetian Republic in its confrontation with the Ottoman Empire. At first, success accompanied the Venetians, and they won many victories in individual battles, but after the Ottoman fleet completely defeated the Venetian fleet, and to top off the misfortunes of the commander of the Venetian fleet, Lazaro Mocenigo was killed by a ship's mast falling from a cannonball, and fortune had completely shifted to the Ottoman Empire's side. The fortress of Candia on the island of Crete remained the last outpost of the Venetian presence in the eastern part of the Mediterranean. For this reason, the Turks spared neither strength, nor lives, nor gunpowder, nor bullets during the siege of this fortress. Using information from deserters, they learned about the most vulnerable places of the fortress and waged the most brutal battles in these areas. When the fighting died down for a while, the siege of the fortress continued, which complicated the already unenviable fate of the besieged.
The forces of the Duke of Beaufort, arriving from the sea, joined the besieged.

XLVII. Conference

A military council was taking place in a room in one of the inner towers of the fortress. Captain General Francesco Morosini was leaning over a map of the fortress, on which the locations of the Turkish troops were marked. Commandant Grimaldi, tapping his whip on his boot, was nervously pacing by the window, looking anxiously in the direction of the Turkish batteries. The Duke of Beaufort was sitting by the fireplace, listening to the distant cannonade.
"What are our forces at present, Commandant?" asked Morosini, turning to Grimaldi.
"Eight and a half thousand men," answered Grimaldi, "but if we do not count the wounded, then eight hundred men less. Add to this the acute shortage of gunpowder, cannonballs and bullets, as well as the danger of soon being left without provisions, and you will get a relatively complete picture.
"Does this mean we've lost?" Morosini asked discontentedly.
“This means that we must take into account all factors in order to use our forces as effectively as possible to reduce the likelihood of defeat,” Grimaldi replied. “But overall, we are losing. But this is no reason to give up. There is a big difference between ‘losing’ and ‘lost’. We still have the right and the opportunity to die with honor. And there remains a chance to win, which sometimes arises even in the most desperate situation.”
“The Turks have captured Mount San Lucia and installed their battery on it,” Morosini stated discontentedly. “They are firing at us from there, and we can’t respond to them in any way!”
“It must be assumed that, under the cover of these batteries, their sappers may begin to dig tunnels,” added Grimaldi.
"We must not allow this to happen!" cried Morosini. "We must blow up their tunnels before they can bring them to the fortress walls, plant explosives and blow up the walls of our fortress."
"The sappers dig their mines quietly," said the Duke, playing with his naval dagger. "We need to dig the mines on our side, even lower, put gunpowder there and collapse their mines."
"We cannot dig under the fortress walls," Grimaldi objected. "The ground beneath them is rocky, and such tunnels, even if possible, would be extremely dangerous, since they would reduce the inaccessibility of our fortress walls."
“So they are impregnable!” the Duke calmed down. “What are we worried about then?”
"I did not express myself quite precisely," replied Grimaldi. "I merely meant that it would be unwise to weaken the strength of these walls."
"We will make a night escapade!" cried the Duke of Beaufort.
"Do you mean 'sortie'?" asked Morosini, who could not get used to the Duke's habit of confusing certain similar-sounding words, which sometimes caused awkwardness, and sometimes distorted the meaning so much that it was not always possible to correctly understand what exactly the Duke of Beaufort wanted to say.
“Did I say anything else?” Beaufort was surprised.
"What would be the purpose of such a sortie?" asked Morosini.
“We will take prisoners, learn from them where the tunnels are, and collapse them or blow them up,” Beaufort said with such a dispassionate expression as if he were announcing his intention to stroll through the park and enjoy the scent of night violets.
“We have already made several sorties, and for this reason we have eight hundred wounded and as many more have died in similar sorties,” Grimaldi added his comment.
" The sorties you speak of were apparently carried out without proper command," Beaufort replied. "Under my direct command the sortie would be more fruitful."
“I am prepared to admit that under your command the sortie will be more successful,” Morosini replied, emphasizing the words “command” and “successful,” as if to emphasize that these words should be used rather than the terms “command” and “fruitful,” “however, we cannot risk you, Your Highness.”
“You don’t have to do that,” the Duke of Beaufort waved his hand, “I can risk His Highness myself, your consent is not required here. In case I am killed in this sortie, my place will be taken by the Count de Guiche or the Viscount de Bragelonne. These officers have fully demonstrated their courage and military savvy.”
"Why not let them lead the expedition if they can take your place in everything?" Morosini asked.
"For the simple reason that when the Commander-in-Chief is present in the French Army, he has no need to delegate his duties to his deputies," replied Beaufort. "If he is absent due to death, these duties will be delegated to them of their own accord."
“By ourselves,” Morosini quietly corrected.
“That’s what I said,” replied the Duke.
"When do you propose to make this sortie?" asked Grimaldi.
“At least this very night,” the Duke answered simply.
- In no case! - exclaimed Morosini. - If you do not allow us to keep you, Your Highness, from personal participation in this dangerous undertaking, allow us at least to select the best soldiers and officers for this and carefully think over and prepare this undertaking!
"Nonsense!" cried the Duke. "All the soldiers and officers under my command are good enough for war, and by calling this undertaking dangerous you forget that there are no safe undertakings in war. There is nothing to think about, we must simply break into the enemy's trenches, take prisoners, and cut down all those who offer resistance."
"Your Grace," Grimaldi said softly, "for what reason do you prefer a night sortie to a daytime sortie?"
“Because of the darkness, which gives us the advantage of stealth,” replied the Duke.
“In that case, the full moon that will illuminate the site of this sortie tonight will not allow us to achieve the required secrecy, since the required darkness will not exist,” Grimaldi clarified.
“Are you suggesting that we wait two weeks until the moon turns into a thin crescent?” the Duke was surprised.
“Let’s wait, at least, for a cloudy night that will at least half hide the moon behind the clouds,” Grimaldi replied.
“Okay,” agreed Beaufort. “We’ll make a sortie on the next cloudy night.”

XLVIII. It's too late!

One dark night, when clouds hid the moon, Athos and Rochefort landed on the island of Crete in their small vessel, unnoticed by Turkish intelligence. Having made their way to the walls of the fortress, they looked for a way to get inside without being shot by the defenders. To do this, they had to let the besieged know that the nobles who had arrived were French, not Turks.
Suddenly they heard shots.
"They are making a sortie!" cried Athos. "Let us hasten, join the brave men, and help them with our swords and muskets!"
Running up to the battlefield, Athos and Rochefort discovered that the advantage was on the side of the brave French, both due to the surprise of the sortie and the decisiveness of their actions. The forces of soldiers defending the trenches in this area were smaller, so the sortie could well be called successful. By their clothing, appearance and cries in French, the participants in the sortie recognized their compatriots and gratefully accepted their help.
The raiders carried out three daring actions. First, they drove the Turks out of the trenches near the fortress at the point of attack and forced them to retreat. Second, they blew up several barrels of gunpowder standing near the cannons, so that all these cannons were temporarily left without powder, and two or three of them, in addition, fell on their sides or fell into the trench, and the damage to them, in all likelihood, was fatal, excluding their further use. Third, the defenders of the fortress captured two prisoners.
Inspired by the success of the tasks they had accomplished, the heroes of the sortie returned to the fortress, after which the fortress gates were hastily closed behind them.
Grimaldi, who had come down to the gate to meet the heroes, ordered the prisoners to be handed over to headquarters for interrogation. He embraced the participants of the sortie and congratulated them on their success, and was also very surprised by the appearance of two noblemen who, according to the participants of the sortie, had arrived at the right time and helped to complete the assigned tasks.
Suddenly a murmur ran through the ranks of the raiders. The officers shouted the name of the Duke de Beaufort more and more often, and their cries sounded more and more like grief.
"What's going on?" asked Rochefort. "Why is everyone calling the Duke's name?"
"He has disappeared," said the Count de Guiche, who had only lost two fingers from a bullet in his hand during this sortie. "The Duke de Beaufort led the detachment, but he has not returned."
- My God! - cried Rochefort. - We are too late! Count de la Fere! We are too late.
- Count de la F;re?! - Count de Guiche asked again and brought the lantern to Athos's face. - Count, it's you! What fate!
“Yes, it is I,” nodded Athos. “Are you talking about the fate of the Duke of Beaufort?”
“And not only that,” de Guiche answered with deep sadness. “Raoul de Bragelonne is your son, isn’t he?”
"What's wrong with him?" asked Athos, turning cold.
" Take courage, Count," replied de Guiche. "I saw with my own eyes a shot from the Turkish side, after which Raoul fell into one of the trenches. After that, an explosion was heard somewhere nearby. We never saw him again."
“If Raoul did not return from his sortie, it follows that he was either killed or so badly wounded that he did not have the strength to return,” said Athos almost dispassionately, but his friends who knew him better would have recognized the deepest sorrow in his voice.
“In the morning we will make another sortie and look for him among the wounded or killed,” said de Guiche with the greatest sorrow.
"I will not wait until morning," replied Athos. "Give me a lantern, I am going at once."
With these words he snatched the portable lantern from de Guiche's hands, covered it with his hat and walked towards the fortress gates.
“They won’t let you out, Count!” exclaimed de Guiche.
“Let them just try,” replied Athos in such a tone that de Guiche realized that nothing could detain this man.

Since Athos had seen with his own eyes the place where the battle had taken place, he, covering a portable kerosene lantern with his hat and cloak, crept in almost complete darkness to the place where, presumably, the events described by de Guiche had taken place.
Athos soon saw a cannon torn to pieces by an explosion, half-collapsed into a trench. He jumped down and saw that the fallen cannon had crushed a man. With a trembling heart, Athos opened the cloak thrown over the lantern and illuminated the body of the dead man. His head and shoulders were crushed by a heavy cannon. A sword lay next to the dead man. Athos bent down and picked it up. It was the same sword with the heraldic monogram on the guard that the Comte de la F;re had given to Raoul before he left for the army of the Duke of Beaufort. It was Raoul's sword.
Athos threw the lantern away and walked back to the fortress in complete darkness. His eyes saw nothing, and even if the clouds had disappeared at that moment and the full moon had illuminated the battlefield, he still would not have been able to discern the surrounding objects, since his eyes were covered with a salty haze, a heavy lump lodged in his throat, and his legs refused to move.
Raoul, his Raoul was killed! His youthful body was mutilated by the instrument of death that had fallen on him, and only the pride of the count's family - the sword decorated with diamonds and emeralds, the sword that Athos himself, being a simple musketeer, had crossed with his enemies more than once - this sword remained untouched. But it did not fall into the hands of the enemy. "Everything is lost except honor!" So wrote King Francis I of France in a letter to his mother, and Athos could say the same thing now, if the words came to his mind.
Life was over. Without Raoul it was meaningless, and therefore over. It was only necessary to end it with honor. Athos could not leave the besieged in the fortress, and he could not indulge in his own grief when the besieged did not know whether they would survive the next day.
If there had not been a war situation around, if the fate of the fortress did not now depend on every sword and every steady hand capable of holding a musket, Athos would have given himself up to his grief, and nothing would have been able to distract him from the thought that his life was over. But the Count was a man of honor. If the cause for which Raoul and the Duke de Beaufort had died was not yet finished, then he, Athos, the Count de La F;re, would have to finish it, or share the fate of the fallen heroes. The Count would have preferred to be killed immediately, but honor demanded of him that he fight to the end, using all his strength to win, or at least to make the chances of victory a little higher. Honor forbade him to put a bullet in the forehead, to throw himself on a sword, or to expose his chest to a stray enemy bullet. Honor forced him to fight according to all the rules of the art of war, defending the cause that had destroyed his dear son. This would be the best funeral for Raoul.
There was no way to retrieve Raoul's body, because it was crushed by the cannon. Excavations were required, it was necessary to unite the forces of many people in order to lift and move the cannon, but in the military situation the French simply could not afford such actions, because in this case too many soldiers would die doing it, and even in this case the success would not be guaranteed, rather one could talk about the guarantee of failure of such a sortie. If you leave a besieged fortress, then only in order to fight the enemy. Every participant in the sortie knows this.

IL. Pigeon Mail

In one of the castles of Madrid, Aramis slowly climbed the spiral staircase to the very dome of one of the chapels.
Under the conical roof were cages with pigeons. A blue dove was impatiently walking along the roof of one of the cages, cooing incessantly. Aramis approached the pigeon, one of whose legs was wrapped in a very thin strip of paper, secured with a silk thread wrapped around it. Aramis cut the thread with a knife and removed the strip of paper, after which he placed the pigeon in the cage and went down the same spiral staircase that had led him to this mysterious dovecote.
Returning to the luxuriously furnished office, Aramis straightened out the strip of paper, took a large magnifying glass from the table and read the text written in the mysterious message, which read:

"Order 1 executed. Du Sh."

Aramis leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes for a few seconds, after which he burned the note on the candle burning in a massive silver candlestick.

Then he took the same small piece of paper and wrote in his tiny calligraphic handwriting

"Follow Order 2. You are responsible for the accuracy of execution."

Having written this letter, Aramis rang the bell. Bazin entered the office with silent steps.
"How many pigeons did you get from Poidorakis?" he asked.
“Three,” answered Bazin.
Aramis pointed to the note to Bazin and ordered:
- Send it when it gets dark.
Bazin carefully took the note, bowed and left the office.
The prelate looked at his thin hands with their transparent parchment skin, examining the rings on his fingers with their manicured nails. Once these hands caressed the first beauties of France, now they are kissed by men who acknowledge his power over them.
“How fleeting life is!” he thought. “First we have youth and spend it on getting the attention of beauties, acquiring at least some money and power, risking our lives for it! A little time passes, we get money, power and beauties, as much as we want, but youth leaves us, taking the last remnants of life! Why strive for power and wealth now, if those who were once dear have either died, or have changed beyond recognition, or have simply distanced themselves from us so much that they no longer disturb our souls?”
My heart was again pierced by the thought of Porthos.
"I am guilty!" he accused himself again and again. "I should not have treated my friend as if he were a mere instrument for the execution of my will! I should have told him my plans. Perhaps he would not have understood me. Perhaps he would not have supported me! But I should have spoken to him, to Athos, and to d'Artagnan, before undertaking such a thing!"
And then a pain even greater than the sorrow for Porthos's death pierced Aramis's heart. At first he did not understand its cause. Then he closed his eyes and tried to look into his soul. He was tormented by the strongest anxiety, shame and remorse.
"They would not support me, all three of them!" thought Aramis with horror. He had resigned himself to the fact that his idea would not be supported by Porthos, since the giant had never claimed the role of moral leader, as Athos had always been, nor the role of generator of ideas, as d'Artagnan had been. By condescendingly allowing all his friends to shamelessly dispose of his physical strength, his sword, his courage, and even his money, Porthos had voluntarily pushed himself into the background. He had become a backdrop for his three friends, who shone against this background with their cunning, intelligence, and morality! But was Porthos really as naive as he wanted to appear? Why was the role of moral leader unconditionally given to Athos, when it was he, Aramis, a man dedicated to the service of God, who should, it would seem, have carried within himself the strongest foundations of moral purity? Why did Athos, who had killed his wife without a trial, suddenly become a model of morality? And why did they all repeat his crime, which, as it turned out, had not completely destroyed Milady, without the slightest hesitation, choosing this time to cut off the head of a woman who, in any case, deserved a trial before being executed? Why was d'Artagnan considered the most cunning among them, who was younger and more inexperienced than the rest of his friends? Was he really more cunning than the man who had managed to lead the Order of the Jesuits? Why was Porthos considered the best fighter, while Athos tirelessly trained himself in musketry and fencing, while Porthos only trained his strength and agility, without connecting these exercises too much with the art of war, although, undoubtedly, he was one of the best fencers and musket shooters, but still inferior in this art to Athos and d'Artagnan?
“We did not understand each other at all, we treated each other as schemes, whereas in each of us there is a whole universe of different properties of the soul, the most contradictory character traits in unthinkable combinations, the most amazing thoughts and hopes!” thought Aramis in despair. “I left France to save my life and seek ways to increase my power! But at the same time I left my best friends, whom not every man has the good fortune to acquire! Spain without my friends is as empty to me as a desert, lifeless and uninteresting. A thousand dangers near my friends are nothing compared to the spiritual emptiness that arises here in Madrid, where no one and nothing threatens me, and where I can only receive information and send instructions to my numerous agents! Is this life? And women? Did they love me? Did I love the women with whom I was intimate? Did I have with at least one of them that mutual love which alone can give happiness? I have never been faithful to any of them, not one of them has been faithful to me! Is that love? And children? I have children! But I don’t even know exactly how many there are! And I can never be sure that any of them is truly my child! And the fact that the husbands of these children, who sincerely consider these children to be their own, cannot be sure of this either, does not convince me in the least that my confidence has more grounds than theirs!”
“Your Eminence,” said Bazin, who had evidently returned with some important message and had been standing there for five minutes, silently, waiting for Aramis to glance at him.
"What, Bazin?" asked Aramis, startled. "What happened?"
“A letter from Blois by pigeon post,” Bazin answered respectfully, respectfully approaching and placing a small piece of paper in front of Aramis.
Aramis approached the light, read the note and suddenly straightened up decisively, as if he had even grown younger and taller.
- Bazin, my sword, my horses! We are going to Blois! - he exclaimed.
“Your Eminence, a trip to France is extremely dangerous for you in the current situation,” Bazin said timidly.
- So much the better, Bazin! You didn't think I was going to live forever, did you? - Aramis objected. - Half an hour to get ready, a full supply of powder and bullets, two muskets for each saddle, my sword, two hundred pistoles for the road for me and a hundred pistoles for you. Let's go. Forward, forward, get moving!
Bazin, accustomed to the measured way of life of a priest, sighed and went to carry out the orders of the master. Over the long years of service to Aramis, he had become accustomed to accepting the orders of the master unconditionally, like the weather or natural disasters.
Aramis looked again at the piece of paper on which was written:
"D'Artagnan travels between Blois and Pierrefonds, followed by three of Colbert's spies. J.-P. d'Aunay."

L. The last night in the fortress

When all the lights in the fortress were extinguished, Athos stood for a long time in the darkness and looked out the window towards the enemy, where the Turkish batteries were firing. He firmly decided to go on a sortie tomorrow and die, putting an end to this life, which from now on was only a burden to him. He was sorry to part with his friends, d'Artagnan, Porthos and Aramis, but the thought of Raoul's death squeezed his heart with such a cruel vice that even the joy of communicating with his comrades in arms could not dull this pain.
“Why drag out this miserable life of an old man when my son is no more and no one will return him to me?” he thought.
Now that the torch of his father's love had been extinguished by a treacherous fate, Athos felt like a barren, dry tree, taking up space in vain and blocking the light of young shoots. There was no longer any vital juice left in this tree, it had no desire to survive, and not a single green bud, not a single leaf could be expected on its dry and wrinkled trunk. Looking with disdain at the bottle of wine that the servant had brought him, he thought: “How far away are those times when I enjoyed good wine! With the appearance of Raoul in my life, I stopped drinking altogether. Why did I take care of my health? And to whom am I now going to set an example with my sobriety? The night is so long, this is the last night of my life. Why not shorten it with a few sips of this good old wine?”
After these thoughts, Athos resolutely filled the cup that stood there and drank its contents in one gulp. The taste of the wine seemed unusual to him, he felt a faint taste of muscat bitterness and some other unknown herbs.
"Is the wine poisoned?" he thought. "Were there spies in the Duke's camp? But what difference does it make? It's even better and easier this way! After all, I'm not a suicide or a coward, I'm just giving in to the current that Fate is carrying me with!" After this, Athos poured the rest of the wine from the bottle into the goblet and drank it down even more decisively than the first time.
His head began to spin, and the dark silhouettes of the room's furnishings began to float and sway.
"How simple and easy it all is!" thought the Count. "We will meet soon, Raoul! I am coming to you!"
With this thought, the count collapsed onto his bed and fell into a deep sleep.
He dreamed of a blooming garden in which he met Raoul. The young man was leading Mademoiselle de La Valli;re by the arm.
“Father, the Lord has united us!” exclaimed Raoul.
Mademoiselle curtsied and bowed her head to Athos.
"Mademoiselle, I forgive you the harm you have done to my son, since he has finally found peace," said Athos. "Go in peace."
With these words he hugged Raoul.
“What do you think you’re doing?!” Raoul exclaimed in the voice of Louis XIV.
Athos drew back and saw that he was embracing the King.
"Your Majesty, I did not mean to offend you," replied Athos. "I thought you were my son."
"He thought I might prefer his son to Your Majesty!" Mademoiselle de La Valli;re cried contemptuously. "My God, how blind are all these provincial fathers of respectable fools!"
"Take him away!" cried the King. "Hey, somebody! Throw this rebel into the Bastille."
The Duke de Beaufort and Fouquet approached Athos with soft steps from both sides, took him by the arms and gently led him somewhere to the side.
“Don’t worry, Count, prison is peace and relaxation!” Beaufort said softly.
“We will spend the rest of our days in captivity together wonderfully,” Fouquet continued.
- Come to us, we've been waiting for you! - exclaimed the commandant of the Bastille, de Bezmo, who had appeared out of nowhere. - Your cell is number three.
Fouquet and Beaufort led Athos through endless labyrinths, after which an iron door swung open before him.
In the room, a man was sitting on a stool with his back to the door. When Athos and his companions entered the cell, the man stood up and turned around. This man was an exact reflection of Athos.
"My brother! Have you come to visit me?" cried Athos's double.
“Who are you?” asked Athos.
- Your brother and your shadow! - the double answered. - Every person has his second self. Didn't you know? Duchesses, imagine, the count knew nothing about us!
From somewhere in the depths of the chamber, two Duchesses de Chevreuse emerged, both of them young and beautiful.
“Count, you are so naive!” exclaimed the one standing to the left.
“Which of us did you love?” the one standing to the right chimed in.
“I leave you in this pleasant company,” said Athos’s double in the King’s voice, “and I myself am going to freedom.”
Athos looked closely at his double and saw with horror that this man was the spitting image of the King.
"Wait a minute! You found this in the trench, didn't you?" said the King's double, pointing to Athos's sword, hanging in its scabbard on his baldric.
With these words, he pulled the family sword from Athos's sheath, looked carefully at its hilt and said:
"This sword has not brought you happiness, Count, but it has caused you much grief," said the King's double. "Now it will bring you relief."
With these words he plunged his sword into Athos's chest.
Athos felt a warmth radiating from his chest, saw a bright flash of light, and then fell into a soundless darkness, where all senses left him except his sight, which informed him that solid darkness had spread around him.
Only somewhere in the distance a distant violet star was pulsating faintly. It was pulsating in sync with the count's weakening pulse. But soon its blinking began to slow down, and the light became more and more dim, and finally it went out too.

LI. Another part of the King's order

A few days after the events described, d'Artagnan and Porthos arrived in Crete. The part of the coast that was still controlled by the allies was guarded by French troops. Our friends also arrived on one of the ships that had delivered to the fortress, on d'Artagnan's orders, the gunpowder, ammunition, and provisions that he had purchased there. Based on his high military rank and using the King's order that he had preserved, d'Artagnan organized and led this small sea expedition, in the success of which neither the ship's captain nor his crew believed. But, obeying d'Artagnan, the ship sailed and, despite the shelling of coastal artillery from the Turkish part of the island, the navigator, following d'Artagnan's commands, managed to steer the ship in relative safety to its intended destination. The navigator made sure that the ship did not run aground, and d'Artagnan gave orders for sharp maneuvers that allowed them to dodge the rare cannon shots from the Turkish side.
The delivered cargo was joyfully received by the commandant of the fortress, who escorted d'Artagnan and Porthos to the rooms of one of the inner towers as the most welcome guests.
"The cargo you have brought is most opportune!" asked Grimaldi. "But since the captain of the king's musketeers with such broad powers has arrived without an army, you have probably brought us some order for your troops from the King of France? Or are you taking command of some part of the defenders of the fortress under your command?"
“His Majesty has not received news from the fortress for a long time and sent me to find out how things are, what help is needed and when we can expect the end of the campaign,” replied d’Artagnan.
"We have nothing to please the King of France with," Grimaldi answered gloomily. "We will hold the fortress as long as we can, but its surrender to the Turks is only a matter of time."
"Damn it, you have several thousand fighters here!" exclaimed Porthos.
"Our forces are constrained in their actions, while the forces of the Ottoman Empire are many times superior to ours, especially at sea," answered Grimaldi. "They surround us, methodically breaking down the walls of the fortress. I am surprised how you managed to slip past their warships."
"A little art and a great deal of luck," replied d'Artagnan. "And yet, is there no way to save the situation?"
"A few days ago a monk came to us, who told us that he had been sent by the general of the Jesuit Order," answered Grimaldi. "He offered us a means of fighting the Turks."
“What did it consist of?” asked d’Artagnan.
"He suggested that we scatter dead fish along the coast, sprinkled with some mysterious substance," the commandant replied. "According to him, the seagulls that would feed on this fish would subsequently bring a deadly disease to the Ottoman ships, which would cause a plague in the Turkish camp, after which the Turks would have to retreat."
“This is not war, but meanness,” replied d’Artagnan. “However, meanness and war are synonyms. In the Greek book on total war, any meanness towards the enemy is completely acceptable, since it is considered just another way of waging war. That’s why it is total. And there are no other wars. So war knows no laws except victory at any price, which both sides strive for, and which one side achieves at best. But it also happens that no one wins. But what did this Jesuit say about his method? How could the seagulls, having brought an epidemic to the Turkish ships, not have affected the ships of the French and Venetian fleets?”
“We asked the same question to the Jesuit monk,” replied Grimaldi, “to which he replied that he knew a medicine that could completely cure anyone who became infected with this deadly disease.
“What is the dose of such medicine for one patient?” asked d’Artagnan.
“The Jesuit said that one bottle of such medicine is enough to cure five people,” answered Grimaldi.
"There are about ten thousand soldiers in the fortress, and about a quarter of that number are women and old people!" d'Artagnan exclaimed. "Add to that the fleets of two countries! You'll need several barrels of this medicine and a whole staff of doctors! Besides, the epidemic would have spread to the mainland, and it could have become completely uncontrollable!"
“That is why we rejected the Jesuit’s offer,” Grimaldi replied.
- And you were absolutely right, Commandant! - exclaimed d'Artagnan and firmly shook Grimaldi's hand. - Cold arms, muskets, guns and cannons - these are the real weapons of war! The poisons invented in Italy and used by the Jesuits, I hope, will never be used in wars in such quantities that the result can get out of control. I hope that this monk does not intend to implement his idea himself?
"We thought he was indifferent to the outcome of the campaign, and our refusal to take advantage of his offer did not seem to disturb him in the least," replied the commandant. "He retired without a trace of emotion, and I was informed that he sailed to the coast in a small vessel, accompanied by a gloomy man who acted as skipper and servant."
"What did he look like?" asked d'Artagnan.
“A very young man of medium build, with deep-set eyes and wide brow ridges,” replied Grimaldi.
“No, it’s not Aramis,” d’Artagnan said to himself.
“What did you say, excuse me?” the commandant asked again.
"Nothing, I'm just thinking out loud," the captain replied. "May I speak to my countrymen? I'd like to see the Duke of Beaufort."
“Unfortunately…” said Grimaldi, “however, I see that Count de Guiche is coming towards us, he will tell you everything that interests you, but allow me to leave you to prepare for the further defense of the fortress.”
- Goodbye, Commandant, and good luck! - answered d'Artagnan, putting two fingers to his hat, thus saluting the Commandant as his equal in rank. - Count, I am immensely glad to see you! You, I see, are not wounded! Fortune protects you!
“I have lost two fingers, but that is nothing; Fortune has been more merciful to me than to other commanders,” Count de Guiche answered with a sigh. “It would have been better for me to die in this sortie.”
- What are you saying, Count! - d'Artagnan was surprised. - Who got it from the capricious Greek goddess of fortune this time?
"The imagery of your speech, Captain, will vanish after I tell you the names of the dead," replied de Guiche. "Our commander-in-chief, the Duke de Beaufort, disappeared without a trace during a night raid."
"It can't be!" cried d'Artagnan. "He disappeared without a trace? How can a man disappear in front of so many fighting men?"
- Although it was a moonlit night, clouds covered the moon at the moment of landing, we fought in almost complete darkness. Only occasionally did flashes from our and the enemy's muskets illuminate the battlefield, and four times the barrels of gunpowder exploded, with which we destroyed two Turkish cannons and collapsed two of their mines under the fortress, - de Guiche answered sadly. - The sortie could have been called successful, if not for the loss of our commander-in-chief. The Duke was a desperate warrior, he was completely oblivious to danger, and, apparently, chased after some particularly fiercely fighting Turk, in the heat of the chase he broke away too far from the detachment and was killed or captured.
"This is a great misfortune!" cried d'Artagnan. "Did not envoys come after this with an offer to return the Duke for an appropriate ransom?"
“There were no parliamentarians,” de Guiche replied.
"Then the Duke is dead," said the captain, more to himself than to de Guiche. "The King will not forgive us this loss."
"The Duke was an uncontrollable man, whom even the King could not control. Even Cardinal Mazarin could do nothing with his wayward character. We could only carry out his orders and try to protect him as best we could. But I do not absolve myself of blame for this tragic incident," replied de Guiche. "The most reasonable thing for me is to die as gloriously as my commander died, and as the Vicomte de Bragelonne died."
- Vicomte de Bragelonne? - cried d'Artagnan. - You said that Vicomte de Bragelonne was killed?
"Crushed by a cannon that collapsed from an explosion," de Guiche sighed. "Apparently, he was wounded before that, which is why he fell into an enemy trench, where he met his death."
- Unhappy youth! What an evil fate! Poor Raoul! - cried d'Artagnan. - Unhappy Athos! He will not survive this. Forgive me, Count de la F;re, for bringing you such evil news!
"You speak of the Count de la F;re?" de Guiche was surprised. "You know, then, that he has recently arrived at the fortress?"
“So the count is in the fortress?” the captain was surprised.
"Not any more," de Guiche sighed sadly. "Upon learning of his son's death, the Count apparently drank poisoned wine. He was found the next morning, lifeless, in his bed. Three officers, with some authority from the King, loaded his body into a coffin and took it to the mainland."
- Three officers? With the powers of the King? - cried d'Artagnan. - Some officers again and some damn powers? Who read these orders?
“I have read them, Captain, since after the death of the Duke I remain the senior officer of the French army in this fortress,” answered de Guiche.
“What did they say?” asked the captain.
"It's all very vague," said de Guiche. "The paper stated that the bearers of this document were acting on the orders of the King and for the good of France, and that all officers of the land and sea forces of France were to render every assistance to these officers in their mission to arrest or execute state criminals.
"The same style and the same immense powers!" the captain said in despair. "Were the names of these officers there?"
"There was only one name on the paper they showed me," replied the Count. "That name was Lieutenant du Chante."
"Du Chante," d'Artagnan said thoughtfully. "I don't know such a lieutenant in the King's Guard. But I'll make his acquaintance, damn it! Count, we are forced to leave you, since I also carry out the King's orders and must ride on."
"Well," replied de Guiche, "the ship on which you arrived has already been unloaded, and the most seriously wounded have been loaded onto it. I suggest you dine, after which you can sail."
“We will dine on board, if I can stomach the astonishing news you have given me, Count,” replied d’Artagnan. “Today is the worst day of my life! I fear I have lost my taste for food for many days. Three deaths in two days! And what people! Count, I would like to meet a dozen or so Turks now to impale them on my sword, but I must hurry to the King to save the honor of the Count de la F;re and his son, if I have not succeeded in saving their lives!”
“Can the honor of such worthy people really be threatened?” de Guiche was surprised.
"And to a very great extent!" replied d'Artagnan. "Apparently some ill-wishers have blackened the Comte de la Fer and his son in the eyes of the King. His Majesty expected the most eccentric antics from them."
"If fighting under the flag of France, without sparing one's life, is considered an eccentricity," said de Guiche, "then there are plenty of such people here. Those who value their honor less than their lives have remained in France."
“Since recently there have been people around His Majesty who are trying to convince him not to trust my words too much, I ask you, Count, to draw up a report on the death of the Viscount de Bragelonne and the Count de La F;re as accurately and as quickly as possible.
"Such a report has already been drawn up in two copies. One is intended for the King, and the other I intended to send to the notary of the Count de La F;re in Blois," replied de Guiche.
- You are a wonderful man, Count! Give me both copies, I promise to deliver them to you faster and more reliably than any post office in the world.
“Let’s go up to my office,” answered de Guiche, “it won’t take more than a couple of minutes.”
“Thank you, Count! Let’s go,” the captain replied.
Taking the two sealed envelopes handed to him, d'Artagnan extended his hand to de Guiche to shake hands, but, obeying some unknown force, the two suddenly embraced as if they were old friends and were parting for a long time.
" I knew you as a clever courtier, Count," said d'Artagnan, "from which I conclude that I did not know you at all! Now I see before me a brave military man, with whom I am happy to make my acquaintance."
"I am neither," de Guiche answered sadly. "As a courtier I am constantly making mistakes, falling in love with someone I should never love. As a soldier I do not seem to make mistakes, but the fortune of war is very severe upon me. I foresee that I will meet my death in this field, but this fate does not frighten me in the least."
- And you are right about that, I tell you! - d'Artagnan said briskly. - Death on your bed among vials of medicine and surrounded by sobbing nurses who are only waiting for you to give up the ghost and free them from the burden of caring for an infirm old man! I would not wish such a prospect even on my enemy. How different it would be to fall from your horse, struck by a bullet or an enemy cannonball! To be buried like a hero under the flag of the Motherland, surrounded by soldiers who do not feign grief, but truly mourn the loss of a comrade in arms. Such a fate, I hope, is destined for me too. But do not rush into it! Fight as your duty dictates, but do not expose yourself to bullets for no reason. Farewell then!
“Farewell, captain,” replied de Guiche.
"Porthos, we are going!" cried d'Artagnan, turning to the giant, who was studying the fortifications of the fortress, accompanied by one of the junior officers. Leaning over the ramparts, he examined the equipment of the approaches to the fortress, not paying attention to the cannon shots from the Turkish side. "A surprisingly sensible fortress!" he exclaimed, finally descending to d'Artagnan.
- The devil take this fortress, and its architect, and those who besiege it, and those who defend it! - answered d'Artagnan. - Come, Porthos. I have something important to tell you. But not now, for God's sake. I have no strength for this. Quickly, to the ship and home to France!
“So we won’t look for Raoul?” asked Porthos.
"We won't find him here," the captain answered angrily. "Damn this fortress and this war! Let's go."
And the friends hurried to the ship. On the way, the friends hardly spoke, because each was immersed in his own thoughts. In addition, there were many strangers on the ship, which did not give the opportunity to speak frankly without fear of being overheard.
All the way the captain thought about how the King's cruel order to bring him evidence of his friends' death was inexplicably fulfilling itself. If the evidence of Porthos' death did not require that death to be carried out, then fate had decreed otherwise with regard to Raoul and Athos. Some mystical force was forcing this order to be fulfilled despite all of d'Artagnan's efforts, which made him feel helpless and furious like a lion driven into a cage.
"If this continues," he thought, "I will soon receive news of Aramis's death! I must decisively put an end to this game of cat and mouse with the death certificates of my friends! I have taken the wrong path! We must fight not the consequences, but the cause."

LII. Curses on the Marshal's Baton

"I never would have thought how much hatred the idea of receiving a marshal's baton could cause in me!" d'Artagnan said with bitterness when the friends went ashore.
“I thought the same thing about the title of Duke when I realized that it was not in the cards for me,” Porthos answered and winked.
"It is precisely the opposite thought that infuriates me. There is every reason to believe, my dear Porthos, that this staff is pursuing me and will be forcibly handed over to me so that I may throw it into the sea!" replied the captain.
"Why throw such magnificent objects around?" Porthos was surprised. "After all, this is a sign of royal respect and extremely high power."
“Every pleasure has its price, Porthos,” replied d’Artagnan. “There are some that you have to pay for in advance, and some that seem free are such that you sometimes have to pay for them your whole life. But there are others that you can only get by giving up a part of yourself, or, what’s worse, by simply destroying the best that remains in you. Well, the price I have to pay for this damned marshal’s baton is extremely unacceptable to me! It’s even higher than my life!”
“Then don’t pay it, d’Artagnan, and you won’t get that staff that began to irritate you before you got it!” replied Porthos.
"The devil's Fortune has decided to pay this price without my consent!" replied d'Artagnan. " And although I never raise my hand against women unless they ask for it, if that wretched girl called Fortune were to appear here and now, I swear I would pound her into the ground to the very top of her head!"
“You have received news that some of the conditions that were set before you have been fulfilled by themselves,” Porthos said thoughtfully.
- Exactly, Porthos, exactly! - exclaimed d'Artagnan.
“And since these conditions were to provide proof of the death of your friends, you have received one of these proofs,” Porthos continued, taking off his hat. “Which of the two? Speak up!”
- A thousand devils! - cried d'Artagnan. - I can't! I can't bring myself to say such a thing!
“Athos,” whispered Porthos in a hoarse voice, dropping his hat to the ground.
" By God, both of them!" cried d'Artagnan. "Do you hear me, Porthos? They are both dead!"
Porthos gently embraced d'Artagnan, pressing him to his heart.
"I would have been better off staying in the cave of Locmaria than learning of such a misfortune, d'Artagnan," he said. "You and I are seasoned warriors and are ready to appear before the Almighty at any moment, but young Raoul was still so young. And the Count, he loved him so much!"
"It was this love that ruined him," the captain sighed. "I was told that the Count, having learned of Raoul's death, took poison the following night."
"It is a great sin, but I do not condemn it," said Porthos. "However, the Count is not the man to die such a death. I should have expected him to attack the next day, or to stand at full height on the ramparts with a musket in his hand."
"By Jove, you are right, Porthos!" cried d'Artagnan. "Men like the Comte de la F;re do not take poison of their own free will. Colbert's spies poisoned him!"
“Then we go to Paris to kill Colbert and all his spies,” Porthos answered simply. “Anyway, revenge is the best way to survive grief!”
"Porthos, you must not show your face in Paris!" cried d'Artagnan.
"Just try to stop me!" the giant responded. "When it comes to taking revenge on Colbert for my friend and his son, there is no force that can stop me."
- Colbert, Colbert, damn Colbert! - cried d'Artagnan. - Porthos, we are not going to Paris.
- How so? - the baron was surprised. - Aren't we going to take revenge on Colbert?
- Listen, Porthos, we will take revenge on the man who is the real culprit of our friends' deaths! - cried d'Artagnan. - I am tired of hiding my friends and obtaining certificates of their deaths, false or real! Colbert is only an instrument in the hands of one who has decided to play with our lives and our honor! We will not deal with weapons, we will strike at the hand that directs them! We are going to Pignerol, to the island of Sainte-Marguerite!
“But after this you will allow me to strangle Colbert?” asked Porthos.
“That will not be necessary, Porthos,” replied d’Artagnan. “The worst punishment for a man who chooses to be an instrument of evil is to let that instrument rust in obscurity. Colbert will go to prison, for life. Every minute of his miserable life he will remember the murder of Athos and Raoul, and I will see to it that reminders of his crimes haunt him day and night. It will not be an ordinary prison, it will be, so to speak, a dungeon for a particularly evil person, custom-made! Damn it, I am a very kind and forgiving man, but if Colbert is the real culprit of the deaths of Athos and Raoul, I will arrange for him a life I would not wish even on Satan himself. But first we will cut off the hand that controls him!”
"Shall we kill the King?" asked Porthos, without a shadow of a doubt as to the permissibility of such a crime. "Shall we do to him as Cromwell did to Charles the First?"
"We will punish him without killing him," replied d'Artagnan. "He will be forced to repent of his vengefulness. And after that we will deal with Colbert."

LIII. D'Artagnan's Ethical Doubts

“Allow me, my dear Porthos, to ask you a few questions concerning the ethical side of my plan,” said d’Artagnan after some reflection.
"D'Artagnan, you have not yet initiated me into your plans, so it will be difficult for me to give you my advice," replied Porthos. "Besides, am I an expert in ethics? My business has always been to fight the enemy, and my enemies were chosen for me by the commanders, or by you, my friends!"
- Porthos, Porthos, stop being modest! - objected d'Artagnan. - We have known each other for so many years, we are bosom friends, and yet you always pretend to be such a simpleton! What has it led to? Aramis did not take the trouble to let you in on his plans, and I do not congratulate him on this. Something tells me that you would have agreed to help him even if he had honestly revealed all his plans to you. And even if you did not agree with some of this, you still would not have left him alone with his problems. And you do not need this notorious duchy and peerage! You were simply bored in your Pierrefonds!
"That's true, d'Artagnan, I won't argue," agreed Porthos. "I must admit that I realized that Aramis was leading me by the nose a little before he decided to admit it to me, so his confession did not shock me as much as it might have. But, I repeat, you did not acquaint me with your plan, and I do not consider myself an expert on ethics.
“Porthos, your great heart distinguishes good from evil far better than all the piety of Aramis and all the aristocracy of Athos put together!” cried d’Artagnan. “If it were up to me, I would make you Pope, and I would send straight to heaven all those whose sins you have absolved after death. The opinion of St. Peter is not such an authority for me as your assessment of the ethical side of any action! As for my plans, I am completely open before you. The King of France has declared war on me. I would have humbled myself before him if he had declared it on me alone, or even on me and Aramis alone. But he has declared it on me, you, Athos, and Raoul. He is offended at you, Porthos, for having become an involuntary assistant in Aramis’s plot. Here at least I can understand the logic of his reasoning and the reasons for his hatred.” He is angry with Athos for no reason at all, only because he is one of our four, and therefore your friend and Aramis's friend. But what has poor Raoul got to do with it? He is guilty only of having been mortally offended, and it was the King himself who did it! His Majesty takes revenge on those whom he himself has offended! The logic of his actions is that of an offended child. But he is far from a child. He is the King of France. He must be guided by other considerations!
“I will add to this that this logic does not fit in at all with the fact that he declared war on you specifically,” replied Porthos. “Aramis and I behaved towards him as conspirators, enemies. Athos showed disrespect for the King and demonstrated deliberate disobedience, and Raoul is the cause of this disrespect and disobedience. But he has no reason to be offended by you! Admit it, d’Artagnan, you declared war on the King because he declared it on you.”
- The devil take me, Porthos! - cried d'Artagnan, after which he added a few strong Gascon words, the meaning of which Porthos could only guess from the intonation. - That is why I turned to you as an expert on ethics! For it seems you are damn right! The death of Athos and Raoul was only the last drop that filled the cup of my patience. My discontent arose earlier, when the King only handed me that damned order! I thought that I could outwit him, but I should have realized at once that this is war! I treated the King with patience for the reason that I hoped to easily outwit him, but when I saw that it was he who was outwitting me, my patience ended, and hatred arose. You opened my soul to me, which you understand better than I do myself!
“You can hardly be blamed for the feelings which this whole rotten situation arouses in you,” said Porthos. “For Athos and for Raoul, I would strangle Louis with these hands, despite the fact that he is our legitimate King, that he is old enough to be our son, and not taking into account that he may have believed that he was only defending himself and his power against five rebels. And when you said, d’Artagnan, that you would forgive the King for a war declared only against you and only against Aramis, you were sincere, and I believe you. You would not have sought to eliminate the King if he had threatened only you. And you would not have turned against him only because of Aramis, for two reasons. First, Aramis himself is to blame; he was the first to make an attempt on the King, so he deserved a retaliatory war. Secondly, Aramis is not so easy to take. In any case, it is easier to catch and hold a live eel with two fingers than to catch and punish Aramis.
“That’s right,” agreed d’Artagnan.
— Well, the English decided in their courts that the King is not a power given by God, but a person who received power by virtue of a historically established system of nominating leaders from the people. And this leader must take care of the welfare of the state, as well as the welfare of every law-abiding citizen of this state. If the King does not fulfill these functions, the people have the right to deprive him of the rights of King. And if the King committed crimes against the people, the people, among other things, can also judge him.
“And you agree with this, Porthos?” asked d’Artagnan.
- When you and I tried to save Charles of England from execution, we did not discuss this matter, we simply followed Athos, - answered Porthos. - But what happened happened. As a human being, I am very sorry for poor Charles. However, I have thought about this matter for a long time. Charles had a million livres, but he did not pay his soldiers. Cromwell paid the Scots half of Charles's debt, and they gave him the King. Could anyone have acted more stupidly than Charles did?
“Yes, it was not the best government in the history of England, but Charles believed that he was the only source of law in a state that he considered simply his property,” answered d’Artagnan. “He was born into the King’s family, was brought up as a prince, and lived all his life with the profound conviction that his family was not only one of the most important and noble families in England, but that his family owned all of England and the entire population of this state, absolutely and forever, as you or I own our sword, our horse, or our boots. What do you want from him?”
“I don’t want anything from him anymore, but the people of England, apparently, wanted from him what he couldn’t give,” answered Porthos.
- So, Porthos, do you admit that you and I can rebel against the King, who has declared war on us and our friends, or would that be treason?
“It would be a betrayal, but we have the right to do it, since it would be a response to betrayal,” Porthos answered simply.
"And Aramis's scheme?" asked d'Artagnan. "Do you justify it?"
"To judge him, one must know all the circumstances that forced him to act as he did," replied Porthos. "I forgave him, and even told him that I did not intend to judge him, and that I had neither the right nor the desire to do so. The King did not forgive him. And in all conscience, it seems to me that Aramis's mistake was that he did not reveal himself to you and Athos.
"And to you, Porthos!" added d'Artagnan. "He should have opened up to you first!"
“Well, I don’t argue,” agreed Porthos. “Perhaps he was afraid that I would not accept his offer.”
- And what the devil then? - cried d'Artagnan. - After all, you had every right to abandon this undertaking if it had been presented to you honestly and consistently! Did Aramis really fear that you would betray him? This is impossible! I rule it out categorically!
“Of course, I would not have betrayed Aramis even if my flesh had been torn with red-hot pincers!” replied Porthos. “And it saddens me to think that Aramis could have thought me capable of such a betrayal of friendship. But I believe that he feared something else. He feared that I would demand that he acquaint you, d’Artagnan, and Athos with his plan. And I would have demanded it of him. Besides, he probably feared that I might tell you about it myself if he had not agreed to share this secret with you. But here he is mistaken. If he had forbidden me to divulge this plan to you, I would not have let it slip. Another person’s secret is sacred to me. Especially the secret of one of us. I would have been very sad that it turned out this way, but I would have been mute as the grave.
"All three of us have always seen in you, Porthos, first of all, only a mountain of muscles, " said d'Artagnan with a sigh. "And you are a philosopher worse than Socrates, an ethicist better than Seneca and Aristotle, you could put them all to shame!"
“Well, I’m ready to fight hand-to-hand with your Socrates, Seneca and Aristotle, let them come at me all three of them!” replied Porthos.
- Porthos! - cried d'Artagnan. - Go to hell! You are joking again, pretending to be a simpleton!
- You've figured me out! - Porthos replied and burst out laughing. - So what? Are we going to overthrow His Majesty Louis XIV? I'm ready!
"On two conditions, Porthos!" replied d'Artagnan. "We will not overthrow him, but replace him with another. We will simply carry out the same castling that Aramis conceived, and which you and he carried out."
- And which you, as I understand, repeated, after which the prisoner became a prisoner again, and the King became the King again! - Porthos picked up. - Castling, so castling. I don’t know what it means, but I agree in advance!
"It's like replacing a player in a game of ball," replied d'Artagnan. "My second condition is that you don't take part in it."
“Why is that?” Porthos was indignant.
"Yes!" thought d'Artagnan. "I want to protect him, but how can I persuade him to stay away from danger? It's impossible!"
"I will have a special task for you," said d'Artagnan. "You will be my reserve, my secret weapon. If I fall into the Bastille, you will come and get me out of it."
“If my strength were enough, I would do it, but I fear that to invade the Bastille one needs a mind like yours, or at least like Aramis’s,” objected Porthos.
“It is precisely with Aramis that you will save me from the Bastille!” replied d’Artagnan.
“But how and where can I find him if necessary?” asked Porthos.
- Porthos, you don't know our Aramis very well! - replied d'Artagnan. - If I find myself in the Bastille, it will be necessary to rescue me. And Aramis will certainly learn of this. And he will certainly need to make use of your help. And in that case, he will find you himself, wherever you are.
“But Aramis thinks that I died in the cave of Locmaria!” objected Porthos.
“You can’t hide an awl in a sack,” replied d’Artagnan. “Just as all of France is not enough to conceal the existence of a giant named Baron du Valon! Sooner or later, Aramis will learn of it. All we have to do is make sure that Aramis learns of it before His Majesty Louis XIV and his Colberts do. You are going to England on an important mission. And don’t argue! Don’t make me regret my frankness! I don’t want to repeat Aramis’s mistake, but I would be sad to learn that it was not Aramis, but I who made the mistake of entrusting all my plans to you in detail.”
“Let’s discuss this some more,” said a dissatisfied Porthos.
"We will talk about this again," replied d'Artagnan. "But a little later. Don't you think it's time for a bite to eat?"
- It's about time! - Porthos answered enthusiastically. - In all this talk I completely forgot that war is war, and food is food! No wonder I see that my mood is gradually souring! And this is just a snack!
As d'Artagnan expected, the hearty and abundant dinner significantly raised Porthos's mood and he seemed to have completely forgotten that d'Artagnan was going to take his revenge on the King for the lives of Athos and Raoul himself, without his, Porthos's, help.


LIV. The Faubourg of Pierrefonds

Fatty Mouston, despite the orders he had received from Porthos and d'Artagnan, did not dare to undertake the journey to England, where he had been ordered to go. Dressed in Porthos's clothes, living in an inn near Pierrefonds, he could not bring himself to return to Pierrefonds, where he was considered dead, but he could not bring himself to travel to an unknown overseas country.
The cuisine in the tavern could not compare with the exquisite cuisine in the baron's house, so Muston, accustomed to delicacies, did not have much of an appetite. In addition, he was bored sitting in the tavern, the interior of which did not at all resemble the luxurious rooms of the baron's castle. Muston acquired the habit of walking in the park and going out to the river, admiring the views of nature. And although he did not lose much weight, he got a taste for it and loved walking, initially making two hundred steps a day, which for his heavy figure was already a great feat, gradually increasing this distance to three and four hundred steps a day.
Once, while resting from a difficult journey in the shade of a spreading oak tree, under which the owner of the inn had built a fairly strong bench with a back, he glanced at the road, remaining unnoticed by the travelers passing by.
Suddenly he thought he noticed d'Artagnan, who was apparently in a hurry to escape some pursuit, but was apparently saving his horse's strength, since his haste was more ostentatious than real. The captain of the king's musketeers was wearing his usual costume, and Mouston also recognized the captain's horse, his hat, his figure. The captain's face was not visible, since he was wearing a mask.
"It's not such dusty weather today to wear a road mask," Muston said to himself. "And why did the captain decide to put one on? I've never seen him wear one before."
While pondering this event, Muston continued to look down the road, and in a few minutes he saw three guardsmen riding along the road, evidently on the captain's trail, as was shown by the fact that they were looking closely at the tracks on the road and at the surroundings, and by the fact that they rode in the same direction and at about the same speed. Muston thought that these guardsmen were not at all anxious to overtake the captain, but rather were trying to keep the same distance between themselves and the person they were chasing.
"But these men are up to no good!" said Muston to himself. " They look like bandits who are going to rob the captain. Fools! He will put them on his long sword one by one!"
Muston rose and headed to his room in the tavern.
"They weren't bandits," Muston continued to think, talking to himself. "Bandits dress up as common people, but these were military men. It looks like they were the captain's men, who got left behind on the road and are trying to catch up with him."
Muston sat down on the bench and took off his boots with pleasure, something he had not been able to do on his own for a long time.
- Well, yes, of course! - he objected to himself. - If they were the captain's men, they would be musketeers! Besides, they didn't look like they were in a hurry.
Wearing soft, warm socks instead of shoes, Muston went to the kitchen to get something to eat. Looking at the food being prepared in the kitchen, he took a crispy chicken leg with displeasure, bit it feebly, and threw the bone out the window to the dogs.
"Decidedly unsuitable food, coarse peasant food," he said, and sat down on the sofa. "Why did Monsieur d'Artagnan go to Pierrefonds if he knew perfectly well that the Baron was not there?" he asked himself. "Has he forgotten that?"
Muston began to pull on his boots with determination.
"He'll soon reach Pierrefonds, find that the Baron isn't there, of course, and then he'll turn around and go back," he said, groaning as he put on his left boot. "We must warn him that there are spies on his trail."
After this, Muston also pulled on his right boot and slowly moved towards the road along which, according to his calculations, Monsieur d'Artagnan would soon be passing.
Muston's calculations were almost correct. True, the captain appeared on the horizon much earlier than Muston expected. It seemed that he had not even entered Pierrefonds, but only having reached the borders of the estate, turned his horse and galloped back.
Muston waved his arms and, with as much haste as his figure would allow, jumped out onto the road.
"Captain, wait!" he cried. "It's me, Muston! There are three spies on your trail!"
The captain seemed not to hear Muston's words and did not recognize him.
"You must know that you are being pursued!" Muston shouted at the top of his voice.
The captain stopped his horse, turned around and rode up to Muston.
“What did you want to tell me, sir?” he asked.
Mouston realized with surprise that this was not Captain d'Artagnan, although he was ready to swear that he recognized the captain's horse, his clothes and hat, and even his sword and boots. His hair and figure were also exactly the same. But the voice was strange, but elusively similar to d'Artagnan's. The man was wearing a mask, and so Mouston realized that if he could not see his face, he could mentally imagine it, since the mask was thin. Imagination added to his facial features the ones he expected to see, but this was obviously a completely different person, although with the same large Gascon nose.
"Forgive me, for God's sake, I mistook you for someone else," said Muston, and turned away, intending to return to the inn. But then it occurred to him that, apparently, this man, who looked remarkably like the captain of the king's musketeers, was probably also a very good man, and that meant that it would not be a bad idea to warn him that spies or robbers were following him.
“Do you know, sir, that three armed horsemen are following you, probably spies or robbers?” he asked.
- Oh, those! - the rider waved his hand. - It's nothing. I know about them. However, thank you, but I have to go!
With these words, the rider spurred his horse and disappeared around the bend.
After a while, the three suspicious individuals whom Muston had taken for spies rushed past him again, this time in the opposite direction.
"They're definitely after this man," Muston told himself.
Taking off his boots again, he said:
- Monsieur d'Artagnan will not give away his clothes, sword, hat, boots, or even his horse just like that. It is impossible to take all of this away from him! Unless you kill him treacherously!
A little later he added:
- Monsieur d'Artagnan was not alone, but with Monsieur Baron. To take all the things from Monsieur Captain without even ruining his clothes is simply unthinkable.
As he lay down to sleep, Muston said to himself:
- The last time Monsieur d'Artagnan was with Monsieur the Baron, he was wearing completely different clothes, he had a different sword, a different hat, and a different horse. If his clothes, sword, hat, and horse had been stolen, he would certainly have cursed that person and would have given chase after him. Therefore, he gave or lent all his ammunition to that person. Therefore, this person is a friend of Monsieur the Captain.
Fluffing his pillow, Muston said:
- Monsieur d'Artagnan would never give his sword or his horse to a person he barely knows. Either that person is a very close friend of Monsieur the Captain, or he is carrying out some important mission, or he is his son.
Turning on his right side, Muston said:
- If this man is the son of Monsieur d'Artagnan, then it becomes quite clear why he resembles him so much in posture, figure, hair, and even to some extent in his face, as far as I could judge by his nose. And he is of the right age. True, he had a gray moustache, but I noticed flour on his collar. So the moustache was simply sprinkled with flour.
Closing his eyes and calling for sweet, peaceful sleep, Muston muttered almost in his sleep:
- Monsieur d'Artagnan has a son, a spitting image of himself, who for some reason has decided to impersonate Monsieur the Captain. Spies are hot on his trail, but he knows it and is not at all worried. Therefore, Monsieur the Captain's son is simply distracting the spies. No wonder, since Monsieur the Baron has dressed up in my clothes and has made me put on his clothes. It seems that a great carnival spectacle with disguises is being staged throughout France, and I am also taking part in this spectacle. I must impersonate Monsieur the Baron, since I have been ordered to put on his clothes. I suppose I should have guessed this myself. Well, I have guessed. I will try to practice speaking in Monsieur the Baron's voice and imitating his walk tomorrow.
As Muston's character was extremely phlegmatic, all his reflections did not disturb his serene mood, since he was convinced that his beloved Baron was alive and well, and he cared nothing for the rest. Therefore, five minutes after his last maxim, our Muston sank into the most serene sleep.

LV. The Adventure of Francois

Our readers, of course, recognized Fran;ois in the stranger who looked so much like d'Artagnan. He still wore the captain's costume, the sword, the boots, and the hat of a captain, and he rode on the horse of the captain of the king's musketeers.
In carrying out d'Artagnan's orders, he distracted Colbert's spies, who were perplexed as to the purpose of the man they had been ordered to follow, making such senseless journeys. Their patience was already exhausted, they were waiting for the slightest pretext to execute the order to arrest this man, and they saw this pretext in the fact that, as they noticed, he stopped for a few minutes to exchange a word with a certain man on the road. It was obvious that this man was waiting for him, that is, he knew of his arrival, besides, in appearance he answered to the description of the wanted Baron du Valon. They had hardly gone a sufficient distance from the place where the meeting had taken place, when the eldest of the three stopped his horse and made a sign to the other two to do the same.
- Du Cloy, go back and follow the accomplice of the captain d'Artagnan we are pursuing! This man matches the description of one of the wanted state criminals, Baron du Valon.
"Yes, Lieutenant d'Elsorte!" replied du Cloy.
- And you, de Lortie, follow me! Today we will arrest the captain! - ordered d'Elsorte.
"Well, well!" said de Lortie, as they set off in pursuit of Fran;ois. "I thought du Valon was a giant. I thought he'd be taller and all muscle. But he's just a fat man!"
"But surely the nickname 'giant' suits him?" objected d'Elsorte.
"Oh, yes!" agreed de Lortie. "You rarely meet a man of that size just like that, on the street!"
 
At the moment when Muston was falling asleep, one of the three spies was hiding under the window of his room, carefully watching every action of the phlegmatic fat man. The other two went after the military man they were pursuing and decided to arrest him at the first hotel where he stopped.
The fact is that they knew not only the name of the officer they were pursuing, but also his fencing skills, strength and intelligence. Attacking him on the road seemed to them too dangerous and therefore unwise. They decided to take him by surprise, in the tavern, while he was sleeping.
Fran;ois, meanwhile, understood perfectly well with whom he was dealing.
When he went to bed, he pushed the bolt, which seemed to him not strong enough, so he propped the door with a poker, placed a chamber pot under the door, poured olive oil on the sill of the only window, put his sword next to him, extinguished the candle and lay down in bed without undressing.
The eldest of Colbert's spies, Lieutenant d'Elsorte, decided to break into the room through the doors, while he ordered his comrade de Lortie to climb in through the window to prevent him from leaving that way. He thrust a dagger through the cracks of the door and with it gradually moved the bolt. After this, he decided to throw the doors open with one blow, but they did not give in because the poker was in the way. Then he realized that he could not break into the room unexpectedly, and he pushed the doors several times with force, finally the poker fell and the doors opened.
D'Elsorte burst into the room, but tripped over the poker, almost falling. The intruder cursed, then tripped over the chamber pot, making even more noise. Fortunately for the lieutenant, the pot was empty, but unfortunately for him, he still fell. Before he could rise, he felt the cold steel of a sword at his neck.
"Lie where you are, my dear, otherwise your slightest movement will be your last!" exclaimed Fran;ois.
At that moment the window of the room opened and de Lortie appeared in the window with a musket in his hand.
"You're under arrest! Surrender or I'll shoot!" he shouted and grabbed the windowsill with his free hand, but his hand slipped and he fell down, only managing to fire a shot into the ceiling of the room as he fell.
"My dear fellow, I don't know what to call you," said Fran;ois, who seemed completely oblivious to what had happened at the open window. "Tell your friends to lay down their arms and get out, or I'll stab you in the throat."
The defeated d'Elsorte regretted with all his heart that he had sent du Cloy to watch the fat man they had met by the road. Together, even in the conditions of complete surprise, they had no chance against this lively warrior.
However, de Lortie, who had fallen from the second floor, did not lose his head. He turned to the innkeeper, referring to the order of Colbert, who had shown him d'Elsorte before, and ordered him to gather his men to arrest the state criminal. The innkeeper had three strong grooms, whom he called for help. The five men armed themselves with whatever they could, and then de Lortie threw open the doors of the room and shouted:
- In the name of the King, Monsieur d'Artagnan, you are under arrest!
"Do you want me to stab your boss in the throat?" asked Fran;ois.
“Then we won’t arrest you, we’ll kill you,” exclaimed de Lortie.
"I don't plan to die," Fran;ois replied, "but surrendering in such a favorable position, even though there are five of you, is too offensive to me, because your boss is worth something? I propose a compromise. You get out of here, I'll leave him alive and leave another way, for example, through the window. Does this option suit you? Just don't even think of cheating, otherwise your lieutenant will die!"
"In the name of the King you will be killed, d'Artagnan!" cried the second of the spies, who had assembled an improvised militia from the innkeeper and his three grooms.
"Not this time, gentlemen!" a fierce voice came from behind them. "D'Artagnan, kill yours and go out and deal with these, I'm here!"
None of those standing at the door understood where this enraged warrior had come from, behind whom, in addition to everything else, stood a servant with a loaded musket in each hand.
- Gentlemen, there are five of you, we have four loaded muskets, - said the one who had come to d'Artagnan's aid in a calm voice. - We will kill four of you with the first volley, d'Artagnan will meanwhile pierce the throat of the fifth. The one who remains alive will be alone against the three of us. Does this option suit you?
The attackers stood frozen in a silent scene.
- Swords on the floor, immediately! Or what have you got there - pitchforks, skewers, picks, shovels? Hands behind your heads, and come down one by one, - said the formidable warrior. - Keep in mind, I'm not joking. On the count of three we fire. Come on, quickly! One!... Two!
"Stop! Don't shoot! We surrender!" said the innkeeper, who quickly realized that no one would hold him accountable for the fact that, not being a military man, he considered it reasonable to submit to the brute force and superiority of the enemy.
The grooms obediently threw down their primitive combat equipment, descended one by one, and each of them had their hands and feet tied by the servant of the fierce warrior.
After this, de Lortie had no choice but to capitulate, while Fran;ois led out d'Elsorte, whom he was escorting, and whom the victors then also tied up.
“But you don’t seem to be d’Artagnan!” exclaimed the fierce warrior.
“You are not the first to tell me this,” replied Fran;ois, “so I am forced to believe your words.”
"Who the hell are you?" asked the brave warrior.
"I could ask you the same question, but I will refrain," smiled Fran;ois. "Whoever you are, you have come at the right time, and I will tell Monsieur d'Artagnan that you have shown extraordinary courage and exceptional timing in helping me, believing that you were helping him!"
"So you know him!" concluded the brave warrior. "I suppose your resemblance to him is not accidental. It misled not only these blockheads, but also someone more perceptive!"
"That was his object, as far as I can judge," replied Fran;ois, "and so I have not undertaken this business in vain. But once you have informed these gentlemen that they are mistaken about my name, it is quite useless to conceal it any longer. So, gentlemen, I declare with all frankness that my name is not d'Artagnan, as the gentleman has just informed you."
"Damn it! We've been tricked!" cried d'Elsorte.
"I am glad to hear it!" exclaimed the unknown savior. "Well, young man, I understand that you have rendered Captain d'Artagnan some service which he asked of you! Therefore, you are his friend, and therefore mine too. Your hand!"
“Fran;ois Perrin at your service,” the young man replied, extending his hand to the unknown savior.
“Henri-Ren; d'Herblay, Bishop of Vannes,” replied the stranger, shaking Fran;ois's hand firmly.
"What shall we do with them?" asked Fran;ois, pointing to the prisoners.
“I have my own method,” replied Aramis. “There is no time to bother with them, and we will not kill them. Why take the sin upon our souls? Let us tie them up and make them drink a couple of bottles of undiluted wine from this scoundrel’s cellar. That will give us a head start of ten or twelve hours, which is quite enough. Tell me, my friend, were there only two of them?”
“There was another one, but he got left behind on the way!” Fran;ois exclaimed.
“And you were coming from the direction of Pierrefonds,” nodded Aramis. “Well, we’ll have to go back for the third fellow, otherwise the situation will develop uncontrollably. Bazin, take care of these blockheads. You’ve heard what needs to be done with them. Add a little sleeping draught to the wine, but just a little, so that it doesn’t kill them. Since they’re already tied up, all that’s left is to get them drunk. However, Monsieur Fran;ois, there are too many of them for Bazin alone, even though they are tied up. I’m afraid that someone might slip away in the rush. Stay and help Bazin deal with them, and I’ll check our rear.”
With these words, Aramis ran out of the inn as lightly as a young man, jumped on his horse and galloped along the road to the inn not far from Pierrefonds where Mouston and Colbert's third envoy, who was spying on him, remained.

LVI. The Awakening of Muston

Muston was dreaming a sweet dream when he suddenly felt something heavy pressing on his chest. He opened his eyes and found himself tied tightly to the bed on which he had been sleeping. Before him stood a fierce-looking guardsman, who was pointing a musket at him, apparently loaded.
"Got you, you scoundrel!" cried du Cloy. "Don't try to escape!"
“Very well, I won’t try,” Muston agreed. “It’s not so easy to escape when you’re tied to the bed with such strong ropes.”
“That’s why don’t try,” the guard agreed. “You’ve committed a terrible state crime and are subject to the death penalty!”
“You know better, Mr. Guardsman,” agreed Muston.
"There is an order from the King to that effect!" exclaimed du Cloy.
“Well, if that’s the case, then it’s probably true,” Muston nodded. “Just think! The King’s order about me! So His Majesty knows of my existence? He knows my name?”
"Of course, you scoundrel!" cried du Cloy. "We have orders to kill you as soon as we find you, and we are forbidden to communicate with you on pain of death!"
"Why do you communicate with me, good man?" asked Muston. "After all, that would mean killing you too, wouldn't it? You said it yourself: 'It is forbidden to communicate under pain of death.'"
- Damn it, damn it, damn it! Shut up and answer: your name! - exclaimed the guard.
“You decide for yourself whether to shut up or answer me, I can’t do both at the same time,” Muston answered meekly.
"You must tell me your name and nothing more!" shouted du Cloy, losing his composure.
“My name is Muston,” Muston replied.
“That doesn’t mean anything to me,” Du Cloy waved his hand. “I’m asking about your noble name!”
- About my noble name? - Muston was surprised. - Oh! Oh! My noble name! You know, I can hardly tell you that.
"Tell me, you scoundrel, or I'll cut off your ears and then something else!" the guardsman growled. "Come on! Speak!"
"Unfortunately, you are mistaken. I am not a nobleman," Muston said modestly.
"You can't fool me, I recognized you from your description!" exclaimed du Cloy. "You are a state criminal, Baron du Valon de Pierrefonds de Bracieux!"
"Oh, oh!" said Muston. "I don't dare..."
- Shut up, you scoundrel! Confess, that's your name, isn't it? - the guardsman was indignant.
"What if you did, would you kill me?" Muston asked.
“At that very moment, as soon as I am convinced that you are this very state criminal,” he replied.
“As far as I understand, there can be no talk of leniency,” Muston sighed.
- Not the slightest chance! - exclaimed the guard. - The King's order. Kill on the spot. No conversations or negotiations. No arrest, only death on the spot!
"What a pity that my master is in such mortal danger," thought Muston, "for he is so kind, and he has done so much for me. What happiness that I have the opportunity to repay him kindness for kindness!"
"Then, my dear fellow," said Muston calmly, "you are quite right. My name is Baron du Valon de Pierrefonds de Bracieux."
"In the name of the King!" cried D'Cloix, and plunged his sword into Mouston's chest.
At this moment the doors of the tavern swung open and Aramis appeared on the threshold, knocking down the doors with one kick.
"You scoundrel!" he cried. "Defend yourself!"
The guard pulled the sword from Muston's chest and pointed it at Aramis.
“Defend yourself, for I do not kill the unarmed,” Aramis cried again, after which he deftly parried the guard’s attack and almost immediately plunged his sword straight into the heart of the scoundrel du Cloy.
“Die then without absolution!” he said, and ran up to the dying Muston.
"Can you hear me, my friend?" he asked Muston.
"Monsieur d'Herblay, is it you?" whispered Mouston. "What happiness! Will you forgive me my sins?"
"Yes, my friend, yes!" replied Aramis, taking Mouston by the hand. "What sins can there be in such a good man as you?"
"Remember how I stole bottles from the innkeeper with a rope noose?" Muston whispered.
“I forgive you this sin and all the sins of your stormy youth,” said Aramis, taking out a pectoral cross and placing it on the lips of the dying man.
“There is one more sin,” Muston whispered.
“Which one?” asked Aramis.
“Gluttony,” Muston whispered with the last of his strength.
— The Lord forgives you, my son! Rest in peace, in the name of the Father and the Son and the Holy Spirit, amen!
A calm, happy smile appeared on Muston's face before he breathed his last.
Aramis closed Muston's eyes with his fingers, kissed him on the forehead and said:
- Sleep peacefully, comrade in arms.
After this, he cut the ropes with which Muston was tied and threw them out the window.
After searching the dead guard, he found a royal order in his pocket, the contents of which are already known to our readers. The order ordered the killing of state criminals, among whom were Athos, Porthos, Aramis and the Vicomte de Bragelonne. Aramis hid the order in his pocket and, closing the door, went in search of the innkeeper.
"A terrible thing has happened in your tavern," he said. "I was called to a dying man, but I found two. Apparently they fought and killed each other. It was probably a special duel, without seconds. Bury them both according to Christian custom."
With these words, Aramis threw a purse with fifty pistoles on the innkeeper's table and left the inn.

LVII. The Prisoner

Philippe, confined to the fortress of Pignerol, was ready to howl and climb the walls. Having spent almost his entire life in ignorance of who he was, as a child he believed that his reclusive lifestyle was not the exception but the rule.
Having received some books for general development, he first learned about life as a beautiful fairy tale that does not exist in the world, just as our children read fairy tales that tell of all sorts of miracles, wizards, fairies, genies and peris, flying carpets and wooden flying horses. None of this exists in life, but this does not prevent us from enjoying stories about such miracles. In the same way, Philip, reading books about real human life, believed that this was only a wonderful fiction.
As a young boy, he met by chance a young lady named Catherine Charlotte de Gramont, who so strongly shook his imagination that he felt within himself the strongest desire to meet her again, to talk to her, to listen to her, and perhaps to touch her hand someday. He thought of nothing else. Then he realized that beautiful princesses exist not only in books, but also in life. If he had been told then that genies, flying carpets, and flying horses also exist in life, he would have believed it too.
Over time, he learned to distinguish fairy tales from history books and books describing the ordinary lives of people. He learned that other people live completely differently from him. They communicate freely, travel, walk and drive wherever they want. They make friends, get married, have children.
Their life is not limited to just one house or a few rooms in a fortress. In other words, they are happy, while he is imprisoned, as if he is being punished for some unknown crime.
However, over time he got used to this unusual situation, believing that if the Lord had decided to settle him separately from other people, then this was his fate. He read books about the lives of schema monks and compared himself to them, believing his fate to be very similar to theirs. He devoted himself to prayer and asked the Lord to guide him on the true path.
All this life broke down in a single moment when he learned from the Abb; d'Herblay the truth about his amazing origin, that he was the brother of the King of France, and a brother born at almost the same time from the same womb, from the same mother and father, and having the same appearance. Having learned that Monsieur d'Herblay was not a simple abbot, but a bishop, he was filled with even more trust in him. The bishop convinced him that Philippe's rights were no less fundamental than Louis's, that the two brothers were completely equal in their rights, as if they were one in two persons. He himself felt the same, comparing his reflection in the mirror with the portrait of the King.
If so, then his rights had been grossly violated, since, having the right to be not even the second in the Kingdom, but the first person in the state, he could count on at least half of France as his own fiefdom, but instead he did not receive even a simple house with a small garden, where he could live peacefully, enjoying nature and freedom. The injustice committed against him seemed to him the greatest injustice in the world for all time, since nowhere in books, not even in the Bible, did he find anything even remotely reminiscent of such a monstrous injustice against one of the brothers, with a completely illegal usurpation of all power by the second brother, who, strictly speaking, was no different from him, Philip.
The desire to obtain his share of the kingdom, awakened in him by the Bishop of Vannes, even gave way to the desire to place the usurper, the King of France, in the position which Philip had occupied all his adult life.
But these two desires - to obtain legal rights and to punish the usurper - seemed to him just another fairy tale that was never destined to come true.
Everything would have remained the same if it had not been for the experiment, monstrous in its audacity and even more monstrous in its consequences, that the Bishop of Vannes carried out on him.
He replaced the King of France with him, placing Philip on the royal throne and Louis in prison. Philip thought it was unthinkable, impossible, a fairy tale, but when it happened, he believed that now all of France looked at him with awe and saw him as their King, but that was not the main thing. The main thing was that he had now become a free man who was in charge of his own destiny. It was not so important for him to control the destiny of his subjects, what did he care about them! The main thing was to finally find his own freedom, to find himself, to find the right to love, to ordinary human joys and sorrows instead of eternally remaining in the state of a prisoner serving punishment for someone else's sins, for someone else's injustice, for someone else's monstrous decision on his destiny.
Having lived one single day as a King, he believed that all his days, his whole life, would be like that, and as he fell asleep, he made plans for tomorrow, for the day after tomorrow, for the months and years ahead. He absolutely had to find Catherine Charlotte de Gramont and see if she recognized him. How sweet it would be to open up to her, to reveal his secret! Life had opened up thousands of possibilities for a happy and long life.
But, alas, the next morning he woke up in prison again, and did not even understand how he had ended up there again. Then the captain of the king's musketeers arrived and took him even further, infinitely far from Paris, from the King's brother, from the Queen Mother and from his younger brother who bore the same name as him, and from the crazy dream of Catherine Charlotte de Gramont.
Sometimes Philippe thought it would have been better for him not to know any of this, and to continue to live the life of an unknown prisoner in the Bastille. But at other times he thought that the single day he had been King was worth all the days he had been a prisoner.
"If I could be King of France just for one more day," thought Philip, "I would not put off until tomorrow the search for Mademoiselle Catherine Charlotte! I would live this day as if it were the last day of my life! How much brighter would my memories of this day be now, and yet I have nothing left but them!"
And Philippe recalled the cruel words of Captain d'Artagnan, that on that day too he was not the King, but merely a puppet in the hands of the Bishop of Vannes, because he could not make any decisions on his own, but could only voice the orders that the Bishop would prepare for him. He had so hoped for his paternal care, but the Bishop had disappeared and never appeared again! People, apparently, cannot be trusted, one should not rely on anyone, one cannot count on anyone. One can only rely on oneself, only on one's own strength, on one's own mind, on one's own understanding of life, on one's own opinion of what is good and what is bad for the country, for the people, for oneself!"
Philippe remembered that the captain had told him about a book that contained information on the history of France and several neighboring states. In addition, the captain said that this book was written in two languages, which made it possible to use it to study Spanish. True, you won’t learn to speak from it, but you can learn to read Spanish letters, especially since the two languages are not that different if you look into it, as Philippe found out by comparing identical texts in the two languages.
"I will study the history of France and Europe, I will learn Spanish as much as possible from this book!" Philippe said to himself and resolutely opened the book. "My God, what is this?"
Several sheets of paper fell out of the book, covered in someone's confident and sweeping handwriting. Philippe looked at the signature and was stunned: in the last lines of each letter there was one word: "Louis".
These were the King's letters! How did the captain get them?
Philippe, feeling a tremor of excitement, began to read these papers. The first paper was an order to the captain of the musketeers to prepare the troops for the next parade. The second paper contained an order to Monsieur Fouquet to give the captain of the king's musketeers one hundred pistoles for state needs. The third letter was addressed to Mademoiselle de La Valli;re, in which Louis begged her to return from the monastery.
“Each of these papers was obtained with great difficulty,” thought Philippe. “In order to preserve the second document, the captain spent his own hundred pistoles on state needs, preferring to keep the document that gave him the right to receive them from the royal treasury. The most amazing thing is the last paper! A letter from the King to his beloved! Not to give it to her was a crime! Obviously, the captain persuaded Mademoiselle de La Valli;re to return from the monastery without resorting to the letter, because if he had shown it to the one to whom it was addressed, she would never have given it back to him! The captain did not simply accidentally forget these letters in the book, he gave them to Philippe so that he could practice writing in the same handwriting that Louis wrote, and even so that he could study his style of writing in three types of royal letters! So, the captain does not exclude the possibility that Philippe will one day be able to return to the throne?!”
Philip's heart began to pound so hard that he thought he heard someone knocking on the shutters of his window. Realizing at last that it was the pounding of his own heart that was disturbing him, he tried to pull himself together and calm down.
"I must not entertain false hopes and live in vain illusions," he said to himself, "but I must not miss such a wonderful opportunity to complete my education to such a level that if I am fortunate enough to occupy the throne of the King of France again, I will not be thrown off it as easily as I was the first time. I will seize this opportunity so strongly that even if Louis comes to arrest me with an entire army, I will order this army to arrest him himself, and we will see who it will listen to!"
Philip knew that, by order of the captain, his jailers had supplied him with paper and a pen, but not with ink, and the inkwell contained only plain water. Thus, he could not write anything that would last long, but until the water dried, he could read what he had written.
“I am deprived of the opportunity to correspond, but I am given the opportunity to practice my handwriting, to get the hang of writing the King’s handwriting easily and without strain!” Philip guessed and promised himself to study the King’s handwriting in detail and learn to write such letters fluently that even the King himself would not be able to distinguish them from letters written by himself.
From that day on, Philippe began to study the book and train his hand. He had no time to indulge in bitterness about his unfortunate fate, he stopped regretting the missed opportunity, he completely agreed with the opinion of the captain of the Musketeers, Monsieur d'Artagnan, that, strictly speaking, he had not received the opportunity to become King, he had only been given a short opportunity to be a puppet of the Bishop of Vannes for some time. In this case, there was nothing to regret! The most significant result of this trick with the substitution of the King was Philippe's acquaintance with d'Artagnan! And if the captain believed that Philippe could be a real King, and not a puppet of some courtier, perhaps he would give Philippe a new chance to return to the place that he once occupied, but could not hold?!
From that day on, Philip's life became different, it was filled with meaning, purpose, aspiration that could one day come true. He stopped blaming fate for his past, he stopped lamenting his present, he began to live in the future.

LVIII. Freedom to the prisoner!

"Where are we going?" Porthos asked at the next stop, necessary to change horses and have a quick bite to eat.
“To Cannes, my friend, to Cannes!” replied d’Artagnan.
"The southern coast suits me," nodded Porthos. "I'm glad you abandoned the idea of getting rid of me and sending me to England. I don't like swallowing fogs."
"I have not abandoned the idea, but have only postponed it for the present, my dear Porthos," replied d'Artagnan. "Listen to me carefully. I will not repeat the mistake of Aramis. He has laid out his whole plan for you from the very beginning, and I will inform you of its modifications, since you are not only the possessor of astonishing physical strength, but also have an extremely fresh outlook on things.
“Yes, I have no complaints about my eyesight,” answered Porthos.
- Exactly! - smiled d'Artagnan. - So, I will tell you everything without concealment. Before we declare war on the King, we are going to free the King's brother, Prince Philip.
“It’s a noble cause,” agreed Porthos. “Let’s take him with us to England, it will be more fun with three of us.”
"We won't take him to England, we'll take him to Paris!" the captain objected.
"We will hardly be able to put a second King on the throne of France," Porthos doubted. "Two Kings on one throne is unheard of."
“Two are not required, one is enough – Philippe,” answered d’Artagnan.
"You want to replace them, as Aramis did," nodded Porthos. "So that's what you called castling? It's a good thing, but how are we going to do it?"
"Believe me, Porthos, if I knew how to do it, I would tell you," d'Artagnan replied hotly. "But at present I have not only no plan for this part of my proposal, but I have no plan sufficiently reliable for the liberation of Philippe. Honestly, I do not know how we shall do it!"
"Then we'll get our bearings," Porthos nodded. "That'll require a lot of energy. And we haven't eaten for eight hours."
- You are right as always, Porthos! - the captain agreed. - Forgive my forgetfulness. In this tavern we will correct the situation.
Half an hour later the friends were sitting at a table generously laden with food, which d'Artagnan had almost entirely pushed towards Porthos, limiting himself to half a partridge and one cup of Anjou wine.
“I want to drink to the freedom of one who has every right to it!” said Porthos, raising a full cup of Anjou wine after his strong jaws had crushed and sent into his stomach the second half of the partridge and a good-sized piece of ham.
“Freedom for the prisoner of absolutism!” agreed d’Artagnan.
"Are we going to overthrow this absolutism of his too?" asked Porthos after the Anjou had followed the partridge and ham.
"We'll see," the captain replied. "There's no need to rush into such drastic changes. Most of the nobility isn't ready to establish a republic like the Roman one. Let's just take a closer look at the King's current entourage, which seems to be changing rapidly."
“The disposition on the ground, I understand,” said Porthos, cutting off another piece of ham and filling his goblet.
"Speaking of disposition, Porthos," d'Artagnan continued. "Be careful in Cannes, there may be many of Colbert's spies there. Let's enter there disguised as greengrocers and see what's what. If we come there on horseback and with swords, I believe that we will have to force our way to the coast, and even our forces may not be enough for that."
"That damned Colbert is making me hide!" cried Porthos. "Someday I'll grab his neck with this hand, and then..."
- I see, I see... - d'Artagnan nodded. - There is common sense in your approach. But more on that later.
“As you say,” agreed Porthos, breaking off a sizable piece from the head of cheese and deftly throwing it into his mouth like a small pea.

On the last leg of the journey to Cannes, d'Artagnan was extremely silent and thoughtful. At the next inn, leaving the grooms to take care of the horses, the captain invited Porthos to take a walk along the alley.
"Porthos, I've thought it all over, you can't be hidden under any clothing," he said softly. "Besides, one scout can see much more than two, since he attracts less attention."
“I’m tired of being in the shadows, hiding, avoiding battles and pretending to be a simple citizen,” Porthos sighed. “After all, I’m a baron, damn me!”
“Remember, Baron, who gave you this title?” asked d’Artagnan.
- His Majesty the King of France! - Porthos said proudly, but then stopped short. - Oh, yes, the King...
“The same one who ordered the death of you, Baron du Valon,” the captain nodded. “And legally you are dead, Your Highness. I have in my hands a document that irrefutably proves this fact.”
"How unpleasant it is to be dead," Porthos grumbled. "The next time I am killed, I will sell my life dearly!"
- I think that the two dozen guardsmen who remained buried in the cave of Locmaria do not think that they bought your life cheaply, - d'Artagnan smiled. - However, in order to discuss this aspect of the price of your illustrious life with them, we should join them, and I would advise you not to rush with this, my dear friend. You are full of strength, vigor and optimism, and it would be extremely offensive if the cause of your next death was carelessness. You are no longer a boy, youthful carelessness does not suit you. Moreover, this second death may not be on paper, but in reality, which would be extremely distressing for me.
“Perhaps for me too,” agreed Porthos. “Well, if you assure me that my assistance is not needed for the disposition, I am ready to wait.”
- Your help, Porthos, is almost always needed, but not this time! - repeated the captain. - It would be madness to come to Cannes with you. I will reconnoiter the situation, and if possible, I will hire a ship. I will order it to pick us up far from prying eyes, and we will go to the island of Saint-Marguerite. There I will need your help very much, believe me! Perhaps we will have to shoot, fence, and also break down the doors and bars of the castle!
"That suits me!" cried the giant. "You have restored my good spirits!"
“Well then, settle down here with your spirit in the tavern and wait for me at midnight,” replied d’Artagnan, clapped his friend on the shoulders and left the tavern.

 LIX. What d'Artagnan managed to find out

At midnight, d'Artagnan returned to the inn with a man. He was extremely excited, but Porthos could not tell from his appearance whether the captain brought him pleasant or unpleasant news.
"Porthos, I have learned enough to formulate a further plan," said d'Artagnan to the Baron. "This man is called du Chante. He is Aramis's envoy."
"Aramis's messenger?" Porthos exclaimed joyfully. "Then he has escaped! Thank God!" the Baron continued to rejoice, then suddenly stopped short. "How do we know that we can trust him?"
“He produced this letter,” said the captain, handing Porthos a small piece of paper.
Porthos unfolded the sheet of paper and recognized his friend's calligraphic handwriting. The letter read:

"To the one from whom the letter was stolen at Menge. The bearer of this paper, Lieutenant du Chante, is my faithful agent. The one who dropped Marie Michon's handkerchief."

- Well, it's not a fake! - nodded Porthos. - Your hand, du Chante!
"Be careful, Porthos, don't break his wrist!" warned d'Artagnan. "Du Chante, tell me everything you told me."
"I saw the captain and recognized him, for I had seen him before and know him well," said du Chante. "I must warn you against Colbert's traps."
"Thank you, Lieutenant!" cried Porthos. "We have been warned, and now forward!"
"Calm down, Porthos!" d'Artagnan said softly. "Sit down and listen to the end. Lieutenant, I beg you, begin with something pleasant."
“I think, Baron, you will be pleased to know that your friends the Comte de la Fere and the Vicomte de Bragelonne are alive,” said du Chante.
- They are alive? - Porthos cried. - I don’t know how it happened, but I believe you! Let me embrace you!
"I won't allow it!" d'Artagnan objected decisively. "Porthos, your embraces threaten the lieutenant with mortal danger."
“In that case, I’ll just press you very tenderly to my chest,” agreed Porthos and, indeed, tried not to hug the lieutenant too tightly and only lightly patted him on the back.
"Tell us how it happened!" cried Porthos impatiently, after the lieutenant had straightened his shoulders and mentally thanked the captain for not allowing Porthos to embrace him with all his might.
“We were entrusted with the mission by Monseigneur,” he said. “During the sortie the Viscount was wounded and fell into a trench, from which we carried him out after the Turks had retreated, and our compatriots who had made the sortie returned to the fortress, taking with them two prisoners. It was like this. There were three of us, myself, Lieutenant d’Aunay, and Sub-Lieutenant de Trabu;on. We watched the sortie without interfering in it, as Monseigneur had ordered us. When the moon came out from behind the clouds, we saw the Duke of Beaufort bravely leading his small detachment into battle. On his left was the Count de Guiche, on his right the Viscount de Bragelonne. The Duke pierced one of the Turkish officers with his sword, who, dying, seized the sword by the hilt, tore it from the Duke’s hands, and fell into the trench. The Viscount at that moment struck another Turkish officer, snatched a short sword from his hand and armed himself with it, and quickly handed his sword to the Duke of Beaufort. The battle continued more and more furiously, the Duke was breaking through to the artilleryman, who was pointing his weapon at a small detachment of Frenchmen. If the cannon was loaded with grapeshot and if he managed to fire, it would be all over for the French. The Duke ran up to the artilleryman, snatched the torch from his hands and threw it towards the barrels of gunpowder standing behind the Turk. There was a deafening explosion. Unfortunately, the cannon flew forward and, dragging the Duke with it, half collapsed into the trench, where it crushed him to death. The Viscount was stunned by the explosion and also fell into the trench, but was only covered with earth. Almost immediately both sides retreated: the Turks, considering that the forces were too unequal, while the French, apparently, considered the sortie a success. They managed to destroy two cannons and collapse several mines. We immediately made our way into the trench and dug out the Viscount. He was unconscious, but alive and not even wounded. Following the instructions of Monseigneur, we poured into his mouth the sleeping draught with which he had supplied us, and instructed de Trabu;on to transport him to the mainland in one of the small launches.
"A truly remarkable rescue!" cried Porthos. "But the poor Duke de Beaufort! He died a hero!"
“I entirely share your opinion, Baron, but listen to what happened next,” continued du Chante. “Lieutenant d’Aunay and I, having in our hands documents from the King ordering us to make a special investigation and obliging all the officers to assist us, came to the fortress the next morning to carry out the second part of Monseigneur’s instructions. This was much simpler. Lieutenant d’Aunay mixed a sleeping draught into a bottle of wine and left this bottle in the Count’s room. I was afraid that this step would lead to nothing, since, as I knew, the Count did not drink wine at all. However, apparently, being in a state of despair at the news of the death of his son, the Count decided to break his vow of abstinence from wine. He, as it turned out, drank the whole bottle. Fortunately, the dose of sleeping pills had been carefully calculated, and this particular sleeping pill is practically harmless, so that although the Count was completely unconscious, so that even the doctor present at the commandant recognized him as a corpse, the Count remained alive. Lieutenant d'Aunay and I informed the commandant that the mission entrusted to us was to take the Count's corpse, which we did, transporting it to the mainland. On the way, I massaged the Count's arms and legs all the time, to ensure a flow of fresh blood to them. Then we transported the Count and his son to Scotland, to an estate called Mont...
"Monkville!" cried d'Artagnan. "A small house under the shade of trees on the banks of the River Clyde!"
“Yes, captain,” the lieutenant agreed. “How do you know?”
- This house belongs to me, and a year ago I had three additional sets of keys made for it. I put these keys in three envelopes, and wrote a letter in each.
“I remember!” nodded Porthos. “I received such a letter. It said: ‘Dear friend! I once rendered a small service to General Monk, which in no way harmed the interests of France. The General was so kind as to reward me with a present, which I will hardly be able to make use of. He said to me: ‘On the banks of the Clyde I have a little house under the shade of trees; we call it a cottage. The house has several hundred acres of land. Accept it from me!’ and he handed me the keys to the cottage. Whenever you happen to be in Scotland, you may dispose of this house as if it were your own. Yours affectionately, Charles Ogier de Batz de Castelmore, Count d’Artagnan.”
"I sent the same letter to Aramis and Athos," agreed d'Artagnan. "This means that my friends are alive and visiting me! I am almost happy!"
“I was wondering when you managed to become a count?” Porthos said.
“I’ll tell you about this little adventure that happened to me between our first long separation and our second meeting sometime later,” the captain smiled.
- Athos and Raoul are alive! I want to hug them! - Porthos burst into tears.
- Listen, Porthos! Even at the risk of breaking young Raoul's bones, I too passionately desire only this and nothing else! The devil take you! I drag you all over France, which is swarming with Colbert's bloodhounds, forgive me, Lieutenant, this does not apply to you and your friends, and I beg you to hide in England, Spain, Italy, or Portugal, the devil take it! Instead, you seek adventures with me, not realizing that at any moment you can be arrested, executed, quartered, hanged and burned! You break my heart, which has already suffered too much in the last month. If you do not immediately leave France with this dear lieutenant, I will challenge you to a duel this very hour and let you kill me! I am tired of persuading you to take a little more care of your life than I do, or at least as much.
“If I’m so boring to you that you don’t want to see me,” said Porthos.
"I wish to see you not so often and not in France," answered the captain, "and I wish to see you as long as possible in freedom, alive, fat and beautiful! I wish you well, my dear, and I care only for you!"
“The last time such exact words were spoken to me was by my mother, who forbade me to pull catfish out of the water with my bare hands,” Porthos sighed.
“And were these big catfish?” asked d’Artagnan.
"Not too big," Porthos replied with a sigh. "About thirty pounds."
"How old were you when you pulled thirty-pound catfish out of the hole?" the captain asked in surprise.
“Probably twelve or thirteen,” answered Porthos.
- Well, listen, Baron du Valon! - said d'Artagnan. - The time has come to tell this story of the catfish to the Count de la Fere and the Vicomte de Bragelonne. It brooks no delay. You set out for Scotland to-morrow, accompanied by the amiable Lieutenant du Chante! Or I cannot answer for myself.
"That is in accordance with the spirit of the orders we received from Monseigneur," agreed du Chante. "He gave orders for you to be brought there, Captain, and there was no word about the Baron, because..."
“Because Monseigneur understood that the Baron would go with me,” d’Artagnan hastened to intervene.
“Monseigneur assumed that the Baron…” continued du Chante.
“His assumptions were overly pessimistic,” the captain nodded.
“Exactly so, captain!” agreed du Chante.
“I have some minor matters to settle in Paris, after which I will join you, Baron, the Count and the Viscount, where, I hope, we will have the good fortune to see Monseigneur as well!”
"All four together again!" cried Porthos.
- And even five. By the way, Porthos, have you ever thought of having a son? - smiled d'Artagnan. - In Scotland we will certainly marry you off!
“God be with you, d’Artagnan, always your jokes,” Porthos smiled.
- Du Shante, he agrees, go! - the captain summed up the conversation.
“Excuse me, but we were going to… Saint-Marguerite Island, have you forgotten?” asked Porthos, remembering.
- I forget nothing, Porthos, but it is impossible now. Colbert's spies are swarming in Nantes. We will simply be seized. I will accompany you to Marseilles and see that you board a ship. I must be sure that you sail, Porthos! As long as you are in France, my heart is not in the right place. Besides, Porthos, I have a very delicate mission for you.
“You find me a suitable person for delicate assignments?” Porthos was surprised.
“I know what a magnificent and delicate service you rendered Raoul in resolving his questions with Monsieur de Saint-Etienne concerning his move, the staircase and the portrait,” said the captain.
- Ah, that! - exclaimed the Baron. - In matters of this kind I have an abyss of delicacy. Whom must I challenge to a duel this time?
"A challenge, but not to a duel, my friend!" d'Artagnan replied softly. " There is a lady-in-waiting or something of the sort at the court of King Charles II, a certain Miss Mary Grefton."
“Let’s assume so,” Porthos smiled, twirling his mustache.
“This girl, it seems to me, is much more worthy of the love of our dear Raoul than Mademoiselle Louise de La Valli;re.
"I have no doubt of it, if you think so!" the Baron agreed. "I will tell you in all honesty that since Mademoiselle de La Valli;re, as I have learned, is no longer a mademoiselle, and perhaps will soon not even be de La Valli;re at all, then it is high time for dear Raoul to forget about such mademoiselles, to throw her out of his head. They say she is pregnant.
- Porthos! Where do you manage to get this information? - d'Artagnan was surprised.
"I sometimes take a close look at the wives of innkeepers and other peasant women, and sometimes, out of boredom, I listen to what they gossip about," answered Porthos. "Mostly it's all sorts of nonsense, but sometimes you learn the funniest stories."
"Well then, consider that the wife of an innkeeper informed me that our Raoul would not have remained indifferent to the merits of the said Miss Mary Grefton, if the head and heart of the young man had not been occupied with Mademoiselle de La Valli;re, who was unworthy of his love. As for the said Miss Mary Grefton, I repeat this name so that you remember it well, this same Miss Mary Grefton by no means remained indifferent to the merits of young Raoul. Do me a favor, Porthos, invite in my name the said Miss, of course not alone, but with such an accompaniment that will make her visit completely social and will not cast any shadow on her, to my excellent house, which is located on the banks of the Clyde in Scotland.
"And does not this Miss Mary Grafton have an aunt, preferably a widow, not older than, say, thirty-five or thirty-eight years old?" asked Porthos.
- Find out on the spot, dear Porthos! I entrust you with this most important task. And secret! - exclaimed d'Artagnan and clapped Porthos on the shoulder.
- Hm, hm! - exclaimed Porthos, twirling his moustache. - This secret mission I believe I can carry out with the utmost delicacy!
- Be sure to invite your aunt, Porthos! - the captain burst out laughing. - Or even two! Remember: nothing should cast a shadow on the decency of Miss Mary Grafton! Two or three aunts are the best protection for her morality and purity!
“Well, auntie, that’s clear,” agreed Porthos. “Or two. Or three.”
- But no more! - clarified d'Artagnan. - Otherwise Athos will leave us. Remember that he is not a lover of the female sex!
"Not a fan?" Porthos smiled. "Then where did he get his son?"
- To hell with it, Porthos! You can't be fooled! - the captain admired the baron's resourcefulness and pushed Porthos hard in the shoulder, which only made him sway slightly.
After this, the friends laughed loudly and joyfully.
- D'Artagnan, answer me one question, - Porthos whispered. - That war you declared, well, with that very word, castling, is it already cancelled? After all, Athos and Raoul are alive!
- My dear Porthos, this war has not been declared by me, but by me, or rather by all of us, - answered d'Artagnan. - I have been challenged, I have accepted it, and the duel must take place. Besides, only the lives of my friends have been saved, but their honor is in grave danger. And I will fight for the honor of my friends no less fiercely than for their lives. Oh, and by the way, my honor is also at stake! This small circumstance doubles my zeal.
"Well, you are right as always, d'Artagnan," said Porthos. "I wish you good luck and would like to join you, but if you say that I will only be a hindrance to your cause, I will depart with great regret for this damned wet foggy gray gloomy England in the hope that there is at least a small patch of sunny clearing there, and your home is located there."
"As the house is in Scotland, your hopes, Porthos, have a chance of being justified. Bon voyage!" replied d'Artagnan and allowed Porthos to embrace him very gently.

 LX. South Coast

Meanwhile, de Lortie, d'Elsorte, the innkeeper and his three grooms lay tied up on the floor of the inn. Bazin had poured two bottles of Anjou into each of them, and had hung a sign on the door of the inn saying "Closed." None of the grooms objected to this method of dealing with them; the innkeeper's resistance was only for show, and the resistance of de Lortie and d'Elsorte, although more determined, did not prevent Bazin from carrying out Aramis's orders. So all five snored senseless for the next five hours. They would have slept longer, but the innkeeper's wife, returning from the market, considered this outrageous and doused first the grooms and then her dear husband with a bucket of water.
Having come to his senses, the innkeeper hastened to wake up the two guards, although in a more delicate, but no less effective way: he grabbed each of them in turn by the shoulders and shook them until he woke them up. The two spies barely came to their senses, hurried to somehow put themselves in order and set off in pursuit of Aramis, who, however, by this time had galloped far enough away to not be afraid of their pursuit.
Aramis, together with Bazin, hurried to Cannes, where he was met at the appointed place, in the Burgundy Sunset tavern, by the second lieutenant de Trabu;on.
" Are there many of Colbert's spies here?" Aramis asked de Trabu;on in a businesslike tone.
“Not less than two hundred officers,” answered the lieutenant, “and hundreds of times more soldiers.”
"Well, that's a difficulty," said Aramis. "Have the two launches been prepared? Are they fast enough? How many soldiers have you got?"
"We have twenty men under our command," replied de Trabu;on. "Two launches await you, monseigneur, as ordered on the eastern shore of the Pointe Croisette peninsula. The weapons, bullets and gunpowder have been prepared and loaded into the launches.
"Well, we'll put to sea tonight," Aramis ordered. "Where is Lieutenant d'Aunay at the moment?"
“He’s next to the barges, directing the soldiers,” answered de Trabu;on.
"We're leaving tonight," said Aramis. "Bazin, you know where to wait for us."
Bazin nodded.
"Let's go," said Aramis, "it's already getting dark. When we get there, it will be the best time to sail."
After these words, Aramis and de Trabu;on galloped towards the Pointe Croisette peninsula. When the travelers reached the shore, where two launches were waiting for them, it was already quite dark. De Trabu;on whistled twice, after which a man detached himself from one of the launches and headed towards them. It was Lieutenant d'Aunay. Having greeted the arrivals, he announced that both launches were ready to sail.
"Monseigneur," de Trabu;on said to Aramis, "there are still many of Colbert's spies in the city and its environs. If we return from the expedition to the island with what you wish to go there for, we may run into an ambush here on this coast. I propose that one of us remain here, and if there is no danger, the one who remains here will light a small fire and be able to give us a sign, for example, by blocking the fire from the sea with his cloak several times in a row. If no such sign is given, then an ambush awaits us on the shore.
"That's reasonable," agreed Aramis. "Which of the two will remain, you or Lieutenant d'Aunay?"
“We will cast lots,” replied de Trabu;on.
He picked up a small stick from the ground, broke it into two unequal parts and held the pieces in his hand so that only two identical ends were visible.
"Pull, Lieutenant," he said. "Whoever gets the long stick stays on the shore."
The lieutenant, without thinking, pulled out one of the sticks.
"You have drawn a long one, Lieutenant," said de Trabu;on, throwing his stick on the sand. "You remain."
“Okay,” the lieutenant replied and headed inland, where he disappeared into the shadows of the trees.
“Get into the launch, Monseigneur,” said de Trabu;on, “I will only give some instructions to the soldiers in the other launch.”
He approached the second barge, which was standing at some distance, talked about something with the soldiers, after which he returned to Aramis and said:
- The soldiers said that that launch was faster and more reliable. Go to that launch, Monsignor, I will instruct the soldiers in this launch and join you.
Soon both barges cast off from the shore and went out to sea.
When both boats had sailed half a musket shot from the shore, de Trabu;on said to Aramis:
- Monsignor, now the soldiers will set the sail, and we will sail faster, but for now you can rest.
As soon as he said the word "rest," six soldiers fell upon Aramis, seizing him by the arms and legs. Four others pointed their muskets at him. The second launch also bristled with guns, all aimed at Aramis.
- Monseigneur, you are my prisoner, - he said with a smile. - I advise you not to resist. Lieutenant d'Aunay is left on the shore, and no one will help you. The soldiers have received orders to shoot at any attempt to resist, as well as at any attempt on your part to say even a word or make even a gesture. Not a single word, not a single gesture, not a single movement of even a finger, or you will be shot immediately. I hope you understand me.
After this, de Trabu;on addressed the soldiers:
- Tie him up, gag him, and put a sack over his head! We'll ride a little way west along the coast and land where I'll point. A reliable army awaits us, and you, my friends, will be rewarded for your faithful service to the King!
The soldiers gave a short cry of "Vivat le King" and the boat carried Aramis in the direction opposite to where he was going.

LXI. King Louis XIV

On his way to the King, d'Artagnan did not meet Colbert and decided that this was a good sign. In addition, he did not have to wait long in the antechamber for his hour, the King agreed to receive him almost immediately after his arrival was announced.
Therefore, the captain entered Louis's office in an elevated mood, but as soon as he crossed the threshold, he realized that such a mood did not fit in with the news that he had to bring to the King.
Louis XIV slowly turned his head towards the captain who had entered and extended his hand to kiss. On d'Artagnan's face he saw only traces of the deepest sorrow, which the captain was trying in vain to suppress in order to show his loyal feelings. This pleased the King, so he graciously allowed the captain to sit down.
"You have returned before the appointed time, d'Artagnan," he said. "Does this mean that you have already fully accomplished the task entrusted to you, or have you come to inform me of the impossibility of its completion?"
"I have completed three-quarters of the task entrusted to me in half the time allotted to me, Your Majesty," replied the captain, bowing, "and therefore I ask Your Majesty's permission to spend the remaining time to complete the remaining quarter of the task, for which I will need a passport signed by a person no lower than a Marshal of France. Without such a passport, as I have ascertained, it is impossible to go by ship abroad, where the Bishop of Vannes is currently residing. As for the rest of the people, in relation to the order received from you, they will no longer cause any trouble to Your Majesty.
With these words, and with an expression of the greatest sorrow on his face, d'Artagnan drew from a large pocket on the inside of his jacket three death certificates, stating that the Baron du Valon had died in the cave of Locmaria on the island of Belle- Ile, that the Viscount Raoul de Bragelonne had died during a sortie from the fortress of Candia on the island of Crete, and that the Count de La F;re had died in his bed in the same fortress from an excess of sleeping pills taken with wine at his own request. The first document was certified by the notary of Pierrefonds, Master Gortier, the other two by the commandant of the fortress, Grimaldi.
The king carefully examined all three documents and then asked:
- How much did these three documents, which look so real, cost you, captain?
“They cost me ten years of my life, if not more, Your Majesty,” replied d’Artagnan.
"Do you mean to say that the desire to obtain the marshal's baton overcame your feelings of friendship, and for this reason you took the necessary steps to ensure that these documents were not an empty forgery, but corresponded to the true state of affairs?" the King asked incredulously.
"I wish to say, Your Majesty," said d'Artagnan, rising from his chair and kneeling before the King, "that I would not lift a finger to obtain the marshal's baton, not only at the price you mention, but even if it were only for me to shoot an apple from a tree with a musket shot at ten paces. I do not desire this office or this baton, and I will ask for my resignation after the final execution of all the points of the order, but I have carried out your order in so far as it was in my power to do so, since, being in Your Majesty's service, I was obliged to do so, and also since I have tried to do everything possible to ensure that the good name of the gentlemen mentioned in these documents is not subjected to disgrace and persecution out of respect for the physical condition in which they now find themselves. Human judgment has no power over them, and I hope that God's judgment will be just. And I hope that the royal court will be merciful to their memory and respectful of their honour.
- Well, captain, I see that you have finally realized that in France there is no other will than the will of the King of France, my will! And that the fulfillment of my will is the sacred duty of all subjects of this state. Have you realized that the state is me, that France and Louis XIV are synonyms?
“I see, Your Majesty, that you are quite right,” replied d’Artagnan. “The policy of France is the policy of Your Majesty, and the wishes of Your Majesty are the orders of all France.”
“By my will, those who obey me acquire positions and wealth, and those who oppose me lose both, and sometimes their freedom and even their lives!” Louis said quietly in such a tone that d’Artagnan felt goosebumps run down his spine. “The people who encroached on me had to die, and they will die, every single one of them. Those who tried to take Mademoiselle from me with their vile intrigues also got their comeuppance. Everything I touch becomes sacred for all of France and will probably soon become sacred for all of Europe. If I cast a glance at a young lady in my kingdom, that lady belongs to me and me alone. That lady can no longer have a fianc; or a friend!” Louis’s face was distorted with anger at these words. “I hope that the Vicomte de Bragelonne realized this before he perished!” A man who has decided that he can refuse to give something or someone to his King must consider it an honor to be able to give his life in battle for his King, for if fate had not dealt with him in this way, he would have given his life in agony here in Paris!
D'Artagnan bowed his head low so that the King would not see the lightning that flashed in his eyes at these words.
“You are a faithful servant and a fine soldier, Captain,” continued the King. “I see no reason why you should refuse the rank you deserve. I have already ordered the baton of a Marshal of France to be made for you, and you may look at it; but you yourself have confessed that one task remains undone. I will myself write you a pass for a journey abroad by sea or land. You will have all the help you need from the army and navy, and this time you will not be assigned officers whose duty it will be to protect you from mistakes. Do you see how much confidence I have in you? But I will give you this letter tomorrow; today I permit you to rest from your labors. The twenty-four hours you lose in rest will not count against the thirty days I have given you to carry out my orders.” You will come to me tomorrow at exactly noon, receive all the necessary powers and documents confirming them, and upon your return, if successful, this awaits you,” with these words the King pointed to the box on his desk, in which, obviously, lay the baton of the Marshal of France.
In order that d'Artagnan should have no more doubts about the contents of the box, the King deigned to open the box himself and show him its contents. It did indeed contain a marshal's baton, decorated with precious stones, but d'Artagnan did not see this, since with poorly concealed contempt for this symbol of military valor and power he stood up, bowed his head, indicating a bow, and left without even looking at the box.

At the very moment when d'Artagnan was descending the stairs of the Palais Royal and wondering how and where to spend the unexpectedly fallen day intended for rest, the King rang the bell and briefly said to the footman who had come to see him:
- Colbert to me.
He said to Colbert, who appeared almost immediately, without even having time to offer him a seat:
— Monsieur Colbert! Captain d'Artagnan has returned to me with papers stating that three of the four state criminals are dead. Here are the papers. I do not believe them. Establish even more careful surveillance of the captain, but such that he will not suspect it. No guards. These must be ordinary citizens. Do you understand me, Colbert? Not guards in uniform, and not guards dressed as ordinary citizens. These must be the most ordinary citizens, of all ages and sexes, people no different from those Parisians you usually see on the street, including even ordinary street urchins.
“It is already done, Your Majesty!” Colbert replied with a bow.
- Really? - the King was surprised and delighted. - Well, go and don't miss him this time.
As Colbert left the King's office and turned away for the moment it took him to open the doors, the admiration in Louis's gaze disappeared and hatred appeared.
"This man anticipates all my desires," he thought. "This is very convenient while I am fighting obvious enemies, but it will be very inconvenient when all obvious enemies are defeated and I am left surrounded by invisible enemies! What else do I not know about this man, and what else does he know about me that I do not suspect? Perhaps my brother's secret is also known to him?"
He wanted to stop Colbert and tell him that after solving all the problems with the captain and his friends, he would relieve Colbert of police duties and leave them only with financial responsibilities, but he immediately realized that he should never tell his subjects about his plans for them.
"Everyone should learn their fate when nothing can be changed," he thought. "And no one should ever be sure that their high position today will be preserved tomorrow. This will not allow them to relax and will force them to dig the earth to prove their loyalty to me every day and every hour. And the absence of such proof will serve as proof of disloyalty! Too many have deceived me in this state for too long, I will not allow them to do this anymore."
Here he remembered Mademoiselle de La Valli;re. During the time that had passed, they had managed to make peace, and it had even become clear that she was expecting a child.
"The children of La Valli;re will be the children of the King and no one, not even my wife, will ever dare to offend them or their mother. Only my wishes and my will should be the law for France."
After that, he remembered the phrase he had said to the captain. He liked it so much that he even decided to write it down. He went to the writing table, took a clean sheet of paper, dipped his pen in ink, and wrote: “The state is me,” after which he put his ornate signature at the bottom.
Pleased with himself, he went to the window and looked at the sky, in which the bright Sun was shining.
"Just as there is no one equal to the Sun in the sky, there should be no one equal to me in France!" he thought, and then felt a strange fear. "Philippe!" he suddenly thought with horror. "Pignerol is not so far away that I can stop fearing a possible repetition of that terrible day that I would like to forget, but cannot! Well, I will deal with this problem too."
 
The King ate almost nothing at dinner. It seemed to him that time was passing too quickly, and the events he was expecting were, for some reason, in no hurry to happen.
When dessert was served, he saw Colbert at the door, who bowed his head respectfully, but did not take his eyes off the King's face.
Louis pretended to ask a question by raising his face upward and pointing his pointed beard at Colbert, to which Colbert responded with a second bow, lowering his eyes to the floor. After this, the King gave Colbert a benevolent smile and decided to make up for all the food he had not eaten during the preliminary part of the meal at dessert.
"The King is craving something sweet," the Queen Mother whispered to her daughter-in-law. "Don't miss your chance! Perhaps he will visit you tonight instead of this..."
“The Queen is very kind to me,” replied Maria Theresa.
"Don't be upset, my dear," whispered Anne of Austria. "No matter how many bastards your ladies-in-waiting may produce, only your son will be the King of France. Even if he is not the son of the King of France." This joke has been passed on by queen mothers to their daughters-in-law for over a hundred years. At one time it amused and calmed me very much.
After this, Anna kissed her daughter-in-law on the cheek and lightly pinched her left hand.
Maria Theresa had no choice but to pretend that she did not understand at all what was being discussed.
As soon as dinner was over, the King hurried to his office.
“Mr. Colbert...” the footman barely managed to say.
- Yes! Ask! - Louis answered impatiently.
As soon as Colbert entered the room with his soft tread, Louis asked impatiently:
- Did you take it?!
- Yes, Your Majesty. They took it and brought it here.
"Did he try to say anything? Make any gestures?" the King asked warily.
“From the very beginning, he was deprived of this opportunity, in accordance with Your Majesty’s instructions,” replied Colbert.
“That’s very good, Monsieur Colbert, I’m pleased with you,” said the King, rubbing his hands. “Where is he? Bring him in.”
“Our people tied his hands and feet, and I would not recommend untying them…” Colbert said.
" Then bring it in!" the King cried impatiently.
“Here, to your chambers?” Colbert asked.
- Why not? - the King was surprised. - However, this is really inconvenient, - he said after some thought. Take him to the Bastille. Tomorrow I will talk to him there. Prepare a cell in which two steel rings should be built into the wall at opposite walls. He should be chained by the feet to one of them, give him food and drink, I do not want him to die of hunger or thirst prematurely. Everything has its time.
And prepare two thick bags and additional shackles. That's all.

LXII. The King Visits the Bastille

Exactly at noon, d'Artagnan appeared before the King.
"Get the order you wanted, Captain, and you can set out to capture the Bishop of Vannes," the King told him, handing him a document with his signature. "Read, is everything in this document written down as you wanted for the success of the operation ahead of you?"
“Everything is exactly as required, Your Majesty,” the captain replied, having read the document.
“Then go, I won’t keep you any longer!” the King replied and dismissed d’Artagnan with a gesture of his right hand.
The captain headed for the exit, but as soon as he took hold of the door handle, the King exclaimed:
- But wait a minute! An idea has occurred to me. Before you set out to search, we will go to Fouquet and ask him a few questions to help you find the bishop. He will be able to shed some light on where the Bishop of Vannes might first go.
“It is doubtful that Monsieur Fouquet will be able to clarify anything for us,” the captain shrugged. “However, if Your Majesty considers it necessary…”
"You forget that it was Fouquet who told me that the Bishop of Vannes, together with Baron du Valon, had gone to the fortress of Belle-Ile. His information was extremely accurate. We will try to find out from him additional information about the places where the Bishop might take refuge.
"Why should Your Majesty trouble himself?" asked d'Artagnan. "I can go and ask him these questions myself, I only need an order for interrogation."
- You ask me for one paper after another, Captain, - said the King with a laugh, - one would think that you are collecting my orders! Meanwhile, all the others ask me only for higher positions and more money. As for money, these requests come with enviable regularity even from all the members of my family!
"My salary, which Your Majesty has deigned to assign me, is sufficient for me," replied d'Artagnan with dignity. "No one will refuse an addition, but I do not ask for what is undeserved. I do not aspire to a higher position, as I had the honor to inform Your Majesty yesterday, for I occupy the position once occupied by Monsieur de Treville, and I do not in any way consider myself a more worthy man than he. Papers with Your Majesty's signature are necessary to me only for the execution of Your Majesty's orders.
“Okay, okay,” smiled the King. “Let’s go. The carriage is ready. I want to see Fouquet myself and talk to him. There are still a few questions I’d like answers to.”
“I will arrange for the protection of Your Majesty,” the captain hastened to say.
“I’ve already taken care of everything, Captain!” the King replied softly. “Let’s go.”
- But my musketeers...
"Your musketeers are on exercise today under the direction of Senior Lieutenant d'Arlencourt, your deputy," the King replied. "The guards will suffice."
“But such a clear breach of subordination and etiquette, Your Majesty,” said the captain.
“We are going unofficially,” Louis smiled. “Therefore, we don’t need official protection. It is not necessary to announce to all of Paris that the King is going to the Bastille to visit one of the prisoners. Let’s go.”
The captain bowed and left the chambers, following the King slightly behind and to the right.
When d'Artagnan saw that twenty guards were waiting at the carriage, his heart began to beat uneasily, but the King said to him carelessly:
- Take command of my guards, captain!
After these words, d'Artagnan ran up to the carriage and opened its door for the King. As soon as the King had climbed into the carriage, the captain closed the door and jumped on his horse, which was immediately brought to him.
"The King's Guard!" he shouted the usual command. "Ten men with me in front of the carriage, the rest behind the carriage! To the Bastille!"
And the cavalcade headed to the Bastille to meet with Monsieur Fouquet.

When the carriage arrived at the Bastille, the King said to the captain:
- Let's leave the carriage and the guards here at the gate. I don't want Monsieur de Besmo to know who's visiting him. I'll put on a mask.
“In that case, they won’t let us into the Bastille!” the captain was surprised.
“You forget, Captain, that the King can always have a corresponding order signed by the King!” Louis objected softly and pulled out a sheet of paper folded in four from the lapel of his sleeve.
Having shown the paper to the guard in such a way that d'Artagnan had no opportunity to read it, the King, taking the captain by the arm, entered the gate that opened before him, after which this strange couple went up to the room of Monsieur de Bezmo.
Without removing his mask, the King placed the order before de Bezmo.
The commandant unfolded it, read it, then bowed low and, taking a bunch of keys, led his guests down the prison corridor.
"Go, my dear fellow, we'll catch up with you!" said the King to Commandant de Bezmo, after which he quietly turned to d'Artagnan. "Captain, I wouldn't like you to know which cell Monsieur Fouquet is in, so allow me to blindfold you."
The captain bowed his head respectfully, the King took a blindfold from his pocket and blindfolded d'Artagnan with his own hands.
“Your Majesty, I do not see where I should go,” replied d’Artagnan, suspecting something was wrong.
- It's nothing, there's not much further to go, - answered Louis, - hold my hand and listen to my instructions. There are two steps down here. Bend your head so as not to hit yourself. Excellent, now turn right. Now this way. Sit down, don't be afraid.
D'Artagnan sat down on the terribly cold bench.
"One more small formality, Captain. Commandant, please!" said the King, after which d'Artagnan felt a fuss at his feet and heard two distinct clicks.
“Thank you, Commandant. We will call you,” said the King.
As soon as the entrance door of the cell closed, Louis said:
- That's it, Captain, now you can take off your mask!
He spoke these words from some distance.
D'Artagnan removed the bandage from his eyes and saw that he was sitting in a spacious cell on a stone bench, with his feet fastened with iron chains to the foot of this bench, so that he could stand up or lie down, but could not move more than half a step away from it. At the opposite wall, at a distance of six full steps, on exactly the same bench sat another man, with this difference, that not only his feet, but also his hands were encircled by the same fetters, and on his head he wore a leather bag.
“This is not Monsieur Fouquet,” said d’Artagnan.
"You think so? Really?" exclaimed the King with feigned surprise, removing the mask he had been wearing to avoid being recognized by the commandant. "Well, let's see who it could be."
He grabbed the leather bag with two fingers and pulled it upward. To his horror, d'Artagnan saw Aramis with a gag in his mouth and a tight bandage around the lower part of his face.
“We will free the Bishop from these inconvenient objects,” said the King, smiling, after which he carefully untied the bandage and pulled the gag out of Aramis’s mouth.
“Damn it, Aramis, you…” d’Artagnan said in a voice full of despair.
"D'Artagnan, you seem not to be glad to see me," said Aramis sadly. "Forgive me, my dear friend, the place is really not suitable for meetings, but this is not happening by my will, as you see."
"Shut up, you two scoundrels!" the King shouted, losing control of his emotions. "Did you think you could deceive me forever? No luck! I've figured you out!"
“In that case, Aramis, we will probably have to spend the rest of our days here,” d’Artagnan said calmly, “However, I do not think we will be allowed to grow old in peace.”
"Old age is terrible!" Aramis replied. "I have a good chance to avoid old age."
"You have a great chance to die here in front of each other, watching each other suffer and suffering from the fact that you cannot help each other," Louis answered angrily. "Try to do something to prevent this!"
“Your Majesty’s will is stated clearly enough, and we dare not oppose it,” d’Artagnan answered calmly.
“And your orders, as always, are carried out clearly and quickly,” added Aramis. “After all, in France, Your Majesty is always at home.”
“Especially here,” agreed d’Artagnan, for which he received a look full of hatred from the King.
“Enough of this buffoonery!” cried the King. “No one will help you here! Do you see this little finger on your left hand?” the King said to Aramis, showing his left palm. “You dared to wound me when you kidnapped me from the house of that vile traitor Fouquet! You dared to shed royal blood! On my royal hand, by your grace, there remains a mark, reminding me that several of my subjects dared to raise their hand against their King! Even when you are gone, and your ashes are trampled upon by the townspeople in the suburbs of Paris, this cruel wound will remind me of my humiliation! At moments when I asked myself whether I was not too cruel to my enemies, the enemies of France, the conspirators who encroached on my freedom, I looked at this wound and remembered that the conspirators dared to shed royal blood!” And I told myself that I would not spare anyone who was involved in this crime!
"You received this wound by accident, Your Majesty," replied Aramis, "and I deeply regret that I was so clumsy as to scratch your hand and spill a few drops of royal blood. But that is all."
"You scoundrel!" cried the King. "You have the impudence to tell me that you have not repented of your villainous crime!"
“I repented of it under the influence of a conversation with Fouquet, Your Majesty, but under the influence of a conversation with you I realized that I was right,” answered Aramis.
"Silence, Aramis, silence! " cried d'Artagnan. "Let the King speak, perhaps he will want to hear our explanations."
- Your explanations?! - cried the King. - Do you think that some explanations will help you save your miserable lives?!
“We need them, first of all, to express what has accumulated within us,” d’Artagnan answered with dignity. “A minute ago I thought that perhaps they would be useful to you, Your Majesty, but now I don’t think so.”
“Very well!” replied the King, calming down. “I, too, do not wish to give you any explanations. You will be left here to die before each other’s eyes. You will be given drink, but no food. Moreover, you will not be allowed to sleep. Thus, in a few days your torment will end. But all this time, each of you will watch the other’s fading. This is my answer to the violence you have committed against me, Bishop, and to the disobedience you have shown me, Captain. I am leaving to leave instructions on this matter.”
With these words, the King put on his mask and opened the doors of the chamber.
"Monsieur de Besmo! I beg you, come here!" cried the King, and the prisoners heard the familiar gait of the Commandant of the Bastille, who was heading towards the prison cell, his hobnailed boots tapping out his rhythmic, confident steps.

LXIII. Exit

As soon as Bezmo approached the door of the cell, d'Artagnan shouted at the top of his lungs:
- Grab Marchiali! What are you looking at? General de Bezmo, arrest the criminal Marchiali immediately!
Aramis immediately understood d'Artagnan's plan and added his voice to his cries.
- De Bezmo, what are you looking at? Your prisoner has escaped! Arrest the scoundrel Marchiali immediately!
The bewildered commandant did not know whom to listen to, and began to look at the King with suspicion. By those facial features, by his figure and by other signs, including the usual mask on his face, he began to vaguely recognize his recent prisoner. The only thing that bothered him was that this prisoner was no longer under his jurisdiction, so he was not sure that he should arrest him.
- Fran;ois de Montlezen! Marquis de Besmo! General! - d'Artagnan said in a confident voice. - Hurry! I tell you: the prisoner escaped when I was taking him to a new place! Seize him immediately! The King will reward your loyalty! You remember that your obedience has already been noted in one of my reports!
Here Louis felt his freedom threatened and made an unpardonable mistake, for he began to do what seemed to him quite natural, namely, he shouted:
- Don't you dare come near me! I am the King of France, Louis XIV! I will have you all executed! Don't you dare touch me!
This was precisely what he should not have done, for de Besmo immediately recognized his recent prisoner, who was Louis. Not only did he shout in exactly the same voice, but he shouted exactly the same words, and made the same threatening gestures, threatened the same punishments. This was undoubtedly the same man who had recently been raging in one of the cells of the Bastille, there could be no doubt about it.
"That's it, my friend!" muttered de Bezmo, fully convinced of the rightness of d'Artagnan and Aramis. "Come on, give me your hands!"
With these words he quickly and decisively tied Louis's hands, who had not expected such a sudden change in his fate and had no strength to resist. Continuing to hold the King's hands with one hand, de Besmo opened the next cell and roughly pushed the King into it. After this he went to d'Artagnan and Aramis and freed them from their shackles in turn.
"You are a wonderful man, de Bezmo, and the most devoted servant of the King!" exclaimed Aramis.
- How did you end up in this cell? - the commandant was surprised. - After all, this scoundrel showed me the King's order for your arrest! Otherwise, I would have recognized him under this mask.
"You are mistaken, General," replied d'Artagnan. "The order was for the arrest of him, the criminal Marchiali! That clever pickpocket stole the order from me and deceived us all, but that is all over now. Remember what the order said?"
— It said there that the bearer of this document had an order from the King to deliver a prisoner to the Bastille and leave him there, and the commandant was ordered to strictly observe secrecy and fulfill all the demands of the person who presented this order.
- That's exactly what I'm talking about! - agreed the captain. - I had this order in my pocket, we, as you remember, went into your casemate in a very friendly manner, since I did not want to disturb you unnecessarily, and the prisoner promised to behave quietly. But it turned out that the scoundrel stole the order from me and managed to show it to you while I was distracted by this magnificent porcelain figurine, - said d'Artagnan and pointed to a very frivolous candlestick standing on the commandant's table.
- Ah, this... - answered de Bezmo, whose face turned crimson with shame. - My colleagues gave it to me for my anniversary, but you see, I'm married. I didn't dare keep such a candlestick at home, so I brought it here. And I'll just use it as a candlestick, nothing more.
De Bezmo took out his handkerchief, wiped the sweat from his forehead and neck, and looked intently at Aramis.
- But yesterday you...
"This is a real work of art!" exclaimed Aramis, seizing de Bezmo by the sleeve and literally holding the obscene candlestick to his nose. "Look how accurately the individual details of the figures of the three Graces are rendered! Down to the smallest details! Magnificent!"
- What are you saying, what are you saying, I don’t even look at them! - lied de Bezmo, blushing even more. - Ugh, what were we talking about?
- We praised your determination and your heroism, General! - said d'Artagnan. - How cleverly you seized him! After all, he is not himself, and madmen like him sometimes possess monstrous strength. He could easily have killed you, General! You single-handedly defeated such a dangerous criminal! I will write to the King at once. Where is your paper, pen, ink? Ah, here they are, I see! Do you know what, General? I cannot objectively describe your exploits to the King while you stand here before me, a living hero, a titan, a giant! But a report to the King must be written in cold, dry language, the King does not like epithets.
“Perhaps you will write it later?” asked Bezmo.
— Absolutely impossible, General, for the scoundrel criminal escaped on the way to the fortress of Pignerol, so I will take him there immediately, but under more careful supervision. My escort has been increased, as you can see if you look outside the fortress gates. By the way! Do me a favor, go down and tell the carriage to drive into the courtyard of the fortress. You understand that it would be imprudent to take such a criminal outside the fortress. I will put him in the carriage in handcuffs and a mask, after which we will set off.
“Should I lead the guards into the fortress courtyard?” Bezmo asked.
"Sixteen men inside," replied d'Artagnan. "Four on the strongest stallions should wait outside the gate."
Bezmo nodded and left, after which Aramis looked at the captain in surprise.
"You want to take him away from the Bastille?" he asked. "Fate itself placed him here, and you want to let him out, risking that he will reign again and destroy us all?"
- This is no time to argue, Aramis. Without him we will not leave the Bastille. Twenty guards await us who know that they have brought the King here. How will you explain to them that you have left the King in the Bastille and are leaving? Then we really will not leave here, and then we will really be imprisoned here forever, or, most likely, executed.
“You are right, d’Artagnan,” nodded Aramis. “What do we do then?”
"We're going back to the King," said the captain. He bolted the door through which de Bezmo had descended into the courtyard, and grabbed a bunch of keys and a stack of blank sheets of paper from the table.
“Take the inkwell and the pen and let’s go to the King, quickly, catch up,” he said and rushed into the corridors of the casemate.

The king stopped screaming and beating at the walls of his new cell. He remembered from past experience that it was useless, he was afraid that this time his imprisonment was final, he became hysterical. Hearing a scuffle at the door and the sound of a key turning in the lock, he decided that this time he would certainly be killed.

"Your Majesty, we have come to prove to you once again that we are not enemies of Your Majesty and do not wish your death," he said to the King through the barely open door. "We only want to remain free and live our lives in such a way that we can peacefully grow old somewhere in the countryside, far from the court and its intrigues."
“I don’t believe a single word you say,” snapped the King, who understood that they wouldn’t kill him, but didn’t understand what these two, in whose complete power he found himself, wanted from him, and who was so stupid that he had previously made both of them his irreconcilable enemies.
“Your Majesty, we will set you free and you will return to the throne, but I have one small condition,” said the captain.
- Scoundrels! You dare to make conditions to me? To me, the King of France? - exclaimed the King.
“Bishop, you were right, the conversation is useless, we are leaving,” d’Artagnan said sharply and slammed the door.
- Wait! - the King cried out in horror. - What are your conditions? I agree!
"Your Majesty, our conditions are not onerous," replied d'Artagnan. "Here on this sheet of paper, folded like an envelope, you will write in your own hand "Urgent order of the King" and put your signature."
"You demand a blank form from me?" the King was horrified. "But you can write anything you want on it!"
“Anything written on the inside of this sheet will not be written in your handwriting and will not have your signature at the bottom, so such ‘anything’ will only expose the author of such a document as a forgery,” the captain replied.
“Then what do you need this envelope for?” asked the King.
"The Bishop of Vannes has noticed that the climate of France has become harmful to his health, so he is in a hurry to leave for Spain, or for any other country to which His Highness may wish to sail. This envelope will help him to board a ship to depart in the direction he has chosen," said d'Artagnan. "I have noticed that Your Majesty is also bored with His Highness's stay in Your Kingdom. France is too small for you two. Therefore, the departure of the Bishop will only improve Your Majesty's mood."
“I shall be in constant danger,” said the King anxiously.
“Not to any greater extent than you are in it now,” the captain answered calmly.
“And I can’t do anything about it,” Louis said sadly.
“I very much count on it,” agreed Aramis.
“Well, let’s say so,” the King nodded. “What else?”
" Aramis, give me ink and a pen. I beg you, Your Majesty," said the captain.
“I have written it,” said the King, handing over the requested paper. “Is that all?”
"We will release His Eminence and discuss one more small condition in private," continued d'Artagnan. "Monseigneur will need some time to travel far enough to avoid your pursuit."
"I will not leave you alone, d'Artagnan!" cried Aramis.
“I must say a few words to Monseigneur,” smiled the captain, closing the cell door again. “Run, Aramis, quickly! In any case, with a certain amount of skill with this envelope, you will leave the Bastille and tell de Bezmo not to come here. That’s enough for a start. And do you know what? Don’t rely too much on this paper in the ports of France, I am convinced that the King will have time to warn his spies so that anyone who presents such a document will be immediately arrested or killed.”
“I understand that, but what about you, d’Artagnan?” asked Aramis.
- I'm not asking you how you're going to get out of this situation without money and without servants, alone in Paris! - answered d'Artagnan. - I have absolute faith in your abilities!
"Oh, believe me, it will be extremely simple for me!" cried Aramis.
"I believe," repeated d'Artagnan. "And you believe that I will not perish. So, to business. Go away and hold de Bezmo."
“But what if?” Aramis asked anxiously.
"I beg you!" cried d'Artagnan. "Aramis, with your connections you will get me out of the Bastille in a few days!"
"It's true!" cried Aramis. "If you live another day, I 'll do it!"
“I give you my word that I will not die for at least two more days!” d’Artagnan answered with a smile.
“Keep your word!” replied Aramis, hugging the captain and disappearing into the bends of the corridor.
"Your Majesty," said d'Artagnan, opening the door again, "your sworn enemy is now far away, and your faithful captain of the Musketeers is once again ready to listen to your orders!"
"Are you completely subordinate to me, Captain?" the King asked incredulously.
“Your Majesty has seen many times that d’Artagnan’s word can be trusted,” said the captain without batting an eye.
“Your behavior today proves otherwise,” Louis objected doubtfully.
“I showed my willfulness only when I was arrested and told that I was going to die,” replied d’Artagnan. “In that case, I no longer considered myself in Your Majesty’s service. I was dismissed. I became a simple prisoner. And what can be expected of a prisoner? Prisoners, you know, are always shouting all sorts of nonsense, that’s their lot.”
“You seem to be quite well informed about how prisoners behave,” the King said harshly, turning pale, since he took the captain’s words personally.
“In the course of my duties I have brought many criminals to the Bastille,” replied d’Artagnan with such an innocent face that Louis believed that the captain had not intended to hint at the King’s behavior during his first and second imprisonment in the cell.
“ You still treat me without due respect,” said the King coldly, who understood perfectly well that he was still in the captain’s power.
"What if he sent d'Herblay for help?" the King thought in horror. "In an hour or two, a whole army of their supporters could appear here and commit the most brutal violence against me and even kill me! What have I done! I am lost! I must somehow appease him and resolve this conflict as quickly as possible so that I can return to the Louvre!"
"Remember, Your Majesty, I brought you death certificates for three of the four persons for whom I received your orders," the captain continued. "The Baron du Valon, the Comte de La F;re, and the Vicomte de Bragelonne are dead, and I have brought you irrefutable proof of this fact. At the same time, I did not claim that the Bishop of Vannes was dead; on the contrary, I told you that the matter had not yet been decided. I simply needed time, and it is my fault that I did not have time to find out where he was hiding.
“But you helped him avoid my punishment now,” the King said uncertainly, looking for an opportunity to compromise without violating the logic of the conversation and without making significant concessions to the impudent captain.
"I only wanted a chance to prove my loyalty to the King by the example of the last criminal," d'Artagnan replied without batting an eyelid. "I would like to be useful to Your Majesty, and you need me. I can foresee in what port the bishop will try to use the document you signed, and this document, instead of serving as his pass, will serve as the hook on which we will catch him."
"Are you really such a bad comrade, d'Artagnan, that you have planned such a mean thing?" asked the King.
“I had excellent teachers in the matter of betrayal, Your Majesty, and I was cornered by such arguments that left me no freedom of choice,” the captain lied again.
“Well, let’s say, let’s say,” the King said thoughtfully. “So, can we go?”
"I just don't want to fall too far behind Your Majesty on this journey," d'Artagnan said softly. "If you leave first, I'm afraid you'll forget to take me with you. A good memory is rarely a feature of royalty. To be left in the Bastille because of Your Majesty's forgetfulness is not only extremely unpleasant, but also painfully offensive!"
“We will leave at the same time,” the King said briefly.
“It would be very desirable for me to leave a little earlier than Your Majesty, lest you should have the desire to put my fidelity to the most severe test again,” said d’Artagnan as gently as he could. “I give you my word as d’Artagnan that, on leaving the Bastille, I will convey Your Majesty’s order to bring out the prisoner Marchiali and to conduct him to the carriage which awaits Your Majesty in the courtyard of the Bastille. The commandant is sure that it is you who bear that name, and that in arresting you he is carrying out your own orders, the orders of his King. For this reason he is not guilty of any guilt towards you. De Besmeaux will be sure that he is handing you over to me so that I may conduct you to the fortress on the island of Sainte-Marguerite.”
"You mean to do this?" the King cried out in horror.
"By the time de Besmo has brought you out and placed you in your carriage, I will already be outside the gates of the Bastille. Your loyal guards will take you home, Your Majesty, while I will ride on my horse to do my duty to you. When I deliver you the Bishop of Vannes, bound hand and foot, you will be convinced of my fidelity to you," said d'Artagnan and bowed.
"I already had it in my hands!" the King cried out in despair.
“Your intention of starving us both to death displeased me, first of all, because you, Your Majesty, risked depriving yourself of the most faithful of your officers,” replied the captain. “You will receive the Bishop of Vannes from my hands and leave me in my former position, or you will dismiss me, or you will send me to the Bastille, not to die of starvation, but so that I may grow old here, as Monsieur Fouquet is destined to do. I do not like to die of hunger racing with the Bishop. I prefer a solitary cell, where I will at least be fed somehow. Bread and water are better at quenching hunger than the sighs and prayers of a starving priest next to me. Is that too much to ask?”
"You are not asking, you are demanding, Captain!" exclaimed the King.
"My present position allows me to do so," the captain answered modestly, "but it is in your power to change that. Just trust me, let me go free, and I promise that your freedom will come no later than ten minutes after my departure from the Bastille."
“And if you deceive me?” asked the King suspiciously.
- Have mercy, Your Majesty! - The whole court knows that you have gone somewhere, accompanied by twenty guards, led by the captain of your musketeers. Someone guessed or saw how the cortege drove up to the Bastille. The guards know that they have brought the King here. If you linger here too long, they will attack the Bastille and extract Your Majesty from it. There will probably be a small scandal, but the matter will end well for you. If I wanted to deceive you, I would have conspired with the Bishop of Vannes to bring his forces here, which he certainly has even here in Paris. With these forces he would disarm the twenty guards and take you away far away, where no one will ever find you. But I did not do this.
The King shuddered at the fact that the captain had just told him all his fears, which made him believe that perhaps these fears were not as groundless as d'Artagnan tried to show.
“We must finish this damned business as soon as possible!” thought the King. “We must make any concessions, just to get out of this damned Bastille as soon as possible and get back to the Louvre!”
“My request is very simple, Your Majesty,” the captain continued. “First, you will write a letter assuring your freedom and the complete innocence of the Marquis de Besmo. It will contain an order for him to take the prisoner Marchiali out, put him in a carriage, and then entrust the carriage to the protection of the royal guard. You can prepare other orders from the King; I leave the paper, pen, and ink with you. I undertake to hand the said letter to the commandant, the Marquis de Besmo, with instructions to open it ten minutes after my departure. For myself, I ask only an envelope with the same inscription: ‘Urgent message from the King to Captain d’Artagnan’ with your signature.”
“And inside, of course, it’s also completely empty?” the King chuckled.
"Not quite, Your Majesty," the captain objected. "I ask that it be written that four guardsmen are obliged to obey me unquestioningly in order to carry out your order."
"What are you planning, Captain?" the King asked haughtily.
"I will simply send them galloping as fast as they can in four different directions on some insignificant errands," replied d'Artagnan. "I would very much like to make it a little more difficult for Colbert to catch Captain d'Artagnan, so as to gain at least a small advantage in my journey. I am tired of running around France, being grabbed by the boots by any lieutenant who has authority higher than the captain of the king's musketeers. I only wish to confuse the tracks a little and to break away from the intendant of finances, who has become quite tiresome to me, and who imagines himself to be the Marshal of France and the Minister of the Interior in one person.
“You hate Colbert, d’Artagnan,” the King said calmly.
“That’s good,” he thought, “let him blame him for all his misfortunes!”
"I have less respect for him than he would probably like to see from me," said d'Artagnan, dispassionately. "It is now about five o'clock in the evening," he said. "If we do not come to an agreement..."
“He is still waiting for the Bishop of Van with his people!” thought the King. “We must hurry!”
“We have come to an agreement on all issues, Captain,” said Louis. “I will write all the necessary papers, wait three minutes.”
"Well, well! I managed to persuade him!" thought d'Artagnan. "It's good that I didn't manage to finish my sentence!"
Indeed, he was going to say: "If we do not come to an agreement, my position will soon become too dangerous for me to continue the negotiations." In that case, he decided to break through the ranks of the guards at his own risk, or try to explain the King's delay by some unusual reason, but he absolutely did not like both of these options.
“Dictate!” said the King, “I am already completely confused by your complex plans and your words.”
“Let’s say, Your Majesty, that in the first document you write the following text,” said the captain and began to dictate.

"The King's Command
To the Commandant of the Fortress: to instruct the Captain of the King's Musketeers, D'Artagnan, to remove the prisoner Marchiali and take him away in a closed carriage awaiting him in the courtyard of the Fortress, for which purpose the Captain of the Musketeers is ordered to leave the Fortress in advance and wait for the prisoner inside the carriage, while the Commandant is to bring out the prisoner Marchiali in a mask, showing him the respect due to the rank of Duke, addressing him by the title of "Monseigneur" and escort him to this carriage, after which he is to close the door and order the gates of the Fortress to be opened, to recall his men and not to create obstacles for the carriage to leave for its own purposes.
Signed: King of France Louis XIV »
 
Louis wrote the text dictated to him, reread it and signed it.
"Will you be sitting in the carriage at that time?" asked the King.
“The commandant will think that I will be sitting in the carriage, but I prefer to leave while the commandant reads this letter and carries out your order, Your Majesty,” the captain replied.
“What will serve as my guarantee of this?” Louis inquired.
"D'Artagnan's word is that I will not wait for you inside the carriage, and that I will leave the Bastille," cried the captain. "It is not in my interests, since if you take off your mask and order the guards to arrest me, my situation will be too deplorable."
“I agree,” the King nodded. “What kind of paper should I write for you? Dictate!”
Then d'Artagnan dictated the second order:

"Urgent order from the King
To the captain of the king's musketeers, d'Artagnan.
Deliver an urgent letter immediately, for which he can use four soldiers of my guard, sending them with dispatches or oral instructions to the addresses known to him.
Signed: King of France Louis XIV »

“That is reasonable,” the King agreed, “after all, you can command the guards if necessary even without such an order.”
“But not when they form Your Majesty’s escort,” the captain clarified, “and not as urgently as I now require.”
- So, captain, you gave me your word as d'Artagnan that my first order would be conveyed to the commandant and would be carried out no later than ten minutes after your departure!
"D'Artagnan's word that this order will be immediately communicated to the Commandant and executed within ten minutes, and d'Artagnan's word that I will not wait for you inside the carriage, nor that I will leave the Bastille as soon as I descend the steps leading to the Commandant's office. D'Artagnan's word that you will leave this fortress freely and without the slightest hindrance, accompanied by a convoy of guards who will obey only you and your word, while I, having taken four guards for my own little needs, will in no way hinder your safe journey to the Louvre!" cried the captain. "If I break this word, may the shame and contempt of the entire nobility of France fall upon my gray hairs."

The king made a gesture with his right hand, indicating that he was releasing the captain, and began to wait in silence for further developments.

D'Artagnan, rattling his bunch of keys, headed along the winding corridors to de Bezmo's office.
“Marquis,” he said, “read the order.”
Having read the King's order, de Bezmo extended his hand towards it.
“I must file it in the order book,” he said.
“ Nothing of the sort, my dear Marquis,” replied the captain. “If you have noticed, this order contains detailed instructions for me, whereas you are only ordered to remove from the fortress a prisoner who, according to the documents, was not brought to you as such. This prisoner was not handed over to you by any order, he simply broke in here by cunning, and I am taking him in order to conduct him to a place which is not mentioned here for reasons of secrecy, but which I know for certain. This order will be filed with the case of the commandant of the fortress to which I deliver this prisoner. You must carry it out to the letter. Bear in mind, de Besmo, that I have sworn on the honor of d’Artagnan that you will carry it out to the letter, so I ask you to read it again, and if that is not enough, read it a third time, perhaps, but I will not leave it with you.”
“I understand everything,” Bezmo replied. “Go down and wait in the carriage, I’ll bring him out to you in ten minutes.”
- That's right, - the captain agreed. - Yes, by the way, I didn't lock his cell, he calmed down and is not so violent now. And where would he run? After all, all the windows here are barred!
“It’s a bit reckless, considering he almost escaped just recently,” Bezmo said worriedly.
"What can you do?" shrugged d'Artagnan. "You see that it says here that he should be accorded the honors due to his rank as a duke."
- Really! - Bezmo exclaimed. - So that means...
"I will tell you as a friend, as a former comrade in arms, Marquis," said the captain. "Our former King Louis XIII was extremely amorous. Do you understand?"
- So that's it! - whispered the commandant. - He's the King's illegitimate son! And I was sometimes rather rude to him. No, of course, I didn't offend him or beat him, but, take today, for example, I pushed him so rudely into the cell!
- Don't worry, Marquis! He wasn't officially adopted, his mother was of low rank, and besides, you remember that he's crazy! A slight resemblance to our King made him imagine God knows what. A pretty Italian... His surname, by the way, was given to him by his mother... Marchiali... Just a bastard... But royal blood! Let's show respect for origin. So, treat him like a duke, and call him monsignor. Crazy people like that. I have the honor!
With these words, d'Artagnan, taking the King's order, left the commandant's office and quickly ran down the steps of the stone staircase into the courtyard.
— Gentlemen, attention, the commandant will now bring the one you are expecting to the carriage. Guards to the carriage, Bastille guards to open the gates and go to the guardroom, the general will confirm my order. I am taking the four outside, according to the urgent order of the King!
He showed the order to the senior lieutenant of the guard, jumped on his horse and rode out of the gates of the Bastille.
"Follow me, you four! The King's orders!" he said to the four guardsmen waiting for him outside the Bastille gates, and waving the order in the air, he galloped off towards the southern gates of Paris. Then he gave each one a promise of an urgent and important mission, but first he ordered them to follow him.
Meanwhile, Bezmo found the King and addressed him as Duke.
"Your Highness, please come out, your carriage is waiting for you!" said Bezmo.
The King nodded and walked decisively to the exit. There was no one in the carriage, the King calmly sat down, leaned back on the cushions, after which the carriage smoothly drove out of the Bastille gates and drove in the direction of the Louvre.

LXIV. Monkville

Raoul opened his eyes in surprise. The last thing he remembered was a night raid from the fortress of Candia. With an unceasing pain in his heart, he stubbornly sought death in battle, since he would have considered any other death cowardice, but he had neither the strength nor the desire to continue this life, which seemed to him meaningless and hateful.
Raoul lay on the soft, warm grass, not understanding how he had ended up in this enchanting place, far from the war, from the battles, from death, hunger, suffering. Here, the sounds of cannon fire, generated by the continuous shelling of the fortress by the Turks, were not heard. Neither were the orders of the commanders, the groans of the wounded, the loud orders of the commanders, or the quiet, plaintive lamentations of the civilian part of the fortress inhabitants, who understood their unenviable fate, but could not influence it in any way, and did not even have the advantage that the military had - the advantage of dying during a sortie or in defense during the storming of the fortress, so as not to see the horror and shame to which every fortress captured by the enemy is subjected.
Raoul imagined that he was killed and in paradise. He relaxed and gave himself up to memories of the one for whom he had decided to die a heroic death, for whom he had left his elderly father and gone to war for alien interests on a foreign island, equally far from Venice and Turkey, and even farther from France, so that a war between three countries for this island seemed to him a terrible parody of common sense.
Let us, our dear reader, allow ourselves to reflect on Raoul's love, but not in the bright colors in which the enamored Raoul painted it for himself, and not in the dark tones in which his wounded pride depicted his love to him. We will arm ourselves with the artist's brush and the doctor's lancet, we will try to dissect his feelings, as a naturalist would do, having discovered an unknown amphibian creature in a pond, and we will depict our vision of the situation, using words just as another artist uses his colors, conveying to us views of sunsets and sunrises over seas and over fields.
All his life, from his earliest childhood, when the feeling of love was still unknown to most children, he had idolized the little girl who gradually became a young woman while he himself was growing up and becoming a man. Life for him was identified with love, and love was identified with Louise. If Raoul's feelings had remained unrequited, they would probably have gradually faded away, or they would have been supplanted by other feelings, stronger and more mature, towards someone who would have appreciated his merits and responded to his feelings with mutual love.
Raoul's mistake was that he sincerely believed that he had awakened in Louise reciprocal feelings equal in strength to those he had for her, or at least in some measure similar to them.
Louise, however, had felt for him at first the childish affection that little girls have for their older brothers. Later, having read tales of handsome princes and young princesses, she probably even believed that Raoul could have become such a prince in her life, and admitted the thought that he could have become her fianc;, but she accepted all this only with her mind, because her heart never trembled from his presence next to her, her thoughts never began to dance at the memory of his name, no sweet tremor arose anywhere in her soul when she walked with him in the meadows, or went horseback riding, or simply lay on the grass and wove a wreath of herbs, which she then jokingly put on his head.
While Raoul saw his whole life and all his happiness only in being near Louise and pampering and spoiling her, surrounding her with small cares and serving as her main support and protection in life, Louise looked at Raoul only as one of the pleasant facts in her life along with other joys - the joy of being young, pleasing young men, receiving gifts, eating delicious food, wearing beautiful clothes, walking in nature, listening to the singing of birds and inhaling the aromas of spring flowers. She enjoyed life in all its fullness, taking all its gifts for granted, while Raoul saw only one happiness in life - to be near Louise and bring her all the joys and pleasures that he could only think of for her.
If he had only occasionally remembered his own needs and neglected his constant care for Louise for them, she might perhaps have understood that not only her wishes were important in her relationship with Raoul, but that Raoul's wishes were also worth thinking about and occasionally fulfilling. Not only could her girlish beauty be the cause of admiration for others, but also Raoul's courage, skill, and nobility of soul meant something.
Raoul had ruined his happiness by being so overprotective of Louise that she never developed any sympathy for him, since he had taught her to disregard his wishes, aspirations, and rights. When they went out together, they went only where she wanted. She had never once inquired about his interests or wishes, since she had been accustomed to think that Raoul always wanted exactly what she wanted. And so she did not consider that, in fulfilling her small and large whims, Raoul probably sacrificed his own interests, wishes, or rights in some cases; she could not even admit that such a thing was possible. For this reason, she did not consider herself indebted to him in any way, she did not suppose that their rather close relationship, which could only be called friendly at a very young age, was gradually becoming a relationship that the older generation would evaluate from the point of view of the possibility of a future marriage between these young people.
It was probably the Comte de la F;re who was partly to blame for Raoul's misjudgment of the relationship that was developing between him and Louise. Having failed in his life to find the one woman with whom he could be happy, having lost faith in women, of whom he knew only Lady Claric, known as Milady, who, with her unearthly beauty, possessed the soul of the devil, Athos looked upon all women as incomprehensible phenomena of nature, from whom it was desirable to keep away, and to whom etiquette required respect, but with whom a decent man who wanted and aspired to live an honest life of a noble man should not connect his life. The outward manifestations of his respect for women were not nourished by deep feelings, but were simply the result of a correct upbringing, and he sought to give the same upbringing to his son Raoul, without noticing, however, that Raoul perceived women not as an unknown part of humanity, which one should not strive to explore, but as a charming riddle, which should be solved throughout life.
Having taken the wrong path, father and son made the same mistake. Athos, considering himself independent of women, fell into dependence on his distrust of women in general, as a result of which, even having subsequently met very worthy representatives of the fair sex, he did not for a second allow the possibility of tying himself to marriage or even at least entering into that not very long, but rather pleasant union that a man and a woman enter into without entering into marriage, but spending very pleasant minutes, hours, days, and even years together, sometimes even acquiring offspring and a joint household. Even Cardinal Richelieu was not such an ascetic in relation to women as the glorious and noble Athos was. As we know, the fact that Athos had a son occurred due to a misunderstanding in which the Count himself was the least guilty. Deeply attached to his son, the greatest gift a woman can bestow upon the man she loves, the Count was not filled with gratitude to this woman or respect for the female sex as such, but behaved toward them as we all behave toward the beautiful creations of nature. Knowing that they exist and sometimes even allowing ourselves to enjoy their appearance, or their song, or their dances, but it never occurs to us to bring home some bird to enjoy its song at home or to watch its flight, it does not occur to us to get a roe deer to watch its easy run or to get a peacock at home to admire its magnificent tail every day. Those who do this we consider eccentrics, and we secretly laugh at them. This was Athos's attitude towards women, and this was exactly the same attitude he expected to see in Raoul as he grew older, since he believed that any woman could eventually prove to any man that she was unworthy of love, and therefore feelings for her could not be long-lasting, serious or deep.
Over time, however, Athos realized that he had been deeply mistaken about Raoul, that his romantic attitude towards women did not fade, but only intensified with age, and then he began to consider the Viscount's plans for marriage as quite probable, rejecting only his choice, which he considered a childish attachment that had no chance of long-term and serious consequences.
However, Raoul's persistence upon reaching the age when it was already appropriate for a young man to marry first irritated the Count, then gradually began to arouse respect, and finally overcame his inner resistance. Even if the Count himself did not consider Louise a worthy chosen one for Raoul, he believed that only Raoul himself should judge this, and if he decided that Louise was his destiny, then so be it. Not noticing Louise's resistance to such a development of events, and knowing that Louise's guardians also saw in this marriage a guarantee of Louise's future happiness, the Count, in his naivety, believed that the question of this marriage had already been decided, only asked Raoul not to rush into implementing these plans, believing that time is the best touchstone for the feelings of young people. Being essentially right, the Count did not take into account the fundamental difference in the characters of Raoul and Louise. If for Raoul such a delay only warmed his feelings, forcing him to wait for the day of their hearts’ union with increasing impatience, then for Louise the marriage itself was only a theoretical possibility, one of many, the delay only pleased her, allowing her to assume that other options were entirely possible for her. When she met the King, she identified her delight at his exceptional position, without recognizing its cause, with the very love she had read about in books. And then that trepidation, that languor, and that ardor with which young girls usually experience their first love came into her heart. Every love is nourished by excessive, sometimes unfounded, but strong delight in relation to a person of the opposite sex, and the lover does not realize what the source of this delight is. If for Raoul the source of delight in Louise was the delicacy of her skin, the fragility of her figure, the gracefulness of her posture, despite a slight limp caused by an unfortunate fall from a horse during one of their walks, then for Louise in relation to Raoul there was no reason for such heightened delight, whereas in the King she discovered all those exceptional features that only the brilliance of his exceptional position in France in relation to all other people gave him. Hearing the endless compliments that all sorts of flatterers - court hangers-on - gave the King, she believed in their sincerity and truth, whereas these were merely stock phrases that these flatterers had absorbed with their mothers' milk, inherited from their parents and issued in one gulp without the slightest effort of the mind, and, what is much worse, sometimes without the slightest basis for these compliments.
When the King was called the most handsome in her presence, she began to believe that he was the most handsome young man in all of France. When he was called the most intelligent, she believed that he was. He was called the noblest, the kindest, the wisest, the bravest, the most elegant, and so on, and she believed that there were real grounds for all these epithets.
Impressed by the fact that all these traits were concentrated in a single person, who was also her own age, she at first began to dream of him as an unattainable ideal, but gradually, having the opportunity to see him close enough by virtue of her position as a maid of honor to Princess Henrietta, the King's daughter-in-law, she began to perceive him as her only love, both spiritual and physical, without thinking for a moment about how legitimate or criminal such love was, whether it had a chance to ever cease to be unrequited and purely platonic, or whether it was destined to remain only a vague dream, forever buried in the heart of a young maid of honor. In any case, this feeling did not make her change her attitude toward Raoul, since she never perceived her relationship with him as love. This was her involuntary guilt before him, and in this was also her complete justification before him.
Raoul's thoughts turned to the person of the King. Born into the highest position imaginable in France, he was accustomed to receiving everything he needed. Raoul did not know that Louis had also suffered some hardships in his childhood, since the stingy Cardinal Mazarin had concentrated all the state's money in his hands, giving the Queen and her children only what they simply could not do without. The suffering of the royal family was suffering only in comparison with the situation of other royal families, but if you compare their life with the life of ordinary people, even fairly noble ones, their life did not seem like a continuous series of sufferings. After the death of the cardinal, a significant part of the wealth and almost all of his power passed into the hands of the young King, who almost immediately got used to perceiving his person as exceptionally significant, as the highest value in the state, his desires as the most important affairs of the state, his grievances as state crimes. He considered criminals those who had inflicted these insults on him, even the most insignificant, trivial ones, or not insults at all, but only apparent guilts. To have fun in his absence, not to invite him to the circle of courtiers enjoying themselves, to laugh at a joke that he did not hear, all this turned into acts insulting His Majesty. If he had not yet begun to avenge such sins, then he had already scattered his hatred in heaps among his courtiers, selecting for the most important positions not those people who would cope with them better, but those who were personally more pleasant to him, because they were more attentive and obedient or seemed so.
Intolerant of any criticism, he surrounded himself with flatterers and liars. Believing that any entertainment was possible for himself, he surrounded himself with girls who were ready to make any sacrifice for him, and with equally effeminate men. Everything in the palace was subordinated to pleasure and entertainment, which he called gallantry. He saw nothing wrong with having an eye on his sister-in-law, the wife of his younger brother, Princess Henrietta. He saw no problem in other entertainments of this kind with whomever he pleased, when and where he wanted and in whatever perverted or traditional form he wanted at the moment.
When he met Louise's pure enthusiasm, he felt its authenticity and sincerity, or perhaps it only seemed to him that it was love for him not as a King, but as a man. Louise saw in him, it seemed to him, not the virtues of a King, given to him by his position, his royal crown, but the virtues of a young man, which he had in himself, as a man, as a person, as a human being.
This seemed to him unusual and worth much more than the traditional homage to the king's rank and royal wealth, for it flattered him greatly. Louis's character was such that he valued women more for their attitude toward him than for his own attitude toward them, which was secondary, dependent on this more important factor for him. So it was with Mazarin's charming nieces; he adored those of them who confessed their love to him, and disdained the few who did not make such confessions, or did not put sufficient sincerity into these confessions. He even seriously intended to marry one of the cardinal's nieces. The wedding did not take place only because the Cardinal was forced to admit that such a marriage was extremely undesirable for political reasons, under the pressure of circumstances and under the pressure of Anne of Austria, he agreed that the wedding of the King and the Spanish Princess was most desirable, after which he not only cooled towards the idea of officially becoming related to the King, but also decisively prevented this plan. After this, the King was eager to meet a new pure love, although he did not disdain petty intrigues with the ladies of the court, for which they provided him with the widest opportunities.
Louise was different from all the ladies-in-waiting in that she did not want to receive royal gifts, she refused titles and positions, rich rooms and decorations, she needed only him, her Louis.
And for such love he was ready to pay the highest price, he was ready to give her not positions, not titles, not castles or jewels, but himself, his time, his dependence on her and on her mood. For her love the King was ready to fight. He became a tyrant when he felt that someone else, who stood below him in the state hierarchy, dared to encroach on the most valuable thing he had. For the sake of his fictitious love for Mademoiselle La Valli;re, he would not have spared even his own brother, Philippe d'Orl;ans. How much more insignificant for him was the unknown Viscount de Bragelonne. How much the fact of the existence of correspondence between Louise and Raoul infuriated him, even the most harmless. Those words in which Raoul put his love, and which Louise in the simplicity of her soul perceived only as a continuation of childhood friendship, Louis unmistakably recognized as a sign of strong feelings. Jealousy consumed him entirely. Raoul had to disappear. If he had not decided to go to war and seek his death there, the King would have sent him there by force, because the Viscount, by his very existence, was turning his sublime love for Louise into a base theft of another's happiness, was reducing his high feeling to the level of vile lust, on a momentary happiness built on the ruins of the whole life of a noble young man who, of course, had done nothing to deserve such misfortune, such injustice, such disregard for his legitimate rights to love the one he had loved all his life, and who had never hinted with a single word that his love was a burden to her, or that this love would never end in a happy marriage.
This offence of the King towards the Viscount was so serious that the Count de la F;re did not doubt for a moment that he had every right to refuse to consider the King as his sovereign any longer and to depose himself from the duties of a loyal subject. If it had not been for the intercession of d'Artagnan, the Count would still be in the Bastille as a punishment for his insolence, for he dared to tell the King the truth about who he was in relation to the nobleman he had insulted, and why, by insulting one nobleman, he insulted the entire nobility in his person, that is, insulted the system that alone supports the power of the King in that status of the anointed of God, under which even a foolish youth receives the legal right to command experienced and gray-haired ministers, dukes, peers, marshals and generals, showing them their place at the steps of his throne.
By encroaching on the rights of the Viscount, the King in the eyes of the Count de La F;re ceased to be the King, which was extremely dangerous for the future of the King himself, since the Count de La F;re was not one of those who cold-bloodedly forgive an insult to his family. Although the Count could disregard his own happiness or even his own life in order to fulfill a mere whim of the King, since he considered the position of the King to be the position of the chief nobleman of France, the insult to his son, the ruin of his destiny and the destruction of his happiness the Count was not ready to forgive even the King, and he would not forgive him even to God, if he could get to him.
Vicomte de Bragelonne was not only the only son of the Count de La F;re. He was also the only son of the four musketeers, who were united in their aspirations, and whose life position was the motto: "One for all, all for one!"
So Raoul had effectively four fathers, each of whom was ready to stand up for him before the King. And these four, who easily overthrew and restored monarchies, were a real threat to Louis XIV, which he only dimly guessed. His mistake was that he chose the wrong path. Instead of attracting these four to his side, he declared a hunt for all four, declaring them state criminals, without making the slightest difference between them, without examining their actual guilt and without taking into account their past merits. The guilt of one was automatically shifted to all four, and if d'Artagnan was an exception to this rule, then only a temporary exception.
XIV unleashed against the entire four musketeers and Raoul, remained a secret and was not suspected even by the nobles closest to the throne; not a single member of the royal family suspected it.
It began with an attack by Louis on Fouquet, Aramis's friend, and on La Valli;re, Raoul's fianc;e. It developed into an attack on all four of the five - on Aramis and Porthos for the plot they had decided on, on Raoul for the guilt that Louis had voluntarily assumed before him, on Athos for the double guilt, since parents always feel their children's misfortunes twice as much as the children themselves.
Although Louis could probably forgive Aramis and Porthos someday, he could never forgive Raoul and Athos. Indeed, it sometimes happens that a person can forgive his offender. But there has never been a case in history when an offender could forgive the person he offended. People have not learned to forget the offenses they themselves have inflicted on others. Belief in their own justice forces the mind to look for reasons why they inflicted these offenses. Even without finding such reasons, the mind invents them, and pride makes us believe them. “If I treated him so badly, it is only because he deserved it!” our pride tells us. And we console ourselves with the thought that we do evil only to those who deserve it. Soon our pride tells us that we have treated this person even too gently, since in fact he deserved even more. This makes us think that we are almost patrons of the arts in relation to the people we have offended, whereas they are scoundrels who do not deserve our leniency.
Thus Raoul and Athos were included in the list of the King's implacable enemies.
Aramis, being a keen connoisseur of the human soul, guessed the motives of the King's actions, and for this reason he foresaw his future actions. These considerations forced him to concentrate on an idea higher than saving the superintendent of finances Fouquet from bankruptcy. However much he called Fouquet his friend, in the depths of his heart he knew that his true friends for all time were Athos, Porthos and d'Artagnan, as well as their common son, Raoul. At first he thought that Raoul would easily abandon Louise, seeing how easily she gave herself entirely to the King. But looking closely at the situation, he realized that he had underestimated Raoul's feelings, had not seen the depth of his feelings, even for an object unworthy of such worship.
And then he cast aside all doubts and decided on that conspiracy in which his life, and the life of Porthos, and the fate of the entire kingdom were at stake.
When, however, he believed that he had lost his comrade-in-arms, the magnificent Porthos, while fleeing from pursuit, he resolved to atone for his guilt before his friendship and to take care of the rescue of Raoul and Athos, in respect of whom he understood that the Vicomte did not wish to live any longer in the position of a deceived fianc;, whose feelings had been so grossly outraged by the King himself, and that the Count would not be able to survive the loss of his son for long. Aramis's instructions were carried out to the letter by his three agents, including the not very reliable de Trabu;on. However, he did not take into account that a broken man makes a bad ally, and an even worse one who is not completely broken. He failed to foresee that de Trabu;on willingly carried out instructions that did not contradict the orders of the King and Colbert, but was only looking for an opportunity to take revenge on the mysterious priest who had threatened him with fantastic punishments for his disobedience and forced him to violate his duty, as he understood it.
Let us return, however, to Raoul's dreams.
The young man looked at the clouds, smelled the aromas of the herbs, heard the rustling of the leaves and felt like he was in paradise.
- You are awake, my son! - he heard the Count's voice. - Stop lying on the grass like a village shepherd! Let's go have dinner, and tomorrow we'll go hunting.
- Count! You! Here? What brings you here? Where are we? - Raoul bombarded the Count with questions.
“At first I myself did not understand what had happened to me, how I ended up here,” the Count replied. “You know, my son, we are no longer in France!”
- How? - Raoul was surprised. - What mysterious magical force transported us to another country?
- This force has a very human name. It is called Friendship, my son! - Athos shook his curly and almost completely gray head. - Do you know, Raoul, that you were shell-shocked and almost buried by the explosion, and you would undoubtedly have died, suffocated without air? I would have lost you, my dear son! Our mutual friend Aramis took care that you were saved. We owe this miracle to the friendship of my youth, Raoul.
“And you knew about this, father?” asked Raoul.
“I already had one foot in the next world, because I myself did not have time to save you and thought that I had lost you forever.
"Father! I did not think that by endangering my life I was killing you too!" cried Raoul, who, indeed, had not thought of it in that light. "What grief I must have caused you with my desperate pranks! Will you ever forgive me?"
“My son!” said Athos softly. “Every man has the right to decide his own destiny and his own life. But to risk one’s life without a good reason is neither wise nor noble. If you have decided to perish, seek out ideals for which you would not be sorry to give your life! King Louis XIV has proved to us all that he is a pitiful, vain and insignificant man, who has risen to the pinnacle of power only by chance. And he uses this power very badly. By offending you, he has offended the entire nobility. When I asked him to abandon the lady, who, however, is not suitable for you, and I have always told you so, he did not hear my paternal grief and my noble condemnation, he heard only his own offended pride. God be with him! God be with them both! Adultery under the cover of royal majesty does not cease to be adultery, Raoul!” And a woman who has fallen into adultery must be forgotten.
“But what if this is just an innocent platonic infatuation of youth, which, perhaps, will pass with time?” exclaimed Raoul, feeling that the Count was right, and that his boundless love was probably no longer as boundless as it had previously seemed to him.
“Platonic love…” the Count said sadly. “So you don’t know that Mademoiselle Lavaliere is pregnant.”
“Pregnant?” Raoul asked again.
“Exactly so, my son,” replied the Count. “However, if you believe in the Immaculate Conception…”
“Not in this case, Count!” exclaimed Raoul, pressing his cheek to his father.
Athos felt Raoul's tear running down his cheek.
- Well, my son, - he said quietly, - I feel that you are gradually recovering. Do not expect a quick cure. Some splinter will remain in your heart forever, believe me. But it is quite possible to live with it, and even sometimes be happy. Value friendship more than female attention, and then you will have everything - both.
- Father! - exclaimed Raoul. - Why have you never spoken to me like that before? And about this?
“ Probably because, my son, your father has remained a stupid, self-centered soldier all these years!” Athos laughed through his tears, after which the father and son hugged and went into the house.
“Do you know, Raoul, I have deceived you!” exclaimed Athos.
- You deceived me, Count? In what way? - Raoul was surprised.
- We're not going hunting tomorrow! Here in Scotland! Hunting! Nonsense! We're going to the mountains! We'll breathe the mountain air and enjoy the views of the valley from a bird's eye view!
“Tell me, Count, is this the only thing you deceived me about?” Raoul asked seriously.
“Yes, my son!” replied Athos. “You could…”
- I could have not asked about it, father! I know. But I couldn't not ask.
"When was the last time you climbed a mountain, my son?" asked Athos.
“Never, Count!” exclaimed Raoul. “And you?”
- Exactly then! - Athos smiled.

LXV. Planchet forks out

"Planchet, are you home?" d'Artagnan called from the threshold of the inn.
"Monsieur d'Artagnan, it's you! What joy!" exclaimed Planchet, coming out to meet the captain.
“I’m here for a short time and on important business,” the Gascon said abruptly. “Feed me and these brave soldiers, we’re going on a long journey,” with these words he pointed to the four guards accompanying him.
- You have exchanged your musketeers for guards? - Planchet was surprised. - Come in, gentlemen! Sit down, food and wine will be brought to you now.
“In some cases, the musketeers’ cloaks attract too much attention, and the King’s missions can be very delicate,” the captain said confidentially.
“I understand,” Planchet agreed.
“Today I shall have to break into your cash register, dear Planchet, and extract from it part of my funds, which I have placed in it as a deposit,” continued d’Artagnan.
"Another commercial operation?" Planchet asked briskly. "I'm in!"
"The operation is indeed commercial, dear Planchet, but I will carry it out exclusively with my own savings," the captain replied. "The level of commercial risk in this operation is too great; I cannot expose you to the danger of ruin, now that you have become a respectable married city dweller."
"That's nothing, I trust you, Monsieur d'Artagnan, and I'm ready to invest in the operation even if you find it too risky," Planchet said calmly. "Experience has taught me that it's better to lose with a worthy man like you, Monsieur Captain, than to win with an unworthy man, of which we've seen too many examples lately."
- Yes, my friend, you have become a philosopher! - exclaimed the captain. - Believe me, philosophy is an unreliable science. The wisdom of all ancient thinkers is that with each subsequent aphorism they refuted the previous one, so in their works one can find confirmation of absolutely any thought. With the same effect, one can declare any thought to be wisdom, both expressed and unexpressed, as any thesis, as well as its antithesis.
"And after this you call me a philosopher?" Planchet was surprised. "Compared to you, I am simply a donkey laden with books."
“So you also read, Planchet?” the captain marveled.
"Very little, but sometimes I read a few pages," Planchet replied. "A publisher who went bankrupt had two dozen large volumes soaked by groundwater, and rats had eaten the spines off them. I bought these books from him at a bargain price to wrap candied fruit and nuts in their pages. Sometimes I read some pages that I find particularly interesting."
- Well, continue this occupation if you find it interesting, I read little, I just think more, - answered d'Artagnan. - You have no idea how much time an officer has to spend simply waiting in the reception room! The very place to rack one's brains! I am so accustomed to reasoning that sometimes I even quarrel with myself, and once almost challenged myself to a duel due to a difference of opinion on a philosophical question.
“You must be joking, Monsieur d’Artagnan,” Planchet smiled.
- You can't be fooled! - laughed the captain. - Of course, I'm joking. I read sometimes, too, but mostly books on the art of war. And yet, I really do need money. I intend to hire a ship and bring some goods to France.
“I will buy sweets, tea and other colonial goods from you at the most advantageous prices for you, Monsieur d’Artagnan!” exclaimed Planchet.
- Agreed! - agreed the captain. - If the storm does not wreck my ship and the pirates do not capture it, we will agree on the price, dear Planchet. But for the expedition, as I have already said, I will take only my own savings.
"You'll probably need an assistant," Planchet said.
“As you noticed, I take four guards,” replied the captain, “and you should not leave the shop unattended.”
“I’m not talking about myself, but about Fran;ois,” Planchet objected.
"Has this fine fellow returned already?" cried d'Artagnan.
"I will send for him," said Planchet. "Besides, he has your clothes, your sword, and your horse."
- That's very opportune, dear Planchet! I'll take him! - agreed d'Artagnan. - While we wait for him, I'll have time to have a bite! And pack us some food for the road. We have a long journey ahead of us, and we don't plan to stop anywhere else tonight.
"How much money do you take from your share, Captain?" asked Planchet.
“All the ones we have!” replied d’Artagnan, and, armed with a knife and fork, he attacked the liver pie.
The four guardsmen, who had not eaten since morning, did not need to be invited to the table twice, they joined in with such enthusiasm that d'Artagnan remembered the usual meals in the company of Porthos, when any tasty morsel that was left unnoticed would certainly end up in his mouth, so that there was no need to waste time on conversations and thoughts. As Porthos liked to say, "dinner is dinner, and everything else comes after."

LXVI. Urgent Command of the King

On the evening of the same day, when the King had visited the Bastille of his own free will, but had found himself in such a difficult situation that he feared remaining there forever, Aramis again paid a visit to that infamous fortress.
He arrived accompanied by Bazin and Lieutenant d'Aunay, who, however, remained with the carriage outside the walls of the Bastille and awaited Aramis's exit with some anxiety.
Upon entering, Aramis produced the same document he had used to leave the fortress. It was a piece of paper folded into an envelope, on the outside of which was written in the King's handwriting, "Urgent order of the King," and his own signature.
Aramis entered de Bezmo's office, settled himself in the most comfortable chair like he owned the place, and graciously agreed to treat himself a little at the commandant's expense, limiting himself, however, to two sips of wine and a few dried fruits with a couple of nuts.
- For God's sake, my dear Marquis, forgive me my senile absent-mindedness! - the prelate smiled. - The magnificent work of art on your table distracted my attention so much that I forgot about an important formality! By the way, where did it disappear to? I don't see it on your table.
“I put that indecent candlestick in the desk drawer,” answered de Bezmo, blushing deeply. “After all, it’s an official office…”
"In vain, my dear fellow!" cried Aramis. "Believe me, even the clergy are not such prudes as to be so strict about works on biblical themes. I remember that Cardinal Richelieu had some remarkable paintings by the famous Florentine artist Jacopo Ligozzi. As for the collection of Cardinal Mazarin, this deserves a separate discussion, the images on biblical themes in these paintings were as if alive. Of course, there was no hypocrisy in these paintings, one could study the anatomy of both the male and female body in the smallest details. Unfortunately, his thick-headed heir, who married one of his nieces, did not understand art at all and destroyed all these masterpieces. Do not do the same with this candlestick!
- I'm really embarrassed! After all, this trifle, as I already said, is a gift from colleagues. I would never have acquired such an immodest thing, - de Bezmo tried to justify his secret passion. - Besides, the three graces are not a biblical scene.
- Come on, General! How can you know that these are the Three Graces and not Susanna with her two maids?
“But the Bible doesn’t mention Susanna’s maids!” de Bezmo was surprised.
- Servants are rarely mentioned in the Holy Scriptures, but this does not mean that noble persons did not have servants. Of course, Susanna did not bathe alone, but with maids, it is just that the divinely inspired author did not consider it necessary to mention this fact, - Aramis grinned. - However, to the point, otherwise, while discussing this subject, I will again forget the purpose of my visit.
“I am listening to you, Your Eminence,” said de Bezmo, taking a sip of wine.
"By the way, excellent wine, Monsieur le Marquis!" said Aramis, also taking a microscopic sip. "The fact is that I forgot to leave for your records the King's order explaining my actions in your wonderful establishment. After all, I arrived the day before and spent the whole morning with you awaiting the arrival of Captain d'Artagnan and his escaped prisoner.
"So you were expecting them to arrive!" Bezmo exclaimed. "And I confess that at first I thought you were my new prisoner. True, I didn't know who exactly they brought me with a bag over his head..." With these words, Bezmo looked at Aramis with a very thoughtful expression.
“You have already noticed how susceptible our sovereign is to eccentric pranks!” smiled Aramis with such a disarming smile that Bezmo thought that yesterday morning he had really become the victim of yet another practical joke.
- Let me explain, - the prelate continued. - Mr. Colbert, who brought me, it was he, wasn't it? Well, Mr. Colbert and I received the highest order to check how the most important person, Mr. Fouquet, is being held in the Bastille. The issues of his detention are given the utmost attention. You understand that a person of such a level remains constantly in the center of attention of the highest authority of our state!
“I understand,” Bezmo agreed.
- Certainly! - nodded Aramis. - However, the most effective inspection should take place without warning and in ways that allow us to establish the true state of affairs, and not its appearance. Therefore, I proposed a little joke to Monsieur Colbert. I proposed that he place me for a few hours in a cell similar to the one in which Monsieur Fouquet is placed, and in order not to embarrass you, I asked Monsieur Colbert to hide my face. But you know me too well, so I considered a mask insufficient and proposed using an ordinary bag. You cannot imagine how I wanted to take off this bag and greet you, General! But I restrained myself. And only now, when the inspection has given a very positive result, which I have already had the honor of reporting to His Majesty, have I come to confess to this little joke and to apologize to you.
- Oh, what are you saying, Monseigneur! You are not guilty of anything before me! - de Bezmo was embarrassed. - The King's order regarding the inspection had to be carried out exactly, I understand that!
"I apologize not for carrying out this inspection, but for not having put your accounts in order, General!" replied Aramis. "You remember the document that Monsieur Colbert gave you when he brought me to inspect you yesterday morning. I dictated it myself, so I remember very well the order to confine me to a separate and most spacious cell, don't I?"
“Exactly so, Monsignor!” agreed Bezmo.
- Well, you see! However, I didn’t leave you an order for my release!
- Indeed! - Bezmo was alarmed. - But I could not detain you, since you showed me the King's urgent order, and hurried to the exit to carry it out!
- That's right, but I was so overwhelmed by the work of art on your desk that I forgot to leave you a document that would provide a full accounting of your affairs! - said Aramis with a contrite look. - Can you imagine the position I could have put you in at the next inspection, if it had been carried out by someone else? After all, you didn't have a document justifying my release!
“What a horror!” whispered Bezmo, only now realizing his mistake.
" Fortunately, I never forget anything and remembered my mistake in time," the prelate smiled his disarming smile. "Here is a document that puts everything in its place. Read it! First, read the outside."
With these words, he handed the commandant a document folded into an envelope.
“This is the very document that you showed me yesterday when you left!” Bezmo exclaimed.
“Yes, that one,” Aramis confirmed.
On the outside of the document, folded like an envelope, was written "Urgent Order of the King" and was Louis XIV's signature. Besmo unfolded the envelope and read what was written inside, in exactly the same handwriting:

"Urgent order from the King
Intendant Colbert and d'Herblay are to jointly inspect the quality of detention of the most important state prisoners in the Bastille, for which purpose d'Herblay is to be brought to the Bastille under the guise of a state prisoner and handed over to the commandant, the Marquis de Besmo, for placement in a separate, most spacious cell, ensuring that the prisoner's identity remains unknown to the commandant and his staff. d'Herblay is to spend at least six hours in the cell in order to ensure that all conditions of detention of especially important prisoners are strictly observed. After this has been accomplished, d'Herblay is to be released on the basis of this Order, which is to be shown to the commandant of the Bastille. In the event that Monsieur d'Herblay considers the period of stay in the Bastille insufficient to compile a full report on the results of the inspection, Monsieur d'Artagnan, captain of the king's musketeers, is permitted to remain in the Bastille under the guise of a prisoner for another six hours, but not later than the evening of the same day, after which all three - Monsieur Colbert, Monsieur d'Herblay and Monsieur d'Artagnan - will personally report to me on the results of the inspection.

Signed: Louis XIV"

"So, as you see, everything was carried out in full accordance with this order," said Aramis. "The inspection is over, and if Monsieur d'Artagnan is still with you and is completing his inspection, then..."
"Monsieur d'Artagnan took the prisoner Marchiali to the fortress on the island of Saint-Marguerite, in accordance with the King's orders, forty minutes after your departure!" de Besmo hastened to report.
“Of course, such were his plans and such were His Majesty’s orders,” said Aramis without a shadow of surprise. “I am glad that my positive report was considered sufficient and that no further inspection by the captain of the king’s musketeers was necessary. Perhaps I should have looked at Fouquet himself,” said Aramis, and paused, watching Besmo’s reaction. “However, it is late, he must already be asleep, and we, for our part, have already found out everything we needed. You have passed another inspection with honor, Monsieur Commandant, I congratulate you! You can take this document in exchange for the order for my imaginary arrest.”
“But I already entered it into the registration log,” Bezmo protested weakly.
"Didn't the letter say that the order was secret?" Aramis asked in surprise. "How so! I remember perfectly well that I dictated this notice to be written!"
“Something like that, I think,” answered de Bezmo. “Let me take a look.”
He took out the journal and extracted the order from it.
- Indeed! It says "Secret"! - Bezmo exclaimed.
- You keep the King's secret orders in a journal, which any idler who enters this room can look at! How imprudent, Monsieur General! - said Aramis, shaking his head. - Letters with such notes should be returned to those who handed them over, so that they can destroy them themselves, having the opportunity to make sure that they have not been sent anywhere else and have not become known to outsiders. Well, I will give this letter to the King myself, give it here. As for the entry in the journal, destroy it. Tear out the last page and copy on a new sheet all the entries except this last one. In exchange, you will receive this document in which everything is explained, - said Aramis and decisively exchanged his document for the order the commandant had received from Colbert.
"Do you think it would be right to make this exchange?" asked de Bezmo, looking with surprise at the document that Aramis handed him.
- Here is laid out everything that actually happened, and how it happened, and for what reasons! - answered Aramis. - What is it that confuses you?
“There are no traces left of these actions, I have no confirmation that I carried out this order,” Bezmo said thoughtfully.
"You are right, General!" replied Aramis. "The most correct thing to do with him would be as follows."
With these words, Aramis resolutely took the document which he had just handed to Bezmo in exchange for the order brought by Colbert, crumpled it up and threw it into the burning fireplace.
“How can this be?” Bezmo tried to weakly protest.
"The inspection order was confidential, but not secret," said Aramis in a soothing tone. "Such documents are to be destroyed personally, while secret orders," Aramis patted his pocket, where he had managed to put the order Colbert had brought, "such orders must be returned to the person who signed them. I will personally deliver the document to His Majesty and report on your ideal service.
“Still, it seems to me...” Bezmo muttered uncertainly.
"Anything else?" Aramis asked absentmindedly, adjusting his ring with the remarkable stone known to Monsieur de Besmo as the distinctive sign of a general of the Jesuit order. "Do you have any questions left for me?"
“Your Eminence, I was glad to serve the King and…” Bezmo said with a bow, looking at the ring.
" To the King and only to the King, Monsieur le Marquis!" Aramis interrupted him. "We have only discussed matters connected with His Majesty's commission. Perhaps, someday, we will discuss other matters, but so far we have had no reason to do so."
“As you say, Your Eminence, as you say,” Bezmo answered obediently.
- Your wine is excellent! - Aramis said at last. - And the candlestick... Don't be embarrassed by it, sir commandant! Being a connoisseur of true art is not at all shameful! So, I will report to the King about your diligence. All the best!
With these words, Aramis slowly walked down the stone stairs and left the Bastille.
“Thank God, he’s no longer here,” he said to Bazin. “I had almost no doubt about it!”
And the carriage set off in an unknown direction. As soon as it had gone a respectful distance, a horseman appeared from the shadows of the opposite street and galloped after the carriage. At the next turn, a street lamp illuminated the face of this mysterious horseman in the uniform of His Majesty's guard. If the reader could look at this face, he would recognize Sub-Lieutenant de Trabu;on.

LXVII. The King's Command

"Gentlemen, I hope you have had enough to eat," said d'Artagnan to the guards after a brief conversation with Fran;ois, who had arrived at Planchet's call. "I have already had the honor of showing you the King's order, according to which you are temporarily placed under my command for the execution of a particularly important and secret mission. Here is this order, Lieutenant du Bois, read it aloud.
The lieutenant read:

"Urgent order from the King
To the captain of the king's musketeers, d'Artagnan.
Deliver an urgent letter immediately, for which he can use four soldiers of my guard, sending them with dispatches or oral instructions to the addresses known to him.
Signed: King of France Louis XIV »
 
“We are carrying a letter containing an urgent order,” said d’Artagnan, patting his pocket. “It is an urgent, secret, and extremely important mission. I would like to introduce you to my orderly for special assignments, Fran;ois de Perrin. Fran;ois! These are Messrs. du Bois, de Ch;reau, de Savard, and de Farcy. Since every dog in Paris knows me, I shall put on for a while this red wig and false beard, which my friend, the actor Monsieur Goliard, has lent me. However, my masquerade will not last long, only as far as the gates of the city. And how does he wear that damned beard? It reeks of wormwood and God knows what other herbs a mile away! Planchet! We are going, good luck, and thank you for everything!”
After this, a small detachment of the aforementioned nobles rode away from Planchet's establishment and galloped after their captain.

Meanwhile, Colbert's spies were ordered to track down the captain of the king's musketeers, d'Artagnan, who would presumably be moving alone, trying to cover his tracks. The spies were also told not to be distracted by the search, tracking and pursuit of individual guardsmen named du Bois, de Ch;reau, de Savard and de Farcy, whose descriptions were described in a special order, which indicated that the journey of these people was a diversionary maneuver on which no effort or time should be wasted. For this reason, when Sub-Lieutenant de Lortie drew the attention of Lieutenant d'Elsorte to this cavalcade, the latter only waved his hand contemptuously.
- Leave me alone, de Lortie! - he said. - This is the very diversionary maneuver we were warned about. I recognized Messrs. du Bois, de Ch;reau, de Savard and de Farcy, and that same young man who is posing as Captain d'Artagnan, trying to lure us with a false scent and completely confuse the tracks. I believe that the captain himself must be sought at the opposite end of Paris. Let's go!

The journey to Cannes was long, but without any particular adventures. After Colbert's spies captured Aramis and brought him to Paris, Colbert decided that there were no other tasks for his men in this seaside town, and so he recalled them all to Paris. This was what d'Artagnan had been counting on. However, the Gascon was naturally cautious, and the numerous examples of cunning and betrayal that he had encountered many times in his life forced him to act cautiously and unhurriedly.
Having sent his companions off on different roads and appointed a small inn near the Pointe Croisette as a meeting place, he himself set out in search of a ship that could be hired for an urgent journey to the L;rins Abbey, located on the island of Saint-Honorat.
"The King has ordered the casket containing the relics of Saint Ambrose to be brought!" he said to the captain of the vessel. "This is a secret mission, necessary for the strength of His Majesty in an important and stately matter," he added with a wink. "All France is impatiently awaiting the birth of an heir. Cardinal de Retz pointed to the relics of Saint Ambrose as the most effective means. Everything I have told you is, of course, confidential, but I see that you are a modest and decent man, and I can fully rely on your modesty.
The captain was filled with pride and awareness of the importance of the mission entrusted to him, which, however, did not prevent them from charging him a very hefty price for renting the ship.
"Remember, my friend, that the relics of Saint Ambrose are not the kind of thing that can be transported in a simple box. I will need a carriage that must be placed on a ship and taken to the island of Saint-Honorat.
“Perhaps it will have to be secured better so that it remains motionless in case of pitching,” the captain said doubtfully.
" Excellent!" cried d'Artagnan. "We will also take two horses on board."
" Do we really have to travel around the island of Saint-Honorat in a carriage?" the captain of the ship was surprised. "There's not even room to turn around! The entire length of the island is less than a mile!"
- Very well! - agreed d'Artagnan. - We will take the smallest carriage you can find, and only one horse. But keep in mind, this is the least I can agree to. Do not forget that we are carrying the relics of Saint Ambrose! And do not forget the high purpose of this mission! Such value cannot be carried in one's hands. The King's Order, you see! - with these words d'Artagnan unfolded the paper he had received from the King in front of the captain, and allowed him to read it carefully.
The captain agreed to fulfill all of d'Artagnan's demands exactly.
At dawn the next day the ship headed towards the island of Saint-Honorat.
 
“Captain, we must go round the island of Saint-Marguerite on the right,” said d’Artagnan, looking anxiously at the horizon.
“Of course, Your Excellency,” replied the captain.
“Do you know me?” d’Artagnan was surprised.
"I noticed the count's coat of arms on the guard of your sword," the captain replied. "I know a little about heraldry."
“So much the better,” replied d’Artagnan and walked away from the captain, involuntarily covering the aforementioned coat of arms on the guard of his sword with his finger.
But as soon as the ship turned the cape of the island of Saint-Marguerite, d'Artagnan approached the captain and abruptly ordered:
- We have arrived, captain. Land at the island of Saint-Marguerite.
“But our goal is the Abbey of Lerins on the island of Saint-Honorat, isn’t it?” asked the captain.
- Exactly so, but first we will visit the island of Saint-Marguerite and take from the fortress the silver reliquary for the relics, which is kept by the commandant of the fortress, Monsieur de Saint-Mar.
“Why is the ark kept in the fortress and not in the monastery?” the captain was surprised.
"Because it is decorated with diamonds and emeralds," replied d'Artagnan. "Any more questions?" he asked coldly and harshly.
“You didn’t talk about this before sailing,” the captain said timidly.
"Then I speak of it now," replied d'Artagnan. "All that you need to know you will learn in due time. And see that the carriage and horse are brought ashore with all due care, do not damage the carriage or spoil the horse! The reliquary must be transported with the same reverence and care as if it already contained the relics of Saint Ambrose."
As soon as the ship landed at the island of Sainte-Marguerite, the carriage was brought ashore with all the care and attention that the ship's crew was capable of. The horse was brought ashore after the carriage.
— Gentlemen du Bois, de Ch;reau, de Savard, and de Farcy! — said d'Artagnan, turning to the guards. — Remain here and keep an eye on the captain. I am taking Monsieur de Perrin, that will be enough to carry out my mission in the fortress. A task of the utmost importance is entrusted to you. You are responsible for ensuring that the captain does not think of shirking the further obligations of the contract we have concluded with him. As soon as we return with the carriage, it must be immediately loaded on board the ship, as well as the horse, after which we will set off at once for the island of Saint-Honorat. The slightest delay is inadmissible.
“It will be done,” du Bois answered for everyone, the rest of the guards also confirmed that the task would be carried out exactly.
Fran;ois helped to harness the horse to the carriage, sat on the box, the captain climbed inside the carriage and ordered Fran;ois:
- Forward, to the fortress!
Having approached the fortress to within musket shot distance, d'Artagnan ordered Fran;ois to stop the carriage.
— Wait here. I will enter the fortress, and you remain where you are. When you see me wave my hat to you from the ramparts, enter the courtyard of the fortress through the gates that will open for you, turn the carriage around so that it faces the exit and wait for me. I will get out and get into the carriage, then a masked man will be brought out to us, and after he gets into the carriage, we can drive straight back to the ship’s berth. I will not tolerate delays, if you have any natural needs, take care of yourself in advance. If there is a need to change this plan, I will inform you of it. Do you understand everything, Fran;ois?
“It will be done exactly, captain!” answered Fran;ois.
After these words, d'Artagnan raised his hat, which was placed on the tip of his sword, above his head and slowly moved towards the fortress.
When d'Artagnan had covered half the remaining distance to the fortress, he saw a small smoke above the fortress wall, but even earlier a bullet had hit a stone about ten paces in front of him. D'Artagnan waved his hat three times, then took it off his sword, put it on his head and began to wait. A minute later an officer came out of the fortress gate and headed towards d'Artagnan.
Coming closer and seeing that he was dealing with the captain of the king's musketeers, whom the officer remembered from a previous visit, he saluted and approached d'Artagnan.
“The King’s order!” d’Artagnan said briefly, pulled a paper from the lapel of his left sleeve and handed it to the officer.
The officer read the document, saluted again and, saying “Let’s go!” turned and headed towards the fortress gates.
- Monsieur d'Artagnan! - exclaimed de Saint-Mars, coming out of the gate to meet the guest, having barely noticed and recognized his guest. - Have you brought me a new prisoner?
"I am taking the old man away for a while," replied the captain, extending his hand in a warmer greeting. "I trust you have fed your guest well and cared for him as the King's orders require?"
“That’s exactly how it was, Count,” replied de Saint-Mars. “So you’re taking him?”
“ Read it yourself and draw your own conclusions,” replied d’Artagnan.
De Saint-Mars unfolded the paper and read the very text that d'Artagnan had dictated to the King in the Bastille.

"The King's Command
To the Commandant of the Fortress: to instruct the Captain of the King's Musketeers, D'Artagnan, to remove the prisoner Marchiali and take him away in a closed carriage awaiting him in the courtyard of the Fortress, for which purpose the Captain of the Musketeers is ordered to leave the Fortress in advance and wait for the prisoner inside the carriage, while the Commandant is to bring out the prisoner Marchiali in a mask, showing him the respect due to the rank of Duke, addressing him by the title of "Monseigneur" and escort him to this carriage, after which he is to close the door and order the gates of the Fortress to be opened, to recall his men and not to create obstacles for the carriage to leave for its own purposes.
Signed: King of France Louis XIV »

"You have a carriage?" exclaimed de Saint-Mars in surprise. "Here, on this tiny island?"
“Exactly so, Commandant,” d’Artagnan replied with a smile. “The King’s orders must be followed to the letter. If the order had called for a six-seater carriage drawn by four horses, I would have delivered such a vehicle here. Fortunately, it is enough to have the most modest carriage with a single horse. I will give it to you when it has fulfilled its purpose. You can pick it up at the southern pier after my departure. And my advice to you is to keep it in good condition for at least a month. Something tells me that I will return your prisoner to you within that time, and perhaps through the same intricate procedure. Any questions left, Commandant?”
“Except one thing, captain,” replied de Saint-Mars. “Where is this carriage of yours?”
"So you weren't watching me from the ramparts?" asked d'Artagnan. "I can see it perfectly well from there. Go after the prisoner, and I'll give my officer a sign to drive the carriage into the courtyard."
"Certainly, captain," replied de Saint-Mars. "Open the gate! Let the carriage in!" he shouted to the guard, then turned again to d'Artagnan. "Wait, captain. According to orders, you must wait inside the carriage. Therefore, I will bring out the prisoner after the carriage has entered the courtyard and you have entered."
“I suppose you are not too surprised by the prescribed ritual,” d’Artagnan smiled.
“My duty, captain, is to carry out orders exactly,” replied de Saint-Mars, “and to be surprised is not my department.”
“Extremely clever, Monsieur Commandant,” agreed d’Artagnan.
"Why the hell did I ask him that question?" d'Artagnan asked himself, making a sign with his hat from the fortress wall. "It's nerves! I need to pull myself together and calm down." He forced himself to slowly descend from the fortress wall into the courtyard.
At that moment a carriage entered the courtyard, Fran;ois turned it around to face the exit, and d'Artagnan took one of the two seats in it. Five minutes later the doors of one of the towers opened, and de Saint-Mars emerged, accompanying the prisoner in the iron mask.
The prisoner, without the slightest hesitation and without a single word, approached the carriage and sat down in the empty seat.
“The key?” asked d’Artagnan.
"It doesn't lock," replied de Saint-Mars. "It's just a simple fastening on the straps."
“Okay,” replied the captain. “Fran;ois, forward!”
Fran;ois spurred his horse on, and the carriage quickly rolled out of the fortress gates.
"Good day, Your Highness," said d'Artagnan. "You don't seem at all surprised?"
“I was expecting this,” Philip answered calmly.
- So much the better! - nodded d'Artagnan. - Let's take off this disgrace, but I will ask you to put on a wig and a false beard, otherwise your journey home may encounter unexpected obstacles.
"Home?" asked the prince. "Did you say 'Home'? Where is that?"
“To the Louvre,” d’Artagnan answered indifferently. “From this moment on, the Louvre will be your home.”
“Lord, thank you!” the prince exclaimed and began to quickly remove his mask.
"Be careful, Your Highness!" d'Artagnan smiled. "Save your face, and don't tear the fasteners on this mask with such fury. It will come in handy later."
“Will it be useful?” Philip asked warily.
"I suppose not for you," d'Artagnan replied, and for the first time that day he allowed himself to admire the sea horizon. "The weather at sea is magnificent!" he reported. "The wind is not quite favorable, but we will reach the shore quite quickly by tacks. For us it would be much more dangerous to have a complete calm or a storm and a gale with a squall wind.
"There won't be any storms or tempests, believe me!" Philip replied. "But you shouldn't expect a complete calm either."
“Excellent, Your Majesty!” d’Artagnan nodded and bowed.
“You said?..” Philip whispered.
- Yes. But put on your wig and beard, we have arrived, - answered d'Artagnan. - For some time you must remain incognito, I will address you as Father Martini, if you do not object.

As soon as the carriage had pulled up to the pier, d'Artagnan left it and helped the prince out. Then, tearing one of the curtains from the window on the carriage door, he deftly wrapped the iron mask in it and hurried to the ship, where Philippe had already escorted the prince.
The captain made a sign to his sailors to lift the carriage onto the ship, but d'Artagnan stopped them with a decisive gesture.
- Leave it! I am giving this carriage and the horse to the commandant of the fortress. He will take it later.
“But how are we going to deliver the relics of Saint Ambrose from the island of Saint-Honorat?” the captain was surprised.
- You won't believe it, Captain! - exclaimed d'Artagnan. - We are incredibly lucky! It turns out that the relics of Saint Ambrose are already in a silver reliquary, right here. - With these words, he raised the package with the iron mask above his head. - Father Martini was so kind that, while waiting for our arrival, he himself delivered the relics of Saint Ambrose to the island of Saint-Marguerite and agreed to accompany us all the way to Paris! - With these words, d'Artagnan bowed respectfully to Philippe. - This is great luck! The relics of Saint Ambrose will have special miraculous powers if Father Martini himself takes part in their delivery to Paris!
"Father Martini?" the captain asked in surprise, looking at Philip.
“I’m here today, without rank or vestments,” Philip replied condescendingly, after which he crossed the captain and extended his hand to him to kiss.
The captain recognized Philip as a priest by these natural gestures, so he reverently kissed his hand and said:
- Thank you, lord!
The guards and sailors took their places, after which the ship headed for the shores of France, heading for Cape Pointe Croisette.

LXVIII. The Prelate's Decision

The carriage carried Aramis, Bazin and d'Aunay away from Paris.
The prelate took from his pocket the paper taken from Commandant Bezmo and read the following:

"Secret
The King's Order to the Commandant of the Bastille

Place the prisoner, delivered with an accompanying person who has this letter with him, in custody in a separate and most spacious cell.
This prisoner is to be prevented from having any contact with anyone until another prisoner and his escort arrive, who are to be admitted to the said cell without hindrance. The escort is to be released from the Bastille on first request.

Signed: Louis XIV »

“Not a bad document,” thought Aramis, carefully folding it and returning it to his pocket. “Under different circumstances, it might have been possible to complete the task that even Athos recognized as great. But how to extract Philippe from the fortress on the island of Sainte-Marguerite? In the present circumstances, even I cannot do it! And yet… What if it works? Go to Cannes? In the conditions of pursuit, when all of France is swarming with Colbert’s spies, this route is too dangerous! The route through Spain would be safer. Or through Italy. However long such a detour may seem, I will be within reach of Colbert’s spies only as long as I am in France. So I must leave France by the shortest route.”
" We are going to Le Havre, Bazin," he said. "Lieutenant d'Aunay, at Le Havre we will part company and keep in touch in the same way as before."
Bazin immediately gave the appropriate instructions to the coachman.
"Will Monseigneur send me his orders to Le Havre? Does Monseigneur also have his own people in Le Havre?" asked Lieutenant d'Aunay.
“I have my people in Le Havre, of course,” replied Aramis, “but you need not wait for my news in Le Havre. After my departure, you will return to Paris. I wish to make peace with the King. I intended to crush him, but I have changed my mind. War with him exhausts us both. This is not the best way. I am ready to offer peace, although I have no reliable plan yet. But it will be. To begin with, I only need information.”
At that moment, Aramis felt ashamed of his words and intentions.
"Make peace with the King? Will I really forgive him for Porthos's death? Unthinkable!"
“I suppose it is not forever,” he added. “At the moment we are too crowded in one state, and I prefer to retreat for the time being, but in the near future we may become too crowded in Europe, and then I will force the King to retreat. However, I am tired. I need to rest and think things over.”
With these words, Aramis leaned back against the softly cushioned carriage seat and closed his eyes. From the outside, one might have thought that the prelate was asleep, but he was only thinking, resting his vision.
“I can’t show weakness,” he thought. “One of these three has already betrayed me because I showed weakness somewhere!”
"I have changed my mind, d'Aunay," he said. "You will come with me to Spain by sea, where I will present you to the King of Spain. You will be my envoy, and you will enjoy the immunity of a foreign subject officially accredited as a representative of the Spanish court to the French court. Does this prospect suit you?"
“Thank you, Monsignor,” replied d’Aunay. “With Your Eminence’s permission, I would prefer the first option. I am a soldier and am ready to serve you as such. But I am not a diplomat.”
"Your ideas are accepted," agreed Aramis. "Then go to Paris. Bezmo, remind me that I recommend appointing the Duke d'Alameda as Madrid's representative at the court of France."
Bazin, who had never heard the name before, nodded as if he knew perfectly well what person was being spoken of. Lieutenant d'Aunay looked at Aramis with respect and sank into his own thoughts.

In Le Havre, Bazin found out which ship would soon sail towards Spain. The Caesar was heading for Morocco, but was going to call at ports in Spain and Portugal, the first of which was Bilbao. Aramis and Bazin boarded the ship, where he chartered two cabins.
As soon as the ship entered neutral waters, Aramis went out on deck to take another look at the shores of France, which he was perhaps leaving forever.
He took the King's order out of his pocket and read the document again.
"A fine document and a fine opportunity!" he said to himself under the sound of the wind and waves. "But that's enough for me!"
After these words, he tore the order into small pieces and threw them into the sea.

Going down to the cabin, he threw himself face down on the bunk and hit the bunk twice with his right fist. Then he lay down on his back and, looking at the dusty ceiling with streaks of white paint, said:
- Porthos! My dear Porthos! Will you really remain unavenged?!
He looked at his finger and angrily tore off his Jesuit General's ring. Another moment and he would have thrown it out the open window. But after a moment's hesitation he calmed down and put the ring back in its original place.
“We’ll see,” he said to himself. “We’ll see… Who will win? We should have stayed together, all four of us. That was my mistake. The biggest mistake.”
After these words he tiredly closed his eyes and began to listen to the splash of the waves overboard. For the first time in the last thirty-five years he did not think of any plan, but simply lay and listened to the splash of the waves.
Some time later, Aramis fell asleep. He dreamed of his youth, the Duchess de Schwereuse, young and beautiful.
"Rene, you will be a father, but I forbid you to tell anyone about it," said Maria. "Forget my words immediately! I am a married lady, a duchess, so all my children will be the children of my husbands."
“Like your eldest son, de Luynes,” said Aramis.
- Exactly, like my eldest son de Luynes, - answered Marie. - If he is a boy, he will eventually become the Duke de Chevreuse, if it is a girl, she will perhaps become a duchess, a marchioness or even a princess, why not? The noble family of de Chevreuse can even lay claim to being related to the family of the King.
“In a sense, Marie, you are already related to the King and Queen,” Aramis replied with a smile.
"Nasty, vile Ren;!" Maria answered with a laugh and gently pushed Aramis away from her. "You understand that the child of the Duke de Chevreuse has a completely different future than the child of the Chevalier d'Herblay, and an illegitimate one at that!"
"Who knows!" replied Aramis. "Perhaps I shall reach heights which are unattainable for the Duke de Chevreuse?"
“Oh, Ren;, you are such an impossible dreamer!” the Duchess objected, and again gave Aramis a gentle push.
“I have a rich imagination and big plans,” Aramis replied.
At that moment, Aramis saw that the Duchess de Chevreuse was no longer she, but the Duchess de Longueville.
"Do you really think I'm going to let you think of my son as yours?" she asked.
“Considering that the Duke de Longueville has not spent the night under the same roof with you for over a year, my dear, you will still have to give some explanations to your husband,” Aramis replied.
"I will tell him that the child's father is Fran;ois de La Rochefoucauld, Prince of Marcillac," replied the Duchess. "My husband values his good relations with the Marcillacs, he will not challenge him to a duel and will recognize the child as his own. You must admit that the son of the Duke of Longueville has a much greater future than the illegitimate son of Monsieur d'Herblay!"
"You underestimate me, Duchess," replied Aramis. "What if I succeed in getting the King to agree to be our son's godfather?"
"The King himself is still so young," the Duchess objected. "If you were a Prince, or even a Duke, I might perhaps think of recognizing you as the father of our son. But no, excuse me, you will never be a Duke!"
"Monseigneur," said Bazin, who had appeared in this dream, without surprising Aramis at all. "You have a letter. The King of Spain grants you the title of Duke d'Alameda and asks you to agree to be his envoy to the court of his cousin, King Louis XIV of France."
“I am inclined to agree, but I need to think about it,” Aramis replied.
After that, he realized that all this had only been a dream. He was sailing on a ship, leaving France, perhaps forever.


 LXIX. Enemies

Having seen the ship off, Lieutenant d'Aunay returned to the carriage.
“We’re going back to Paris,” he said to the coachman and took hold of the door handle, intending to get into the carriage.
At that moment he felt someone's hand on his shoulder.
“One minute, Lieutenant!” he heard a familiar voice.
Turning around, d'Aune saw Sub-Lieutenant de Trabu;on.
"We have some things to discuss, don't you think?" asked de Trabu;on.
"Do you mean your perfidious betrayal at Pointe Croisette?" asked d'Aunay.
“I mean your perfidious betrayal much earlier,” replied de Trabu;on.
"It seemed to me that we had both, and almost simultaneously, decided to help the Bishop of Vannes with his little problems," objected d'Aunay, "and at that moment my decision, as well as yours, which was exactly the same, did not seem to you a treacherous betrayal, did it? Or is there something I don't know?"
"To yield temporarily to brutal violence is not yet treason, if there is no other way out," replied de Trabu;on. "But it seemed to me that you had acquired a taste for serving this perfidious nobleman, that is, you liked being an enemy of France and the King."
"The proposals made to me by this nobleman," replied d'Aunay, " have hitherto given me no reason to consider myself an enemy of France and the King. I have become acquainted with the aims, reasons, and methods of action of Monseigneur, and I find them entirely compatible with my notions of honour and justice, whereas the methods of Monsieur Colbert have always aroused in me only disgust.
- Monsieur Colbert is a minister who serves the King of France faithfully and truly, while your so-called monseigneur serves himself in the struggle against His Majesty the King.
"Our opinions on this matter do not coincide," d'Aunay replied calmly. "If you were not satisfied with the position of Monsieur d'Herblay's client, you apparently had the opportunity to inform him of this and to terminate all previously reached agreements."
"This man is a state criminal who must be seized and handed over to Monsieur Colbert!" exclaimed de Trabu;on.
"As far as I can judge, you have done just that, sir sub-lieutenant," replied d'Aunay. "But now it seems that sir d'Herblay will be tried by the king's court. If he is found guilty, then we can return to this dispute; if he is acquitted, that will prove me right, not you. Until he is convicted, I consider my service to this gentleman, on terms acceptable to both parties, to be quite lawful. And that he will be acquitted, I consider it quite probable, since he is a minister of God, and so important that the Pope himself can intercede for him."
"You are in the service of the King, being a guardsman!" exclaimed de Trabu;on.
- No longer! - replied d'Aunay. - I resigned as soon as I realized that I could no longer carry out the orders of Monsieur Colbert, which were not to my liking, and I accepted this resignation. So for a long time now I have been free to dispose of myself and enter into those alliances that I consider necessary, and which, however, do not infringe on my honor and civic duty. Together with you, we were engaged in the rescue of two noblemen under the leadership of Lieutenant du Chante. At that moment, you did not consider yourself a traitor, did you?
“This assignment did not contradict my convictions and my civic duty, so I carried it out,” d’Aunay retorted.
“I can say exactly the same about all of Monseigneur’s orders,” replied du Chante.
“I don’t think so,” de Trabu;on objected.
“ Listen, de Trabu;on, ” said d’Aunay. “ Although we seem to be arguing, it seems to me that we understand each other perfectly. You are looking for a pretext to challenge me to a duel; I am doing the same. What is the use of arguing, when both you and I have a sword? We only need seconds, but here, here, I know no one. We can stop the first two noblemen we meet and ask them to be our seconds, or we can arrange a meeting in Paris. Either option suits me, but I prefer the first. Why delay?”
- Excellent! - exclaimed de Trabu;on. - Let's go. There go two men of noble appearance.
"Gentlemen!" cried d'Aunay, turning to two passers-by, apparently noblemen. "Could you help us? We require two seconds."
One of the men who turned around was wearing a half-mask, he covered his face with his hand and stepped aside. His companion whispered something in his ear and went up to de Trabu;on and d'Aunay.
“I beg your pardon, gentlemen, we cannot be of any assistance to you,” he replied in a low voice. “The fact is that we are in a great hurry, and besides,” here he began to speak even more quietly, “besides, my companion is quite unfit for this service. The fact is that she is a lady. I rely on your modesty, gentlemen. I cannot enlarge on the reasons that made her put on men’s clothes, but believe me, that…”
"Not another word," interrupted d'Aunay. "We will try to find other seconds."
"There are two more coming," said de Trabu;on. "Listen, gentlemen!" he shouted roughly and with deliberate loudness. "We would like to address you on a small matter!"
The nobles looked around distrustfully and quickened their pace, rapidly moving away from the suspicious people.
"We won't succeed like that," said de Trabu;on. "They take us for bandits. It's getting dark, the place is sparsely populated, so it's no wonder they're afraid of us. Only one of us should go looking for a second, and it's best if he doesn't have a sword with him."
“But a sword is a mandatory attribute of a military uniform!” objected d’Aunay.
“But you yourself just said that you are no longer a military man, since you resigned and received it!” de Trabu;on objected.
"A sword is a nobleman's property, but you are probably right," agreed d'Aunay. "In that case, hold my sword and wait somewhere to the side."
- Excellent, let's go to that pier, there is a bench there where you can leave your sword and cloak, so that no one will suspect that you are hiding a pistol or a dagger under your cloak, - suggested de Trabu;on. - Without a cloak and sword, you will look peaceful, and luck will be with you, you will not frighten any of the passers-by with your appearance.
“Excellent,” agreed d’Aune.
He walked with a determined step to the pier, took off his sword along with the baldric and carefully placed it on the bench standing on the pier. Then he took off his cloak and also carefully placed it on the pier.
"We can compare the length of our swords at the same time," said de Trabu;on, drawing d'Aunay's sword from its scabbard. "Look! It seems to me that your sword is somewhat longer! Let's compare now."
With these words he also drew his second sword from its scabbard and placed his sword against d'Aunay's.
“Yes, indeed, it is longer, but only a little!” he exclaimed.
"Really?" exclaimed d' Aunay, who had already moved a few steps away from the bench on which he had laid his cloak and sword. "Let me see."
“Look!” exclaimed de Trabu;on.
With these words he thrust his sword forcefully into Lieutenant d'Aunay's chest.
D'Aunay wheezed, grabbed the sword that had pierced him, and wanted to say something, but at that moment his heart stopped beating, he swayed and fell into the water.
De Trabu;on took d'Aunay's cloak from the bench and threw it into the black water behind the pier, after which he turned towards the city and calmly walked away from the scene of the terrible crime.

LXX. Continuation of the story of the relics

"Well, here we are!" cried d'Artagnan, as the ship's bow touched one of the piers on Cape Pointe Croisette. "And here are the grooms who, according to my orders, brought our horses and our carriage here. Captain, receive the other half of the payment for your services!"
With these words, d'Artagnan handed the purse with the required sum to the captain.
"Holy Father!" he said to Philip. "Will you allow four officers of His Majesty's Guard to carry the reliquary containing the relics of Saint Ambrose from the ship to that carriage, or would you prefer to do it yourself?"
“Two officers will be enough,” Philippe replied condescendingly, having been instructed by d’Artagnan on the way to the mainland and having fully entered into his role.
"Du Bois, de Savard, I beg you!" d'Artagnan ordered, gesturing towards the bundle.
The guards carefully picked up the bundle containing the iron mask and carried it to the carriage with such solemnity as if it really were a reliquary containing holy relics.
"Remember, captain, don't tell anyone about this mission!" d'Artagnan said to the skipper and winked.

Returning home, the captain proudly declared to his wife:
- Thanks to me, France will have an heir to the throne!
"When did you manage to go to Paris?" the captain's wife Melanie asked mockingly, with a fair amount of irony.
" You don't understand anything! Thanks to me, miraculous relics have been delivered from the Lerins Abbey that will help His Majesty conceive an heir," the captain explained.
- You idiot! The King already has a son! - Melanie objected.
"In such an important matter, one heir is not a reliable enough guarantee," the captain said uncertainly, not even realizing how correct the thought he had just formulated was. "It is always useful to acquire an extra couple of male heirs when you have something to pass on to your descendants!"
"You're talking!" Melanie burst out laughing.
" You know what, my dear," the captain said seriously, looking not into his wife's eyes, but much lower, "I secretly managed to touch the reliquary with the relics of Saint Ambrose and I already feel what great power this saint has endowed me with. We will deal with the issue of providing for the heir right now.
"Go away!" Melanie jokingly pushed her husband away. "Right now!" she mimicked him. "I've got a lot of things to do..."
“Later, everything later,” the captain waved his hand. “The grace of Saint Ambrose, you know, won’t wait.”
“Jean-Paul, you’re so mysterious today!” Melanie said, calling her husband by name for the first time in three years.

Of course, by evening half the gossips of the little-known town of Cannes knew that the King of France was preparing to conceive another heir, and that the relics of Saint Ambrose, brought from the Lerins Abbey on the island of Saint-Honorat, were to help him with this. The gossips told absolute fables about the miraculous power of the holy relics, which our pen resolutely refuses to recount.

When these rumors reached the abbot of the abbey, he summoned the custodian of the holy gifts and asked him:
— Why was I not informed that the relics of Saint Ambrose had left our abbey and were heading to Paris to strengthen the male power of His Majesty?
“This is the first time I’ve heard of this, lord!” the keeper replied.
“Let’s go to the storage room,” said the abbot, not believing the keeper.
Having descended into the abbey's repository of the holy gifts, the abbot carefully walked around all the rooms and all the tables with the gifts.
“Why is this place empty?” he asked, pointing to one of the empty tables.
“We have not yet received gifts from parishioners to fill this place; it is, so to speak, awaiting those holy relics that will eventually appear here.”
“Well, at least you have already ordered a reliquary for the relics of Saint Ambrose?” the abbot asked with irritation.
“I believe that…” the keeper began.
“I don’t care what you think, I asked if you ordered the ark?” asked the abbot, seething with anger.
“I was going to do it this morning,” the keeper replied.
- Lord, your will! You must remember everything yourself! Don't put it off! Who did the drawings? - the abbot asked sternly.
“A jeweler on the coast who usually…” said the keeper.
“A Jew?” the abbot asked briefly.
“Maran, lord,” the keeper answered modestly.
- Maran... Well, okay. How much will it cost the abbey?
- We will announce a special collection. I will send four brothers with mugs to the coast today to collect money for the ark.
- Eight, - the bishop corrected, - no, ten is better. One should not economize on such matters. And announce that the relics of Saint Ambrose have already arrived and are kept with us, unfortunately, for now only in a silver reliquary. Is that so? - he asked sternly and looked sternly at the keeper.
“They will soon be delivered by ship from the mainland,” the keeper answered evasively.
- Well, I will not bore you with the details of this matter any longer, but you must understand that the reliquary must correspond to the level of the saint that makes our abbey especially important for the interests of France. I hope you do not need to be taught such things.

The abbot spent the entire evening rummaging through the monastery library, looking for information about Saint Ambrose. The only thing he could find out was that the said saint preached mainly in Milan, and that he was intolerant in some matters, according to which he might not approve of the abbey's choice of the authors of the design and the makers of the reliquary for his relics.
- What can I do about the fact that you can't find a Catholic among jewelers even with fire? - the bishop said to himself. - That's how it happens! He lived and preached in Milan, and his relics are kept in our abbey. However, we wiped their noses!
This thought considerably raised the spirits of the lord. In this elevated mood he allowed himself to tire himself out before going to bed with an extra half-cup of monastery wine, after which he went to rest, filled with a just awareness of the extraordinary importance of the abbey entrusted to his care.
The author does not undertake to describe the further causes and consequences of the events associated with the instructions received by the keeper, only notes that less than six months later a small casket with the relics of Saint Ambrose appeared in the monastery, which, according to rumors, greatly contributed to the strengthening of male power in the matter of conceiving heirs.
D'Artagnan, however, never found out about this, since the whole story about the relics and their healing power, as well as the name of the saint, were invented by him in order to avoid explaining to the captain the true reasons for the expedition to the island of Saint-Marguerite.

LXXI. To Paris!

On the way from Cannes to Paris, d'Artagnan changed his mode of travel several times. Sometimes the travelers rode along the main road of the city in a carriage, sometimes, on the contrary, they chose a bypass road, on which they rode on horseback, in some cases they split into two or even three groups. All these manipulations were incomprehensible to his small detachment, but the guards, being military men, did not ask unnecessary questions on this occasion, Philippe and Fran;ois also preferred to remain silent, or to talk about the most abstract topics.
To everyone's surprise, d'Artagnan headed not to Paris, but to Chartres, where, having gathered four guards, he gave them an unexpected assignment.
Having unrolled the curtain from the carriage, in which, as our readers will remember, the iron mask had previously been wrapped, he took out from it a small silver box, locked with a secret lock.
“This casket, my friends, contains what we have come so far to obtain!” he announced solemnly to the guards. “Messieurs du Bois, de Savart, de Ch;reau, and de Farcy! You have the honor of delivering this reliquary to Rouen Cathedral! The King sends this gift to the dean of the cathedral and asks for his blessing for the birth of the Dauphin. Father Martini will not go with you, since he is leaving today to return to L;rins Abbey. Such is the will of the King. Meanwhile, I have been ordered to go to Le Mans, where I will carry out the second part of the King’s mission with Fran;ois. Having delivered this reliquary to the dean of Rouen Cathedral, you may return to Paris, since your mission will be complete. By the way, be careful. There are reports that bandits may attack you and try to take this relic.” Do not give it up under any circumstances, you are obliged to deliver it to the abbot. However, I do not expect a large number of bandits, well, perhaps two or three. You will cope. This is the most difficult and most dangerous part of your mission, but I have confidence in you and believe in your loyalty to the King. Any questions? A day of rest and then off you go. For travel expenses, you will receive twenty pistoles each.
The guards replied that they understood the order and that they would carry it out thoroughly.
The next morning, as soon as the guards were out of sight, d'Artagnan turned to Philippe and Fran;ois, who remained with him:
- So, we got rid of unnecessary witnesses, we don’t need their help in Paris, and their presence would only harm the work we had started. I couldn’t let them go either, because they would certainly immediately come to Colbert and report on all the details of our journey. Now we need to reach Paris and complete our mission before these fellows reach Rouen and return from there to Paris. I can imagine the surprise of the dean of the Rouen Cathedral when he opens the ark.
“What’s inside it?” Philip asked with a smile.
- I have no idea! - d'Artagnan burst out laughing. - Presumably the handiwork of some pious marquise, who wove lace for the monstrance in order to atone for the sins of her youth. The key to the box is hopelessly lost, it is very difficult to open, so I bought it for the price of scrap silver by weight. How else could I get rid of these burdensome fellow travelers? However, enough chatter, friends, let's go! To Paris!
And the three horsemen, without wasting any time, rode to the capital, where the one who considered d'Artagnan and all his friends his enemies ruled.
"Captain," said Fran;ois, as the travelers approached the southern gate of the city, "I believe that Father Martini, as you call him, would be even more reluctant to meet Colbert's spies than you are."
“That’s right, my friend, you grasp the essence of the problem on the fly,” agreed the captain of the musketeers.
“In that case, I think it would be better for me to go into the city first and visit Monsieur Planchet in order to obtain the most accurate and up-to-date information about events in the city, while you had better leave your horses and get to the center of Paris by river.
- Your proposal, Fran;ois, is reasonable, but we do not have enough time to travel by river. We will buy a cart with vegetables and enter Paris disguised as village traders who have brought products to the market. You go to Planchet and warn him of our arrival. We will be there by evening.
D'Artagnan shook Fran;ois's hand and patted him on the shoulder, the friends wished each other good luck and parted.
"A clever boy!" Philippe said approvingly about Fran;ois, who had galloped off to the center of Paris.
“I thought about it myself,” agreed d’Artagnan. “I would gladly take him into my troop of musketeers…”
Here d'Artagnan stopped short:
- Perhaps my squad no longer exists. The king has apparently appointed a new captain of the royal musketeers.
“Your King, Monsieur d’Artagnan, does not plan to appoint any other person to this post, since he finds this position exclusively suitable for you, and for you alone!” exclaimed Philippe.
He said it so simply and naturally, with his own final decision in mind, that d'Artagnan admired how much the young man had changed since the moment he first saw him.
“The lesson has been learned,” thought d’Artagnan. “I am not taking someone’s puppet to Paris, I am taking the King to Paris! Neither Aramis, nor I, nor Colbert will rule this man. He will not take a first minister who will rule the country in his place, he will not submit to the whims of the Queen Mother or his wife, or his favorite. This young man intends to decide the fate of France and his own destiny. Well, with God! I do not yet know how exactly, but I will help him take the throne of France. Damn it, I could do with Aramis’s help now, however, God willing, we will manage!”
"Have you any plan, Monsieur d'Artagnan, for me to take my rightful place?" asked Philippe.
“There is no definite plan yet, Monsignor, but we will think of something,” d’Artagnan replied, feeling a little awkward from the lack of a clear and foolproof plan.
"That's not scary, Captain," Philippe replied condescendingly. "In the worst case, I have such a plan. I'll just show up at the Louvre and throw the usurper out, order him arrested, and my troops will listen to me, not him."
D'Artagnan looked at Philippe with admiration and realized that he was right.
"I hope, sir, that it will not come to that," he said softly. "It would be most desirable to avoid such excesses, although, as a last resort, your plan will do just fine."
“Well then, Captain,” Philip smiled. “Let’s go buy a greengrocer’s cart, a couple of wide-brimmed hats and aprons, and off we go to Paris?”
“Forward to Paris!” agreed d’Artagnan.

LXXII. The Princess

Princess Henrietta sadly sorted through her jewelry, noting that she had not added anything new to this collection for a whole month, so it was extremely difficult for her to put together a suitable set for an evening out to dinner.
With a sigh, she decided to put on the pearls in which she had already appeared before the King twice in the last month.
“How complicated life has become!” she sighed.
“Madam, Count de Guiche has come to see you and asks to be received,” reported Princess Ora de Montale, the maid of honor.
“Ask,” the princess answered with a sigh, trying in vain to feign boredom and indifference.
"Madame, it is I!" exclaimed de Guiche, entering and falling on the princess's hand.
"Are you eager to get a scolding from the King for giving his brother cause for jealousy again?" Henrietta smiled slyly.
"A scolding from the King is nothing compared to the scolding we all got from the Turks," de Guiche sighed. "But, you know, the only scolding that would really upset me would be a scolding from Your Highness."
“By what right could I give you a dressing down, Count, a representative of such a noble family as the de Gramonts?” the princess was surprised.
"By right of the goddess, to whose altar the enthusiastic admirer has not brought any gifts for too long," de Guiche answered with a smile. "However, I hasten to correct my mistake and bring her a small souvenir from the campaign as a gift."
With these words, de Guiche took out of his pocket a small heart-shaped box, lined with pink velvet.
The princess opened it and saw a set consisting of two small but very elegant diamond earrings and a matching ring.
"What will the Prince say when he sees me wearing these things?" asked Henrietta, blushing with pleasure. "You make him jealous, Count!"
“That’s the only thing left for me, Madame,” de Guiche smiled. “When you have no reason to be proud of the victories you desire, all that remains is to arouse suspicion of their existence in those to whom these victories would be especially burdensome!”
"Ah, Count, you have chosen quite the wrong object of adoration," Henrietta said with feigned sadness. "Several dozen ladies of the court, no matter how refined their taste, would gladly respond to your advances, whereas you attack an unfortunate princess who is not inclined to adventures of this kind."
"What can you do, Your Highness!" de Guiche sighed. "You can't command your heart!"
“Tell me about your glorious victories over the Turks,” Henrietta smiled. “I’m sure you have something to tell.”
"Alas, there were fewer victories than defeats," de Guiche answered sadly. " The forces were not equal and we had to leave the fortress in the end. We lost the glorious Duke de Beaufort!"
"The news of this has already reached the court," Henrietta said with unfeigned sadness. "He was a peculiar man, but very worthy, despite all his eccentricities. I am sincerely sorry." With these words, the princess absentmindedly put the gifted ring on her finger and went to the mirror to try on the earrings as well.
"An unfortunate fate!" agreed de Guiche. "By the way, another amazing man and my friend died in this sortie."
- Really? - asked Henrietta. - I have never heard of this! Who is it?
"The Vicomte de Bragelonne, Princess," replied de Guiche. "It seemed to me that he was deliberately seeking death, since for ten whole days before that he had taken the most active part in all the sorties and had walked so boldly along the ramparts in full view of the Turks that it was only by a miracle that he had not been killed. But his fate had finally found him!"
“Do not grieve for him, my friend,” sighed the Princess. “This unfortunate youth was killed much earlier, and not there, in the fortress, but here, in the Louvre.”
"By the way, I remembered that I have a letter from him for Mademoiselle de La Valli;re," exclaimed de Guiche. "I must certainly take it to her."
"You'd better tear it up and throw it away, Count," Henrietta smiled sadly. "This person is interested in the letters of only one person, whom she sees several times a day, which doesn't stop him from writing numerous messages in between their meetings."
“I see that you are jealous of the King for her,” de Guiche noted. “This makes my presence at your feet completely unnecessary, Madame. Allow me to take my leave.”
"Go, Count, and find yourself an object more favourable to your attentions," Henrietta answered without a shadow of offence. "I would like to see in you a true friend, but everyone around me is trying to convince me that simple friendship between a man and a woman is impossible."
“And they are right, Your Highness,” the count answered with a bow, kissing the princess’s hand.
"Oh, my, how boring!" Henrietta said in a capricious tone. "Go, Count! We'll see each other at dinner."
Here the princess's gaze fell on de Guiche's hand, which he had carefully hidden from her gaze, but out of chagrin forgot to do so at the very last moment.
- My God, Count! - exclaimed the princess. - What's wrong with your hand?
"I only lost two fingers in that sortie in which the Duke de Beaufort and the Vicomte de Bragelonne lost their lives," replied de Guiche. "What is the matter with you, Princess? You have turned pale!"
The princess actually turned pale and almost fainted.
De Guiche took her under the waist with one arm and by the shoulders with the other and helped her into a comfortable position on the couch, after which he settled down at her feet.
- Count! What a misfortune! - cried the Princess, as soon as she had recovered sufficiently to speak again. - You do not take care of yourself at all! You worthless egoist! Have you thought of me?
“I did not expect that such a trifling wound would cause such a storm of feelings in Your Highness,” de Guiche said with surprise.
“I myself did not expect that you were so dear to me, and that I would take your wound more strongly than my own!” answered the Princess, who at that moment was not an arrogant coquette, but a simple loving woman. “ Armand! Dear Armand! God, how careless you are! You probably did not take care of yourself at all! What a horror – all these wars!”
"Madame, you were not so distressed by the death of your relative, the Duke de Beaufort, as you were by the loss of two fingers!" exclaimed de Guiche. "I was afraid that you would turn away from me when you saw me in such a pitiful state, and you, it seems, have called me by name for the first time. Does this mean that you...?"
“Don’t force me to confess, Armand, if your heart hasn’t yet revealed the whole truth about us to you, then you shouldn’t know anything,” the Princess replied. “And if it has told you the most important thing, then what’s the point of asking questions and what’s the point of words at all?”
- Henrietta! - exclaimed de Guiche, pressing his lips to the Princess's hand. - These moments have more than made up for my loss! For the happiness of being loved by you, I would give not only two fingers, but a whole hand!
- Don't you dare, Armand! - cried the Princess. - Promise me to be more careful, if you can't give up military campaigns altogether! God, if you get another such cruel wound, I won't be able to bear it!
"The King sends me to war at the request of his brother, your husband," replied de Guiche. "How can I resist the orders of His Majesty? As for me, I am not at all afraid of the danger of being killed in war; what torments me much more is the thought that when I am away from you, you will forget me, Henrietta!"
- Oh, what are you saying! - the Princess objected. - Forget you! Is that conceivable? No, don't be afraid of it, such a thing will never happen! And now go, I wouldn't like Philippe to find us together! Go away, you fool! We'll meet later! And send me your sister, the Princess of Monaco. We'll talk to her about you.
“Ah, Henrietta, I…” de Guiche answered, but stopped short. “No, what I want and must say does not tolerate fuss. You already know everything. I am entirely yours, and now I know that you are not indifferent to me. Today is the happiest day of my life! I am leaving, but I will immediately find Catherine Charlotte and send her to you. Ah, if only I could see you as often as my sister!”
"She is my lady-in-waiting, and she can see me whenever she likes, even in bed, in her negligee, in the bedroom, but you are a man, you cannot do that!" Henrietta answered playfully and shook her finger at de Guiche. "Go away, you vile creature! And take care of yourself, if not for your own sake, then at least for mine, I implore you!"
De Guiche, full of joyful hints, especially after the mention of the bedroom and negligee, left the Princess happy, and very opportunely: if he had stayed a couple of minutes longer, he would have met Monsieur, who was going to his wife, in which case the King would have sent him back to the front at that very hour. Since His Majesty Louis XIV was also jealous of his sister-in-law Henrietta for de Guiche, and besides, he had an excellent reason to protect her from admirers, because formally he was defending the honor of his brother, protecting his wife from the annoying attention of court dandies. Louis' affair with La Valli;re did not interfere in the least with his married life with the Queen, nor with his frivolous relations and gallant adventures with the ladies of the court, and the Princess was already involved in this circle, and he had already set his sights on the Princess of Monaco, and on Madame de Montale, and on many other charming ladies-in-waiting of his wife and his daughter-in-law.

LXXIII. The Favorite

Mademoiselle de La Valli;re was walking in the park all alone. The numerous courtiers, realizing that there was no way to gain access to the King's favors through her intercession, despite the inexplicable power she had acquired over him, finally left her alone.
She had asked nothing of the King for herself, and therefore would not ask anything for anyone else. This, most likely, was the explanation for her incomprehensible power over Louis, which made him treat her simultaneously as a goddess, and as a favorite plaything, and as the future mother of his children. His blind adoration sometimes gave way to extreme irritation if he did not find in her what he expected, but after the storm the Sun always appeared in their relationship, and although Louise had already several times tried to leave for a monastery forever, Louis always found time and a burning desire to come there for her and beg her on his knees to return, which Louise could no longer resist.
In Count de Guiche Louise was accustomed to see a good friend, since she knew that he was a friend of the Viscount, and she was accustomed to regard the Viscount as that good and bright thing that must always be present in her life simply because it was and is, and therefore must henceforth remain as an inalienable property of being. Thus a child perceives sunlight and warmth without thinking about the reasons for this grace.
“Mademoiselle, good afternoon, I was looking for you,” said de Guiche.
“I am glad to see you, Count,” Louise replied with a bow. “I hope you have brought me good news from my good friends?”
“I am afraid that the news I bring cannot be called good, madam, however, I have brought you a letter and I am obliged to deliver it,” answered the count, taking the Viscount’s letter from his pocket and handing it to Louise.
“What are you saying?” cried Mademoiselle in horror, snatching the letter and hastily opening it. “The Viscount is wounded? Seriously? You are silent! Mortally wounded? Speak! My God, is he dead?”
- Alas, yes, mademoiselle, - answered the Count. - You need time to read the letter, allow me to go.
"Wait, Count! Tell me how it was?" said Louise, not hiding her sorrowful feelings.
" I can only say that the Vicomte was a true hero," replied de Guiche. "He displayed prodigious courage, and his sorties cost the Turks considerable losses. His heroism saved many lives of our countrymen, or at least gave them a reprieve until the final defeat. However, an evil fate took him from us during one of these sorties, in which I took part. In the heat of battle, I only saw how bravely he fought, and how a tremendous explosion knocked him off his feet, as a result of which he fell into a trench, where the defeated enemy cannon rolled after him. Subsequent sorties confirmed that the Vicomte was crushed by the very cannon that I saw roll into it. We did not try to recapture the corpses of our soldiers, since there was almost no ammunition left in the fortress at that time, and the enemy did not allow us to make such night sorties anymore, they illuminated this section of the fortress wall with torches, and their shooters were ready to hit anyone who dared to make such a sortie. Later, the Turks raised this cannon, they buried both their dead and ours. The captured Turks told me that they bury Christians according to Christian customs, since there are also Christians in their troops. Therefore, although the Viscount was buried properly, the place of his grave is unknown to me.
“This is terrible, Count!” Louise cried, bursting into tears.
"Officers like the Vicomte, Madame, are always ready to die for the sake of the Motherland," de Guiche said coldly. "I think the Vicomte de Bragelonne had special reasons for heroism, bordering on madness. For an officer, a nobleman with high ideals and an ardent soul, losing his life in battle is often not as terrible as losing faith in love, believe me."
“Count, you are cruel to me!” Louise exclaimed.
“No more than you went to the Viscount, mademoiselle,” de Guiche replied with a bow and left.
With a breaking heart, Louise unfolded the Viscount's letter and read it, shedding tears.

"Mademoiselle, if you are reading this letter, it means that the Count de Guiche has returned alive from what I believe will be my last military campaign. In that case, I thank the Almighty for his decision. I wish you happiness and forgive you for all the sorrows you have caused my heart without suspecting it. I saw no other way to soothe my soul than the one I have chosen. I bless you. We will meet in another world. Raoul."

- Louise! Where have you been? - exclaimed Ora de Montale, running up to her friend and grabbing her hand. - Phew! I barely found you! Come on, the King ordered me to find you and bring you to him!
“Oh, no, not now,” said Louise, and covering her face with her hands, she rushed in the direction opposite to where her friend was trying to lead her.
“Silly girl!” Ora said, shrugging. “Anyone else in her place would have…”
But what exactly anyone else would have done in Mademoiselle de La Valli;re’s place, we, dear readers, will never know, since Mademoiselle Ora de Montale did not bother to finish her sentence.

LXXIV. Planchet

As soon as d'Artagnan and Philippe entered Planchet's establishment, the owner came out to greet them with open arms.
- Monsieur d'Artagnan, you have returned! I hope your enterprise was successfully completed?
"I hope so too, my friend, but it is too early to draw conclusions. Monseigneur, we are in no danger in this place, and we will be able to continue our journey from here in the very near future. And Master Planchet," with these words the captain made a corresponding gesture towards his former servant, and to some, his commercial partner, "will be happy to satisfy all your needs for the time being. Planchet, Monseigneur needs rest.
“My best rooms are at your Highness’s service,” Planchet answered calmly and with dignity, who, having known d’Artagnan for many years, would not have been surprised even if the Pope himself had come with him to his house.
"What do they hear about me in Paris, Planchet?" asked d'Artagnan after Philippe had retired to finally remove his beard, which had become quite tiresome to him, and to give his face at least a little rest.
- Absolutely nothing. Paris is mute! - answered Planchet.
- So, I’m still the captain of the royal musketeers? - D'Artagnan was surprised.
"At any rate, I have not heard of anyone else being appointed to this post," replied Planchet, "and if such an appointment had taken place, you may be sure I should have known about it! Yes, however, Fran;ois returned before you, as you probably know, and went off to find out through his channels what was going on."
“Well then, let’s wait for Fran;ois,” the captain nodded and headed to the room that he had considered his own for many years.
“I recommend that you pay a visit to Mademoiselle de La Valli;re, Captain,” Planchet said after her.
"What did you say, my dear fellow?" asked d'Artagnan, delving into the profound meaning of Planchet's phrase. "Repeat that word you just said!"
“I suggested that you pay a visit to Monsieur Raoul’s fianc;e, Captain,” repeated Planchet.
- No, buddy! You said a different word! You said "visit", didn't you?
“I didn’t mean anything bad,” Planchet replied.
- Planchet, you are a genius! - exclaimed d'Artagnan. - Precisely "to visit"! Do you know what this word means?
“As far as I know, it means visiting someone, sir,” Planchet said, confused.
- In this case, it means rendez - vous without witnesses, my dear Planchet! That's exactly what we need! - the captain exclaimed admiringly. - I'm a fool, Planchet! How could I not have thought of this before! And Aramis, too, what a conspirator! To construct a whole system of secret mechanisms just to brew a dish that is ready without your efforts and is just waiting for you to come up, blow off the foam and swallow it in one gulp! Well done, Planchet!
- If the captain would like some frothy coffee, I will arrange for it to be brought to your room. Perhaps your fellow traveler would also like his coffee?
- He wants it, Planchet! Oh, how he wants it! Bring me some coffee, cookies, and whatever else you have! - d'Artagnan exclaimed enthusiastically.
- Damn it, rendez - vous! A date that even the King goes to without protection, secretly and without witnesses! What a fool I am! - d'Artagnan said to himself, climbing the stairs to the room where, ten minutes later, Planchet brought a magnificent mug of foamy coffee and a saucer filled with cookies, candied fruits and candied nuts.

LXXV. Francois

That same evening, d'Artagnan was talking with Fran;ois, who had returned from his reconnaissance missions.
"Captain, you are undoubtedly wanted, but they are doing it secretly," he said. "I was stopped six times by different guards and they looked closely at my face. Apparently my age was too different from the description they had, so no one detained me, but if you had been in my place, Captain, I believe the meeting might have ended differently.
- I expected it, my friend! - nodded d'Artagnan. - It does not surprise me. Tell me, my friend, what is your opinion, do my musketeers know that Colbert's spies are looking for me?
"I can't say anything definite on that subject, captain, but some of the nobles clearly don't suspect anything of the sort. Once a nobleman called out to me, thinking that I was you," Fran;ois replied.
"Describe him to me!" cried d'Artagnan eagerly.
“His chin is slightly slanted downwards, and besides…” Fran;ois began.
"The eyes seem to be smiling, while the lower half of the face, on the contrary, expresses sadness?" d'Artagnan picked up. "On the right hand, the little finger and ring finger are just pitiful stumps."
“Exactly so, captain,” Fran;ois smiled.
- De Guiche! He is the one we need! - said d'Artagnan. - We just need to think through a few details, and the plan is ready!
“It’s nice to see you in such a mood, Captain,” Fran;ois said with a smile.
"And how pleasant it is for me to see myself in such a mood, Fran;ois!" laughed d'Artagnan. "I haven't seen myself in such a good mood for a long time! Go, my friend, thank you, I need to think."

Towards evening, d'Artagnan outlined his plan to Philippe and Fran;ois.
“Listen, Fran;ois, I suppose you have already guessed the business I am planning, ” he said.
“In general terms,” answered Fran;ois.
“In that case, Monsignor, I beg you to take off that horrible beard and wig,” said the captain.
“With pleasure,” Philip answered and freed himself from his makeup.
Fran;ois looked at Philippe in surprise, then got down on one knee and kissed his hand.
“I understand you, gentlemen, and I accept your plan,” he said humbly.
"What a wonderful young man!" exclaimed the captain.
“You’re repeating yourself, captain,” Philip replied with a smile.
- Then to business! - agreed d'Artagnan. - This is the plan. I am going to de Guiche. Follow me at such a distance as not to lose sight of me, but so as not to catch the eye of the Count. Today our fate will be decided.
"Do we need weapons, captain?" asked Fran;ois.
- I ask you, Fran;ois, to take with you the object we brought back from our journey. As for you, Monseigneur, I would ask you to take this flask, as well as a large handkerchief and a strong rope. As for the weapons, I will only say that they may be needed only to drive away unnecessary fellow travelers, should they arise. You will receive further instructions on the spot, depending on the circumstances. In general, we intend to remove Louis and place His Highness in his place. This time, I hope, forever.
 
LXXVI. De Guiche

Count de Guiche sat bored in the family castle of de Gramont. In front of him lay a miniature portrait of Princess Henrietta.
The reason for his bad mood was the deliberately disdainful attitude of Princess Henrietta towards him at their next meeting. And all this - after that touching scene in which she almost lost consciousness, worried at the sight of his wound! How could one be so insensitive! In addition, de Guiche noticed that the Princess was especially kind to the Count de Wardes, which outraged him to the depths of his soul.
- Flirt! - said the Count with disdain. - What do I see in her? Only that the King likes her so much? Do I really want to beat the King in this contest?
He looked at the portrait for the umpteenth time, finding that even with its amazingly accurate resemblance, it did not convey even a tenth of the charm that the Princess radiated.
“But the King has long since lost interest in her, and has become infatuated with this provincial lame woman for God knows why!” sighed de Guiche. “And what do they see in her? First Raoul, and then the King? An ordinary country simpleton, completely delighted by the false luxury of the court, unable to distinguish the true diamonds of the souls of real heroes from the cheap glass beads of arrogant proud men. A fool who prefers a dressed-up peacock to a noble falcon! And at the same time soulless, exactly the same as this one…” with these words, de Guiche cast a despairing glance at the portrait of Princess Henrietta.
“Count, the captain of the king’s musketeers, Count d’Artagnan, asks to see him,” the footman reported, holding the captain’s business card on a tray.
"Is the captain here?" exclaimed de Guiche. "Of course, ask him!"
With these words, the count put the miniature away in a drawer and, looking in the mirror, slightly adjusted his curls and smoothed his collar.
“Forgive me for the lateness of my visit, Count,” said d’Artagnan, entering de Guiche’s room.
- What ceremony, Monsieur d'Artagnan! - exclaimed de Guiche. - For you I am simply Armand, you are welcome to see me at any time!
“Thank you, Count, I have a small request to ask of you,” the captain bowed.
- Even with ten! I'm listening to you, - answered de Guiche.
"I have one letter left from a young man, which I must deliver to a mademoiselle," said d'Artagnan softly. "Meanwhile, it is most undesirable for me to appear at court, owing to some misunderstanding between me and His Majesty, which, I hope, will soon be forgotten, but at present this misunderstanding makes my appearance at court extremely risky. Nevertheless, the letter I speak of is of such a nature that I do not find it possible to transmit it through third parties.
“You are speaking of another letter from the Vicomte de Bragelonne to Mademoiselle Louise de La Valli;re,” de Guiche guessed. “It is useless. The Vicomte cannot be brought back, and to appeal to the feelings of Mademoiselle, who has exchanged…”
"You are a thousand times right, my dear Count," agreed d'Artagnan. "I do not expect any change in Mademoiselle's actions under the influence of this letter, besides, it is of no importance now, however, I am bound by a promise, therefore I must hasten and deliver this letter personally and without witnesses, while the circumstances of the misunderstanding do not allow me to carry out this assignment within the time limit set for me by the sender of this letter.
“I understand very well, Count, and I am quite ready to serve and assist in resolving your problem,” replied de Guiche. “However, how can I help? I could, of course, deliver the letter, but you say that you would like to personally…”
“Unfortunately, this has nothing to do with my wishes, Count. I am bound by my promise,” the captain replied.
"So, you must see Mademoiselle de La Valli;re without anyone knowing about it except her," concluded de Guiche. "I think I have found such a means. You see, the King sometimes visits Mademoiselle for such a delicate purpose that he would not wish to have anyone as witnesses of such meetings, including even his closest friends, and even the most trusted people from the royal guard. Completely confidential visits.
“I understand,” the captain agreed.
“A certain schedule has been established for this case,” continued de Guiche. “At the hour when His Majesty may decide to pay such a visit, there must be no strangers on the entire route to Mademoiselle, and this condition is ensured daily by the efforts of special persons.”
"So, if I understand you correctly," said d'Artagnan, "there is a certain hour when one can enter Mademoiselle de La Valli;re's without witnesses. But at that hour she has a guest, a meeting with whom is not in my plans at all! What should I do?"
“We must take advantage of the day when Mademoiselle has reasons to refuse the King a meeting,” replied de Guiche.
“How can we predict such a day and hour?” asked d’Artagnan.
“Perhaps I can,” said the Count. “I believe that this will be just such a day and such an hour. You see, I have already given Mademoiselle a letter similar to the one you speak of this afternoon. With all the faults I find in Mademoiselle, she is not so callous as to treat such a letter with complete indifference. I believe that she will refuse the King an interview this evening. However that may be, she considered the Vicomte her friend, and now, to all appearances, she is in mourning, at least for one day.”
"So, I get the chance to carry out the last part of my mission today?" the captain asked.
"It is worth hastening with this, Monsieur d'Artagnan, since the necessary hour is about to arrive," replied de Guiche. "Wait for me in the reception hall; we are leaving in ten minutes."
“I will wait for you at the exit of your palace, Count, thank you!” the captain replied and, bowing, left.

LXXVII. Louis

The King was not in a good mood that evening. The Princess was flirting with her husband, Monsieur, Duke of Orleans. It was humiliating to be jealous of a younger brother, but the King, who had long since cooled to Henrietta's charms, still believed that he had more right to her attentions than even her own husband.
He glanced at his wife's maids of honor and at the Princess's maids of honor, but found no mystery or novelty in any of them. Having noted the accessibility of each of them, he almost lost interest in them. Mademoiselle de La Valli;re, who still formally remained the Princess's maid of honor, was relieved of the duties of that office, since the King had imposed on her quite other duties, which no maid of honor at court would have shied away from. The inept and feeble resistance which Louise occasionally offered to the King only fueled his passion and made his victories more significant, at least in his own eyes. Therefore, as soon as supper was over, the King hurried along a path on which he did not expect to meet either rivals, witnesses, guards, or any other obstacles of any kind, sex, or rank. He was separated from Louise's chambers only by a door which, to the King's great regret, still had an internal bolt that could not be opened from the outside.
— "Louise, it's me, open up!" the King said clearly, after knocking three times on the door with his diamond-topped cane.
"Your Majesty, I beg you, leave me alone for today," Louise replied. "I want to devote this evening to mourning those who, by the will of God, did not live to see it."
- What is it? - the King was indignant. - You don't want to open the door? Do you have a guest?
"What are you saying?" exclaimed Louise, opening the door. "Come in and see that I am completely alone! But I beg you to leave me for today. I am not feeling well, I am in a sad mood, I want to indulge in sad memories, so my company will only bring melancholy to Your Majesty.
"Very well," said the King, reassured by the fact that there was, indeed, no one in Louise's room. "Give yourself up to your sadness, and I'll just sit here on the chair and watch you while you're sad. You can't forbid me that."
“I cannot forbid you this, Your Majesty, just as I cannot forbid you anything at all,” Louise answered with a bow, “however, I do not advise you to indulge with me in my sadness, the reasons for which you do not know, and therefore you cannot share it with me.”
“So you have secrets from me, mademoiselle?” the King asked haughtily.
"Believe me, these secrets are not from you, but from me," Louise exclaimed hotly. "Sometimes it is so difficult for me to understand myself that I do not know what I am saying or doing."
“Well, it seems that you are indeed not in the mood today,” the King said coldly, hurt by the fact that Louise still wanted to sort out her feelings, which meant that she was still not sure that she loved the King more than any man in the world.
“I will pray for you, Your Majesty,” said Louise, kissing the King’s hand again.
- Prayers, mademoiselle, are not at all what I would like to receive from you! - he cut off coldly. - Thank God, my situation is not such that I need to ask God for any more blessings. And even less is it required of you, mademoiselle. All that I require, you could give me without resorting to divine assistance!
With these words the King turned abruptly and left Mademoiselle de La Valli;re.
“No one can know what fate has in store for him,” said Louise, and bolted the door.

"The devil take that holy woman!" cried the King, as he walked along the dark alleys of the park. "She loves her fears and prejudices more than she loves me! At the very hour when I would like to spend time with her, she gets the idea of arranging an evening of weeping and prayer, and this is not the first time. I have tolerated her caprices too long!"
With these words he raised his cane to knock down a beautiful white rosebud, exuding the sweetest scent, and suddenly he felt someone grab him by the arms and shoulders. He wanted to scream, but a handkerchief soaked in some pungent-smelling liquid was pressed tightly to his face, Louis tried to take a breath, but instead of air, the disgusting smell of this liquid entered him, he felt a metallic taste, dizziness, the twilight park swam before his eyes, after which the King lost consciousness and fell into the arms of those who grabbed him.
D'Artagnan quickly unbuttoned the buttons on the King's waistcoat, took off the waistcoat and threw it to Philippe.
“Put it on, Monsignor!” he exclaimed.
While the prince was pulling on his waistcoat, the captain also pulled off the King's shoes and trousers.
- Put this on, take your cane, put on your wig and go with God! - he said.
“Captain, I’m waiting for you at the Louvre!” said Philippe.
“Certainly, Your Majesty!” replied d’Artagnan, putting an iron mask on Louis.
“We should dress him in the clothes of a monsignor,” said Fran;ois.
"Leave it," the captain waved it off. "In these clothes and the mask, he looks more like an escaped madman. Take the prince's clothes with you so as not to leave traces."
D'Artagnan and Philippe picked up the unconscious Louis and carried him to the carriage that was waiting for them in a secret place.

LXXVIII. Philip

Having followed the path left unguarded for the purpose of the King's secret visits to Mademoiselle de La Valli;re, Philippe entered the Louvre with a step as if he had been walking this way every day for several years.
From his somewhat rapid gait, the courtiers guessed that the King was not quite in the mood and guessed that the reason for this was probably Louise's latest refusal of a tender date, which was quite common with her.
Etienne, who had appeared right there, asked what His Majesty would like to amuse himself with that evening.
— Would Your Majesty like to play Ombre? Or would you like to visit the Queen's ladies-in-waiting?
- Ombre, perhaps! - answered Philip.
“As Your Majesty pleases,” bowed de Saint- Etienne.
"By the way, where did Colbert disappear to?" the King suddenly said. "I haven't seen him for two days, and yet I need him."
“I will order him to be found and sent to Your Majesty,” answered de Saint- Etienne.
“ Yes, my dear Saint- Etienne, do so,” Philippe replied with a nod. “I must give him several orders.”

After some time, the doors of the King's office opened and the secretary appeared.
“Monsieur Colbert, Your Majesty, asks to be received,” he said.
“ Ask,” Philip answered.
The next moment, Colbert entered the office and bowed to the King.
"Mr. Colbert," said Philippe, "I am pleased with your work, however, I would like to make a few comments to you.
“I am listening to you, Your Majesty,” Colbert replied with a bow.
"As you know, I have decided to do without a first minister, following the advice of Cardinal Mazarin," Philippe began. "This does not mean that my government will not have a head. You will perform the functions you performed before, with some adjustments.
Colbert bowed and took up pen and paper to write down the King's words.
- Sit down, Mr. Colbert, it is much more convenient to write at the table, - nodded Philippe. - So, while retaining your position as Minister of Finance, you will also receive the right to control taxes, loans, customs duties, customs tariff, colonial policy. In addition, I will need your help in preparing the military and naval budget. You will have a lot to do, Mr. Colbert. Do not be distracted by petty intrigues with those who do their job conscientiously and successfully. I relieve you of assignments in the area of military policy and military affairs. Marshal de Vauban will take care of this. I appoint Mr. Letellier as Minister of War. Mr. de Lion will be entrusted with the direction of diplomacy. I appoint Mr. de Louvois as Secretary of Military Affairs. Have you written it down?
“I wrote it down, Your Majesty,” Colbert bowed.
- And find Monsieur d'Artagnan, Colbert, do you hear? - Philippe exclaimed.
“We are looking for him all over France, Your Majesty, but we cannot find him,” replied Colbert.
- That's because you're not looking for him, you're hunting him, Monsieur Colbert! - Philippe objected. - I'm not asking you to catch him and throw him in the Bastille, I'm asking you to find him and invite him to take the position that's assigned to him. I understand that it irritates him that every action he takes to carry out my orders is monitored by your numerous spies. Anyone would be furious at such control. Especially considering his Gascon blood... You must admit that Monsieur d'Artagnan, with all his shortcomings, which you constantly tell me about, also has a number of undoubted virtues.
"Your Majesty is absolutely right," Colbert replied. "'Find and invite,' it is written."
“And finally, take care of your finances!” added Philip.

That same evening, Mr. Colbert went to Planchet's establishment.
“Listen, Planchet, I have one question to ask you,” he said.
“If you want to know where Monsieur d’Artagnan is, I cannot answer that question, although he was once my master and we have common trade affairs, but Monsieur the Captain does not consider it necessary to report to me about the purpose and location of his travels,” Planchet hastened to answer.
"I do not wish to seek out Monsieur the Captain," replied Colbert. "I merely wish you to convey to him, in the name of the King, an invitation to finally take up the duties which he is obliged to perform by virtue of his position as Captain of the King's Musketeers. For nearly a month now, his deputy, Monsieur d' Arlencourt, has been performing these duties for him! In that case, what does Monsieur d'Artagnan receive his salary for?"
"And you continue to charge it, Monsieur Colbert!" exclaimed d'Artagnan, who appeared at that very moment and was descending the stairs leading to his permanent room on the second floor. "I have something to justify myself to His Majesty."
“In that case, Monsieur d’Artagnan, I expect you tomorrow in His Majesty’s office with your excuses,” Colbert cut in dryly. “I have the honor to take my leave.”
After these words he stood up and left Planchet's establishment.
“Planchet, my commercial undertaking is partly completed,” said d’Artagnan. “I thought I was carrying it out while on leave, but it turns out that I was not granted leave, and have been listed as an employee all this time. It is very kind of His Majesty to take such care of my financial well-being. But I still have to complete a certain commercial exchange, which I have only half completed. I shall have to ask for leave after all, or perhaps I will go on this second trip of mine at the expense of the treasury. In any case, my commercial undertaking seems to have been successful, and M. Colbert’s visit is a good sign.”
“And I thought you didn’t love him!” said Planchet.
“Believe me, my good Planchet, I thought the same until now; but I think I can change my attitude towards him, provided that he changes my attitude towards me,” replied d’Artagnan. “You see, Planchet, Monsieur Colbert cannot forgive me for having got a certain post which he had his eye on for his nephew. Oh, these ministers! They are always trying to get their nephews and nieces into a position! Thank God that Cardinal Richelieu did not have as many as Cardinal Mazarin! But it seems that these nephews and nieces will never run out! Every time the King elevates a nobleman, a whole string of nephews and nieces follow him, who also strive to attach themselves to the court and to cling to its benefits.” The King should be grateful to me for not promoting my nephews, don't you think, Planchet?
“But you are helping your cousins,” Planchet reminded.
"That is quite another matter!" replied d'Artagnan. "My cousins, not my nephews, but my late father's nephews! And besides, I do not seek for them lucrative positions at court, but simply lend them money from my own earnings."
“Which they are in no hurry to return to you, Captain!” Planchet reminded.
"How can they return it, if their income is not yet such that it would be easy for them to return the sums they borrow from me?" asked d'Artagnan. "And I don't expect them to return them. When I say that I lend them money, I am only sparing their Gascon pride, for they would not take this money as a gift. And how can I not help them? Even the miser Mazarin always forked out for his nieces."
“You hold him up as an example, although a minute ago you were censuring him for exactly this!” Planchet remarked.
"Planchet, my dear comrade-in-arms, you have become very clever, as I can see!" replied d'Artagnan. "Perhaps do not indulge in reading philosophical books, which you have acquired merely as a source of paper to wrap your spices, nuts, and sweets for the children. I have nothing against reading as such, but philosophical works dilute the brain, since they are written by authors who have an abundance of time at their disposal, allowing them to reflect on what is impossible to understand, and to judge what they have not the slightest idea about.
"You're in a great mood today!" said Planchet. "I'm very glad about that."
“What makes you think that?” d’Artagnan was surprised by the insight of his former servant.
“You are as talkative as ever,” Planchet replied.
“Yes, I am indeed extremely talkative, and I am in a great mood!” thought d’Artagnan. “And yet I have just committed a state crime, for which the death penalty is prescribed in the most cruel way that mankind has ever invented! What am I so happy about? Ah, yes, I remembered! My friends are in complete safety, their lives and their honor are no longer in danger! Well, let’s say they are not in danger from the King. After all, we are all mortal, especially the musketeers, soldiers and officers, the military bone!”

LXXIX. State Criminal

The next morning, d'Artagnan appeared at the Louvre as if nothing had happened, and arrived there in his carriage, which he almost never used.
“Report me to the King,” he said to the secretary.
“Let him come in,” said Philip, hearing from the secretary about the arrival of the captain of the musketeers.
In the King's office, d'Artagnan saw Colbert, who, wiping away sweat, was writing something in his notebooks.
“Let’s take a break from state affairs for a moment, Mr. Colbert, and listen to Mr. Captain,” said Philippe. “So, Captain, where have you been?”
“I was catching a state criminal, Your Majesty,” replied d’Artagnan.
- A state criminal, really? - asked Philip. - Who are we talking about?
"A month ago, Your Majesty, you named four state criminals whom I was to capture, or to present you with proof of their death if they were not alive," the captain replied. "For three of them on that list, I presented you with irrefutable documentary evidence of their death. There remained one man, the Bishop of Vannes.
"Do you mean to say that you have captured him, Monsieur d'Artagnan?" asked Philippe.
“He is in my carriage, tied up, under reliable guard, the carriage is standing at the gates of the Louvre,” the captain answered.
“Why didn’t you take him to the Bastille?” asked Philippe.
— I was specifically instructed to prevent the said state criminal from communicating with anyone, giving any signs or having any other communication with anyone. This criminal is tied up, has an iron mask on his face and is guarded by a reliable person.
“Well, I want to look at it,” said Philip.
Colbert rose from his chair and prepared to go with the King, to which Philippe calmly replied:
- Mr. Colbert, follow me at a distance of at least thirty meters. I wish to speak with him alone, without witnesses. Let's go, Mr. Captain.
After this, Philippe and d'Artagnan left the office and proceeded to d'Artagnan's carriage.
The captain opened the door of the carriage, in which Louis sat, bound hand and foot, wearing an iron mask and with a gag in his mouth.
Fran;ois modestly got out of the carriage and walked away at a respectful distance.
“Listen to me, my brother,” said Philip, whereupon Louis shuddered and looked at Philip with surprise and longing.
“My brother, you are not guilty of what our parents did to me,” Philippe continued sadly. “That is why I forgive you for the decades of my imprisonment in the Bastille. But you are guilty of throwing me back into the Bastille, and then into the fortress on the island of Saint-Marguerite, knowing that I am your brother, with the same rights to the throne as you. You disregarded my rights to a happy and free life, forcing me to lead the life of an unhappy prisoner, forgotten by everyone and without the slightest chance for even simple human happiness. Having every opportunity to send me at least to another country, into exile, anywhere, but not to prison, you still chose to imprison me in the fortress as the most banal criminal, which I am not. I have already served my sentence without guilt, so I am not embarrassed by guilt before you without punishment for it. I am abandoning you to the fate you have consciously prepared for me since you learned of my existence. You have not forgiven those who served you faithfully and truly, only because they retained the feelings of friendship, duty and justice, and have not submitted to you in everything, refusing to betray such concepts as friendship, honor and love. With such views on human values, you could not be a good King for such a great power as France is, and which, I hope, it will remain under my reign. Perhaps after some time you will understand me, and forgive me, and resign yourself to your fate. In that case, I promise that I will not leave you without my help and support. I will allow you to live the life of a free and honest man, when this becomes possible. Now I want you to experience for yourselves the cruel fate that was prepared for me, into which I was plunged without any fault on my part, since it is impossible to blame a man only for wanting to regain his freedom, which was taken from him without any reason, taken away basely and secretly, trampling on all laws, human and divine. I served my punishment without guilt, only because I was born who I am. You will bear the punishment for your guilt before me. It will not be eternal, but do not hope that it will be short. Farewell then.

After these words, Philippe closed the carriage door and made a sign to Fran;ois that he could take his place as a guard in it.
"Monsieur Colbert, come here!" said Philippe, raising his voice.
Colbert immediately ran up to Philippe.
Philippe took the folder of papers from Colbert's hands and pulled out a blank sheet of paper. Colbert put his back to it, forming a kind of tabletop, after which Philippe wrote the following text.

"The King's Command

To the Captain of the King's Musketeers, Count d'Artagnan
Return the prisoner Marchiali to the fortress on the island of Saint-Marguerite and hand him over to the commandant of the fortress, Monsieur de Saint-Mar, under personal responsibility.
In relation to the prisoner, all previously prescribed measures must be observed, namely:
1. Wear an iron mask in all cases of contact with any people who come into contact with him to provide him with food, drink, clothing, and other needs.
2. Do not enter into any communication with anyone, including not talking, not corresponding, not giving any signs, and not exchanging information in any other way.
The prisoner of Marchiali is allowed to read and is allowed to remove his mask when he is alone and all contact with other people is excluded, including contact through the windows of the fortress.

Signed: King of France Louis XIV »

After this, Philippe folded the order like an envelope, without giving Colbert the opportunity to read it, and in a sweeping handwriting wrote on its front side “Order of the King”, after which he again put the same signature.
He casually showed this part of the document to Colbert, who merely bowed respectfully and accepted the writing utensils from Philippe’s hands.

- Sir Captain! I beg your pardon for sending you on such a long and distant journey, but believe me, I can only entrust this important mission to you alone! - said Philippe. - Let's go, Colbert, we have not yet finished all the affairs of state management for today.

D'Artagnan unfolded the envelope and looked carefully at the letter.

"One hand!" he thought. "I would never have distinguished the handwriting of this King from that!"

Reading Philippe's order on the go, d'Artagnan did not notice that he almost knocked down one of the guardsmen, who at that moment was hurrying up the steps of the Louvre.
“Excuse me, my friend!” he said mechanically and got into the carriage, where Fran;ois and the tied-up Louis were already waiting for him.

“ It’s okay, it’s okay! It happens!” the guard replied and continued his way up the steps of the Louvre.
- De Trabu;on! Where have you been, my friend? - shouted one of the senior officers of the guard, standing on the same steps. - Haven't seen you for a long time!
- Ah, Monsieur d'Elsorte! I am glad to greet you, and glad to see you in good health, - answered de Trabu;on. - I was away on some business. Excuse me, Monsieur Senior Lieutenant, I am in a hurry.
With these words, de Trabu;on continued on his way. Having learned when Monsieur Colbert would presumably be free, he went back out and walked leisurely towards his house.

LXXX. Trabuson's Career

That same evening, Monsieur Colbert received de Trabu;on.
"I know your exploits, de Trabu;on," said Colbert. "Forgive my forgetfulness. For the fact that you brought the Bishop of Vannes to me, I paid you only with money."
“The sum is quite sufficient, Monsieur Colbert,” replied de Trabu;on.
"For you, perhaps, but for me, no. I intend to continue to use your services, so take this," Colbert said, handing de Trabu;on an envelope.
Opening the envelope, de Trabu;on took out a patent for the post of lieutenant of the royal guard.
- Oh, Monseigneur! I am very grateful! - exclaimed de Trabu;on.
“Don’t rush to thank me, because I’m going to take that away from you now,” replied Colbert. “Come here!”
De Trabu;on, who did not understand anything, returned the envelope with the patent to Colbert.
The finance chief resolutely tore the envelope apart and threw it into the wastebasket.
"Knowing of your other exploits, I forwarded the document," he said. "Here, take this."
With these words he gave the failed lieutenant another similar envelope. Opening it, de Trabu;on extracted from it a patent for the rank of senior lieutenant of the royal guard.
“Thank you, Monseigneur!” exclaimed de Trabu;on with even greater enthusiasm.
“Nonsense, I’m going to tear up this document now too,” Colbert replied with a smile on his lips.
"Have you got anything better for me?" asked de Trabu;on with a sly smile, who had understood the rules of the game and had acquired a taste for it, so he parted with the second patent, which Colbert had also torn up, rather carelessly.
“This is the last patent for today, Monsieur de Trabu;on,” said Colbert, handing over the third envelope, “so be careful with it.”
In the third envelope, the failed senior lieutenant found a patent for the rank of captain of the royal guard.
"Thank you, Monseigneur! This is all I could have dreamed of!" exclaimed de Trabu;on, clutching the patent to his chest.
"It is unfortunate, Captain, that your dreams do not go as far as my plans for you," Colbert said dryly. "In that case, you may be free."
- Your Highness! - exclaimed de Trabu;on. - I will not fail you! Any orders that Your Highness deems necessary to give me will be carried out immediately and to the letter!
"Well, captain, then, sit down and listen to me very carefully," said Colbert. "Monsieur Captain of the King's Musketeers, the Count d'Artagnan, whom you know, must take the prisoner of the Bishop of Vannes, that is to say, Monsieur d'Herblay, one of his best friends, and apparently the last of those who remain alive, to the fortress on the island of Saint-Marguerite. Do you understand me well, Monsieur Captain de Trabu;on?"
“I am listening to you carefully and I understand what you are talking about,” de Trabu;on replied.
"I do not believe all this," said Colbert with apparent calm, although the muscles of his jaw tensed several times so strongly that one could conclude that a mental storm was going on in his chest. "The damned Gascon is deceiving me, I can understand that, but he is deceiving the King too! And I must understand his game. Either the man he has arrested is not Monsieur d'Herblay, or the man he is taking to the fortress will be released by him at the first opportunity, or perhaps both."
“I will find out and report to Your Lordship,” replied de Trabu;on.
- What good are your reports to me? - replied Colbert. - Do not answer, it was a rhetorical question. So, if d'Artagnan releases this man, you will kill both of them and report to me the result. If d'Artagnan delivers this man to the fortress and hands him over to the commander of the fortress, Monsieur de Saint-Mars, you will free this man and bring him to me, here. I will prepare for you an order to this effect, signed by the King. Yes, do not be surprised, the King will sign my order, even if he does not know what is in it, he has done so more than once before. Do you understand everything, de Trabu;on?
“ It’s all perfectly clear, Monseigneur!” replied de Trabu;on.
“It seems that I was too hasty in promoting you to captain,” Colbert said with annoyance. “Why don’t you ask me what should be done in the event of a third scenario?”
"The third option?" asked de Trabu;on. "What is the third option?"
- Think, de Trabu;on, don't disappoint me! After all, you are the captain of the guards, aren't you? So, the first option is to let him go, the second option is to put him under arrest. What is the third option?
“Kill?” de Trabu;on guessed.
" You play the fool very well, Monsieur de Trabu;on, but at present something else is required of you. If d'Artagnan had intended to kill his prisoner, he could have done so last night or this morning. Besides, as far as I know, these pupils of de Treville do not kill unarmed men. No, that is not it. Do you not guess a third possibility?"
“Forgive me, Monseigneur, but I cannot understand what can be done with a person, if not to kill, release and imprison?” de Trabu;on allowed himself to ask, frightened by his own impudence and lack of insight.
- We can make a joint trip with him somewhere in France. We can go abroad together with him. We can arm him and send him against a common enemy, providing him with guards or allowing him to recruit or call his own people. In other words, we can carry out a joint mutiny with him! Haven't you thought of such possibilities, Captain de Trabu;on? - Colbert hissed these words almost in the very face of the newly-minted captain with such fury that de Trabu;on decided that his last patent would now be taken away and torn up, and not without reason and without the issuance of another patent.
“Your Lordship named three more possibilities,” de Trabu;on merely muttered.
"It's all the same thing, because, observing from the side, you won't be able to distinguish one from the other in time," Colbert said with tired irritation. "If these two go together anywhere other than the designated place, that will mean a third possibility. Lord, your will! Where do we get so many blockheads in our army who can't build the simplest chain of logic?"
"Army officers are not trained to construct logical chains," thought de Trabu;on. "They are only required to carry out the orders of their superior officers, giving orders to their subordinate officers and soldiers to do so."
He was smart enough not to say it out loud.
"If these two go somewhere other than the place where the prisoner is supposed to be placed, you will try to find out their intentions and prevent them, whatever they may be. Only do not bring the situation to such a state that you can no longer kill them both. As soon as you feel that they have the slightest opportunity to slip away from you - finish them off. Even if you finish them both off immediately outside the gates of Paris, I will not be too angry with you, but if you miss them, you will go to serve as a simple soldier in a penal company. However, if you do something more for me than just kill these two, you can become a major. This something more consists in understanding d'Artagnan's plans to the end, and not only preventing their implementation, but also exposing his criminal nature to the King. "If he releases Monsieur d'Herblay, you may kill them both, but if in addition you bring back proof of his deed, you will be a major. If he leaves his prisoner in the fortress, you are not allowed to kill d'Artagnan, unless..." Colbert paused. "Unless a stray bullet does it for you. But in that case, the most important thing that will be required of you is to bring the said prisoner to me, safe and sound, but bound hand and foot, gagged and with a sack over his head. In that case, you will be a major. No, in that case, you will be a colonel. Come to Cinq-Mars tomorrow morning for the letter, you will easily overtake d'Artagnan, since he is traveling in his own carriage, and he will not abandon his own carriage, after all, it is expensive personal property. In addition, you are given the assistance of Messrs. d'Elsorte and de Lortie.
"Senior Lieutenant d'Elsorte?" asked de Trabu;on.
"What's the problem? You're the captain now!" Colbert reminded.
- Yes sir, Your Highness! May I go, Monsignor?
“Go, go,” Colbert replied.
As de Trabu;on closed the doors of Colbert's office, the last remark of the office's owner reached his ears.
“Idiot!” said Colbert, unable to restrain himself and thus throwing out his anger at the fact that something was happening around him that was not entirely understandable to him.
"Well," thought de Trabu;on, "the leap from second lieutenant to captain in a single day is worth being called a blockhead behind your back. In my absence, he can call me as many names as he likes!" Then, after a moment's thought, he added mentally, "in my absence, he can even beat me!"

LXXXI. D'Artagnan's Experiment

"Monsieur d'Artagnan, you have succeeded!" exclaimed Fran;ois, not paying attention to the presence of the King in the carriage.
“What exactly happened?” d’Artagnan asked gloomily.
- Replace the King, carry out a coup d';tat that no one suspects, save your friends, you have achieved everything you planned! - Fran;ois continued enthusiastically.
- Listen, Fran;ois, sometimes you seem like a good guy to me, like you're smart, brave, clever... - d'Artagnan said sadly. - But sometimes it seems to me that you're just... Let's say, insufficiently experienced, naive. In short, I wouldn't want to have such a son.
"Excuse me, captain, but I think you wanted to call me an ass," Fran;ois objected. "I have no objection if you tell me the reasons for such an assessment of my mental abilities. But if you did it just to have fun at my expense, then with all due respect..."
"Forgive me, my son, I did not mean to offend you," d'Artagnan said reluctantly. "And you know, this is the second time in my life that I have apologized against my will, and the first time I have done so in order to avoid a duel. I would not like to kill you."
“Apology accepted, Captain, but I will apologize to you first, so that we can be even, if you explain exactly what my mistake was,” said Fran;ois.
"That won't do," the captain laughed. "First you apologize so we're even, and then I'll explain your mistake. Is that okay?"
“Forgive me, Monsieur d’Artagnan, I simply do not have enough experience to correctly assess the situation,” Fran;ois said calmly.
"The devil take me, you are forgiven, of course, but it seems to me that you are not a Gascon at all! At your age I would never have admitted my wrongness as easily as you did!" cried d'Artagnan.
"I am Gascon, of course, it's just that my mother raised me so that I wouldn't be like my father. She tried very hard. She probably succeeded in some ways. That's why I'm a little different from the average Gascon," Fran;ois said, smiling modestly.
"If your mother didn't like your father, why the hell did she marry him?" the captain asked in surprise. "Besides, how can a woman born in Gascony not like the Gascon character? Or was she just a visiting piece of work?"
“I propose that we discuss my family after you explain to me the reasons for your assessment of the situation, and, accordingly, your conclusions about my... lack of experience,” Fran;ois objected.
- Well, the plan is accepted, - agreed d'Artagnan. - So, I will outline my understanding of the situation, and you ask questions if there is anything you do not understand. Sire, join our discussion, and finally remove this disgrace!
With these words, d'Artagnan removed the iron mask from the King and contemptuously threw it on the seat opposite.
- Forgive me, Your Majesty, for not pulling this pear out of your highest mouth, which prevents you from communicating with us fully, but believe me, this is for your own safety.
The king mumbled something discontentedly, to which d'Artagnan calmly replied:
— We will also discuss this issue, but a little later.
After this, turning to Fran;ois, but not forgetting for a moment that Louis was listening to their conversation, d'Artagnan began to reason out loud.
— Imagine, young man, that I was exactly like you, a young and proud, but poor Gascon who came to conquer Paris. The only thing I had was ambition and pride, some skill in holding a sword and some horsemanship. Of course, it seemed to me that I was magnificent as a soldier and impeccable as a man. I conquered Paris, trying to serve the wrong people, the wrong time and the wrong way. I served my Queen Anne, defending her honor from the encroachments of Cardinal Richelieu and from the jealousy of her husband, King Louis XIII. For the sake of these holy, as it seemed to me, goals, I sometimes allowed myself to stab one or two of the cardinal's guards, who, in fact, were the same young and ambitious soldiers as I was at that time. Why did I do this? It seemed to me that my actions were the only correct ones. If the honor of Queen Anne required it, I was ready to die for her. Where are these ideals now? The Queen, who refused the great Cardinal Richelieu simple friendship, entered into a morganatic marriage with a pitiful shadow of that man, Cardinal Mazarin. Then I served Cardinal Mazarin, who put me in prison for it. Porthos and I only managed to escape because he was strong enough to break a few iron bars in the window, and I was cunning enough to track down where Mazarin hid his treasures. To get our freedom back, we had to blackmail the Cardinal. Afraid of losing his money, the Cardinal chose to release me, the Baron du Valon, and the Comte de La F;re. And do you know what gnaws at me? For I had fought against Richelieu, considering him unworthy of my service, and when he died, I suddenly discovered that he was the France I loved and fought for, since the glorious King Louis XIII obeyed the Cardinal in everything, and when the Cardinal died, the King survived him only six months and ten days! I had served Mazarin, and he had thrown me and my friends into prison, and when I began to fight him, I gained my freedom and even some financial independence. I despised this second Cardinal, comparing him with the first, but he kept his promise to leave me alone until his death! It was possible to deal with these nobles, but I did not notice it! And now this young King. I had known him since he was a child. I protected him as best I could from all the troubles that I could foresee and withstand. When the rebels of the Fronde wanted to look at the King to make sure that he had not left Paris, I stood behind the curtain behind his bed, sword in hand, ready to run through anyone who would attempt to harm my King, Louis XIV. And now this same King announces to me that everyone I love and value in this world, all three of my comrades in arms, with whom I have gone through fire and water, serving his father, his mother and himself, must be killed, and killed by me, his captain of the king's musketeers. For this baseness they offered me a marshal's baton. Did thirty-five years of impeccable service really allow me to be judged as a Judas who is ready to sell his friends for material goods, for titles and positions at court? What have I been doing all this time that I have created such a vile impression? And here I am, Charles d'Artagnan, torn between the duty of friendship and the duty of loyal obedience, trying to combine both, but I am pursued by some inexorable fate that nullifies all my attempts, on the one hand, to protect my friends from the King, and on the other hand, to protect the King from some of my friends. All my beautiful plans fail miserably, and I find myself in the Bastille, where my King, my idol, who by age was like a son to me, and by his high position - like a father, a man for whom I would do everything, literally everything, I would not hesitate to give my life for him, but he asks too much - he asks that I give up, to satisfy his fears, the lives of all three of my friends, and, in addition, to satisfy his temporary lust, I also sacrifice the life of the only son of my dear friend, the Count de La Fere, in fact the son of all four of us, since none of us, except the Count, by God's will has children. I find this unacceptable, but fate resists me. I bring the King proof of the death of my three friends, including the poor Vicomte de Bragelonne, but this is not enough for him, he demands the execution of my last friend, Bishop d'Herblay! After that, without waiting for me to act to carry out this cruel order, he orders the bishop to be seized and condemns him to a long, painful death before my eyes, and me to the same death before his eyes. And I asked myself: “D’Artagnan! Whom do you serve? Whom have you served? What have you spent your life on if not to ensure that this man, your future inquisitor, prospers and strengthens his power?!” And then I decided to avoid this outcome. I got out of the Bastille with Bishop d’Herblay, but I realized that I would not be happy in France while such an ungrateful King rules it, but I would not be happy outside France either! For the last two months, I have heard nothing but about the damned marshal’s baton and the exorbitant price the King demands of me for it. Damn it, this damned baton! And the King along with it. Forgive me, Your Majesty, I mean you. I did not mean to offend you, I merely insulted you. Well, that is a thing of the past, you are no longer the King, and if you ever become one again, my words will not change my fate, regardless of whether I had told you everything I am saying now or had kept silent. I have won, you say, Fran;ois, about me? But I did not declare this war! This war was declared for me by those who are accustomed to thinking for me, to move me like a chess piece on the squares: one step forward, one step sideways, one step back. Disgusting! Out of me, a soldier, an officer, they first made a messenger to ensure impunity for the intrigues of royal persons, then a weapon in the fight against Paris and its people, and, finally, they tried to make of me a weapon for the execution of my friends. I did not make a decision, I only defended myself as best I could, trying to avoid the most terrible outcome, choosing the lesser of two evils. From the disgusting and unbearable, I was forced to choose the disgusting. Well, I have deposed one King and put another in his place. Do you know what I want to do most of all, Fran;ois, my son? I want to let the King go his way and ride off wherever my eyes lead me.
At these words of d'Artagnan, Louis fidgeted uneasily, obviously hoping to persuade the captain to carry out his intention.
- Do not be afraid, Your Majesty, I will not do it, calm down! - joked d'Artagnan, then continued. - You see, my friend, we cannot do this, because then we will be immediately arrested, and with us many other good people. I thought that the King's brother could be a better alternative. Perhaps so. But how can I serve him faithfully and truly, remembering every second that I put him on the throne by such dishonorable means? And do you think he can keep such a dangerous man with him, who knows the terrible secret about the existence of a second copy of the King, who, if necessary, can be returned to his former place? Prince Philip said that someday he will probably be able to return Louis to his place, or improve his fate. He does not look like a fool, therefore he is a deceiver. So what happens, have we replaced one satrap with another? Your Majesty, do not be offended, I did it out of love! Look at this, Fran;ois! The Sun King, who commands states to wage war, who can take lives or give them with a stroke of his pen, overturning the sentences of his own court, this man, when you tie his hands and feet and stuff a gag in his mouth, becomes a pitiful, insignificant, worthless little man, whom it costs nothing to kill. But to kill a defenseless man is vile, and to kill a former King – I cannot find the words for such a crime! And so I become a jailer! First they order me to put the Count de la F;re in the Bastille, then I take the Superintendent of Finances, Monsieur Fouquet, there, after that they take me there myself and promise to starve me to death before the eyes of my best friend. And finally, when I have found what seems to be an acceptable solution, the new King sees no better use for me than to entrust me with taking the former King to prison, to the dungeon on the island of Sainte-Marguerite. And what does this say, in your opinion, Fran;ois?
"I suppose that proves that the new King is as afraid of his double's release as the old King was, is it not?" asked Fran;ois.
- This proves that the new King is as short-sighted as the old one. Do not be offended, I beg you, Your Majesty! The fortress on the island of Saint-Marguerite is the least suitable for keeping a prisoner of this kind. Just think about it! It is an island! It is about a mile from the shore. There is another island nearby that is not visible from the shore! If, for example, the Spaniards decided to weaken France by organizing a civil war in it, then for them nothing would be easier than with one or two warships, secretly under the cover of the island of Saint-Honorat, to approach the island of Saint-Marguerite, attack it and capture a prisoner. Then it is enough to declare him the true King of France, and you will get a civil war. Is this what you wanted, Your Majesty, when you sent your own brother Philippe to this fortress? And is this what Philippe is trying to achieve now, sending His Majesty Louis XIV to the same place? They might as well just take His Majesty abroad! Sardinia, Italy and the Ottoman Empire could do the same. They just lack information about it. Your Majesty, you have driven hundreds of soldiers to capture Monsieur d'Herblay, but if you have a network of spies, you should have known that Monsieur d'Herblay had already been to Spain, and if you wanted to destroy everyone who was privy to your secret, then either you believe that Monsieur d'Herblay is not going to privy anyone to this secret, in which case you would only have to agree with him that he would not use it against you anymore, or you do not believe him, but then you should proceed from the fact that, at the very least, the Spanish government is already privy to this secret, therefore, by exterminating Monsieur d'Herblay, you will only give the Spaniards further proof that this man was indeed the bearer of some terrible secret, and was not a dreamer who had invented an incredible invention! Your actions are illogical, since you trusted Monsieur Colbert too much! And what do I see after your brother takes your place? He invites Mr. Colbert and appoints him head of the French government at his side. It is fine that he is at his side and not above himself, but it is very bad that, having removed one superintendent, he appoints another, although in a different nominal position, but by no means with less authority. Dismiss me! I am tired of politics, I am tired of military service, I am tired of state decisions based on the ambitions of small people engaged in the struggle for the attention of the state and for their influence over it. That King or this one - what difference does it make? I would open the doors and let you out, Your Majesty, if I did not believe that by doing so I would either kill you or unleash a civil war in which innocent citizens of France would perish. What are you saying? Will you give me some promises on the condition that I let you go? I beg you! You demonstrated to me the value of your promises recently in the Bastille. Besides, I wouldn’t be the one if Colbert hadn’t already sent a dozen and a half spies after us, who are watching the carriage’s movements, every turn, every change of horses. That’s why I took my carriage, because Colbert thinks that I’ll never leave it and will ride in it myself to the end, to the very pointe Croisette. It’s ridiculous, by God! The reason I didn’t use the carriage was because I feel more comfortable in the saddle, and not at all because I was saving it for some special occasion! You know, Your Majesty, putting something aside for a rainy day is, by God, not my thing! I prefer to think that a rainy day will never come, or to consider every day a rainy day, so that I can have the right to use what I’ve put aside, because I firmly believe that when that rainy day comes, what I’ve put aside won’t be enough for it anyway. Therefore, Your Majesty, there is only one circumstance that prevents me from letting you go. That circumstance is your great resemblance to Your Majesty. Forgive the pun. Putting an iron mask on you is a laughing matter! After all, the mask can be removed. Now, if it were possible to change your appearance so that you could never again become the cause of a civil war in France, then letting you go would be fair and safe. Go somewhere abroad and live as a simple civilian, God be with you. Or do you believe that your brother Philip will come after some time and open the doors of your prison and say to you: "My brother, forgive me, let us rule together"? Or, even worse, give you his place on the throne with the words "now it's your turn"? Nonsense! Empty. I will not gouge out your eye or disfigure your cheek, cut off your lips or ears. That is cruel. But, you know, I knew one Hindu. They manage to paint their faces so that even a mother would not recognize her child under these colorful patterns. However, why did I say that I knew him? I still know him. By the way, we will soon arrive at his house. Do you agree to cover your face with several patterns that will forever deprive you of the opportunity to use your resemblance to yourself to regain the throne or to plunge France into civil war? In this case, you will receive complete freedom. You can go wherever you want! Or do you prefer, spending tedious days in captivity, hoping that your appearance will someday allow you to regain the lost throne? Life will pass in captivity, and this opportunity will never present itself. Think about it, Your Majesty, it is not too late to drastically change your life, but remain free. In India, or, for example, in Africa, such decorations on the face are by no means considered something out of the ordinary. Of course, you won't be able to walk around freely with unusual patterns on your face in any city in Europe, there's no such tolerance for appearance here, but we can simply change the lines of your mouth and eyes using so-called subcutaneous patterns. You'll lose your resemblance to yourself, but at the same time, your face will remain almost completely intact. How do you like that idea? Why are you silent? Is it only because I haven't pulled that disgusting pear out of your mouth, or do you have nothing to say? Well, Fran;ois, my dear, we can't torment the King any longer, he wants to take a deep breath and tell us his opinion of us and our actions. Attention, there's going to be a storm. Be careful, Your Majesty, I'm taking out the gag.

LXXXII. The King's Wrath

As soon as d'Artagnan removed the gag from the King's mouth, Louis burst into monstrous abuse.
- Captain! - he said. - You had the audacity to kidnap me, and then you imagine that you can allow yourself to lecture me?! You are a state criminal, you should be executed! Know then, whether you kill me now or later, or take me to prison, the Lord will punish you, as well as the earthly court! I call down upon your head all the thunder of heaven!
After this, His Majesty Louis XIV allowed himself a number of very long epithets, which our pen resolutely refuses to convey. In the last turns of the King's speech, he spoke of the captain's pedigree, as well as of his resemblance to the inhabitants of that part of the afterlife with which the religions of all countries frighten their peoples, vainly trying to make them kinder and nobler from this.
At the King's last words, d'Artagnan shook his head and again put the gag in Louis's mouth.
“You are quite right, Your Majesty,” he agreed, “however, I must note that you have completely ignored the information I had the honor of communicating to you before you began your speech. If you do not object, we will ride in silence for a while. I see you do not object. In an hour we will arrive at the house of my Indian friend. Think once and for all what you choose - a tattoo or lifelong imprisonment. I must remind you that the order of Philippe, your brother, who continues to rule under the name of Louis XIV, did not give you this choice, so by offering it, I am committing another rebellion, but I am accustomed to it. I forgot to tell you that your brother’s name is Louis-Philippe, and also the fact that, according to the laws of France, twins have equal rights, so he has every right to be called Louis XIV, both by human laws and by the laws of God.
Louis looked angrily at d'Artagnan, then turned away to the window.
“Really, Your Majesty, you should not be angry with me for my disobedience!” he said. “For if I had been obedient and had shown no initiative, I would not have even taken the trouble to reflect. And in that case I would simply not have guessed what the Bishop of Vannes had done to you. You would have remained in the Bastille – at best! Frankly, Fouquet alone could not have gotten you out of there. How would it have ended? I had the order for his arrest in my pocket. Fortune would have favored Fouquet only if he had been an ally of Monsieur d’Herblay. And since he rejected d’Herblay’s actions and even tried to hinder their outcome, how could it all have ended? Let us reflect together. The conspirator d’Herblay, together with his involuntary accomplice, the Baron du Valon, who was simply misled, departs for the island of Belle- Ile, subdues the fortress and awaits pursuit. But no persecution takes place. The Bishop sends his trusted men to find out what is going on, and finds that there is absolutely no upheaval or trouble in the Kingdom. Everyone thinks that the King is still on the throne, although he may be acting a little strangely and inconsistently, but who would think of blaming him? The Bishop understands that Fouquet's attempt to restore you to the throne has failed, calmly returns to Paris, or, if your brother is still in Vaux -le -Vicomte, arrives there, apologizes for his absence for a couple of days, explaining it by urgent business, and then takes his place as adviser on all important matters to Philippe, whom everyone considers Louis XIV, that is, you. You remain in the Bastille, and no one responds to your admonitions, because General de Bezmo, the commandant of the Bastille, is firmly convinced that you are none other than the unfortunate madman Marchiali, who imagines that he is the King of France, and who only vaguely resembles the King in appearance, but in order not to embarrass anyone, there are strict orders not to show his face to anyone, for which purpose he must wear a mask every time food is brought to him or excrement is carried out from his cell. This would continue until your brother decides that your existence is too dangerous. And he, having sat in your place and accustomed to the fact that he is the King of France, would soon be able to begin to think in political categories, identifying the danger to himself personally with the danger to all of France. And so, in the name of France, he decides to finally secure himself against your return. How this can be put into practice, I believe, you understand quite well. This is the fate that would have awaited Your Majesty if I had been a completely obedient, uninitiated and unaccustomed to reasoning captain of Your Majesty's musketeers. I know you will say that your situation now is little different from the one I have described to you. You will not say so, because you cannot speak, but you wanted to say it. Well, I have something to say in response. The first time you found yourself in such an unattractive position because your completely legal and justified actions did not please the Bishop of Vannes, who decided that it would be better for him to take advantage of the situation and replace you with your obedient brother. In that case, you would have suffered without guilt, without cause, simply because Fate played a cruel joke on you. You would have been in no way involved in such a development of events! It is very offensive, Your Majesty, to suffer without guilt! Now the matter is different. You have risen up against a man who had a weapon in his hands to defend himself and his friends from your wrath. Who made you do this, except for wounded pride?! Well, revenge is a pleasant pastime, but a monarch must foresee the consequences of his decisions. You have committed an injustice against me and my friends, and from a human perspective this is very cruel. But the King may consider himself above ethical standards, above morality, since he has something more significant as the goals of his actions - the good of the state! For the sake of the good of the state, one can commit any meanness against individual citizens of this state, and since the good of the state is based on the strength of royal power, then, as it turns out, the King can commit any meanness against any of his subjects, even simply to protect his person. It is offensive, cruel, but, in any case, logical! But a King who is unable to foresee the consequences of decisions, who makes decisions that lead to his collapse, such a King makes too serious a mistake, an unforgivable blunder. So, your actions were worse than meanness, it was a mistake. You have behaved not only as an unjust man, but, what is much worse for the King, as a short-sighted politician. One must not offend those who are capable of avenging themselves! Mazarin understood this, and Richelieu understood it. Machiavelli wrote that if one is to offend someone strong, then only in such a way that he cannot rise up. One cannot offend and preserve the power of the offended. If one is to offend, then crush him once and for all. Read Machiavelli at your leisure, Your Majesty. One should always reward less than one can, so that the recipient does not get the feeling that he can get nothing more from his sovereign. The sovereign who has given all that he could give has at that moment lost his friend, since this friend no longer hopes for anything. But one must always offend as best one can, especially when it comes to a strong man. You thought me weak, Your Majesty, you thought that I would tolerate such mockery of me, and all this - after I pulled you out of such a mess, from which no one would have ever pulled you out, if the Bishop of Vannes had not encountered such a man as your captain of the king's musketeers. I am not weak, Your Majesty! I have teeth, and, as you have seen, I can bite, and very painfully! And the fact that I did not show them speaks not of my weakness, but of my patience. And finally, I will say that my willfulness can only serve you in the future for your benefit. I have been ordered to bury you alive in a fortress from which you will never be able to escape, either on your own or with the help of any friends. Well, I really do not want to carry out this order. If I were an obedient and unthinking captain of the Musketeers, I would do as I am ordered. But I am riding and racking my brains to see how I can treat you in such a way as not to endanger myself and my friends, but also not to treat Your Majesty in such an unworthy, unbecoming manner! You see, I still have great respect for your origin. And I will do everything in my power to ensure that you do not spend the rest of your years in a cramped cell in a fortress-prison. All this is purely out of disobedience, Your Majesty.
After this, d'Artagnan fell silent significantly.

LXXXIII. Francois

After half an hour of silence, the captain turned to Fran;ois.
- By the way, my friend, you were going to explain to me why your mother doesn’t like the Gascon character.
"Oh, it's a very simple story, captain!" replied Fran;ois. "My mother's husband was thirty-five years her senior, and she never loved him, and she entered into the marriage under duress from her guardian, since her parents were dead by that time.
“Well, that happens, but as I see it, the difference in age did not prevent the worthy Monsieur de Perrin from making such a fine fellow as you are,” said the captain with a smile.
"My mother's husband had nothing to do with my birth," Fran;ois objected. "She had a young and frisky boyfriend. It was from him that she gave birth to me."
- Well, let's not blame her, - said d'Artagnan. - If a man takes a wife thirty-five years younger than himself, he should be prepared for such a turn of events. I would understand a difference of thirty years... But thirty-five is too much! And if his wife didn't like his character so much, then things are in shambles.
“As for the Gascon character, it was precisely the character of this young friend who, as I have already said, was my father that irritated her,” Fran;ois objected.
“And he, this lover of hers, did he beat her, or did he often cheat on her?” asked the captain.
"Neither one nor the other," answered Fran;ois. "He simply had an affair with her, and then one fine day he jumped on his horse and rode off to conquer Paris."
“There’s nothing strange about that, because you did the same thing, didn’t you?” asked the captain.
“Perhaps, but I have never impregnated any woman from Gascony before!” Fran;ois replied.
"How can you be sure of that?" asked d'Artagnan with a grin.
“It’s just that I remember all my days and all my nights,” answered Fran;ois, “At least those that I didn’t spend alone.”
"Well, you have a good memory, son," the captain smiled. "I had the same one when I was your age."
- In that case, you probably remember Vevienne. "Fezensac?" asked Fran;ois.
- Vevienne "Fezensac? Little Vivienne?!" the captain cried. "My God! Of course I remember! But your name, I think, is de Perrin," the captain was surprised.
“My mother was widowed long before I was born, and this is the name of my mother’s second husband, who adopted me and under whom she registered me,” Fran;ois answered simply.
- So you are Vevienne's son. "Fezansac?" asked the captain. "And what was your father's name?"
“His name was Charles de Castelmore, sir,” replied Fran;ois.
- Damn it! Vivienne's son! How old are you? - cried d'Artagnan.
“Twenty-two, sir captain, I just turned twenty-two,” answered Fran;ois.
- Exactly! Thunder strike me! Fran;ois! Embrace your father! - exclaimed the captain.
"This one?" Fran;ois asked incredulously, pointing with his hand at the tied up King.
- Yes, me, me, damn you! - cried d'Artagnan. - Why, I called on your mother for old times' sake, about twenty-three years ago! Damn it! I don't regret it at all! Fran;ois, my dear! That's why they find us so alike!
“It seems to me that your nose, Mr. Captain, is much larger than mine…” Fran;ois said slyly.
“Go to hell!!!” d’Artagnan said cheerfully, hugged his son and laughed so hard that the carriage shook.
"You know what, sir?" the captain said to Louis. "By God, on such an occasion I would let you go wherever you want, and let it all go to hell!"
Louis looked hopefully into the captain's eyes.
“I would be happy to let you go, I swear on my honor! But I cannot,” the captain said sadly. “First, you will be killed by those spies who are probably following us. And if they do not kill you, then your brother Philippe will be killed. I do not like either of these outcomes. If they do not kill you both, then so many people will die in civil wars in France that it would be better for me to strangle you myself with these very hands. So, I cannot agree to this. Secondly, if I release you, and you return to the throne, then you will execute both me and my son, and I am not used to losing sons when I have barely found them. You know, sons are not thrown away, they are not some kind of kittens. But taking you to the fortress of the island of Saint-Marguerite would be extremely stupid. There is only one thing left.” As much as I regret to part with Fran;ois, having just found him, and as much as I regret to part with you, Your Majesty, while you are so sweetly silent, I will nevertheless allow myself to leave you for a while and entrust you to my son. Fran;ois, my dear, from now on you are Captain d'Artagnan, who is carrying his prisoner, the Abb; d'Herblay, to the fortress on the island of Saint-Marguerite. At the nearest convenient place I will leave you and arrange a small ambush for those who are riding behind us, and they are riding, you can be sure of that. When I know who they are and how many of them there are, we will decide what to do. If I do not catch up with you, we will meet in Lyons, at the Silver Sword inn.

D'Artagnan's mood could perhaps be conveyed by the following song:

The empire is shaken again
The King has secretly changed in it.
But still, as before, I don’t believe,
That he played his role correctly.

Fraud, intrigue and tricks
They change the fate of empires.
I would like to throw all this out of my life,
I've seen all this in my grave!

Throwing majesties off their thrones,
Believe me, there is no way!
But what should I come up with?
When friends are under attack?

King by the laws of the Almighty
Placed above us forever.
Just don't do anything extra,
If only there were at least a little bit of a human being.

If only he wasn't a callous machine,
Sucking the blood of its subjects,
And I wouldn't be a vile beast,
Stealing someone else's love.

I have never seen a better outcome,
How to remove both the sting and the poison!
The king, like a pitiful scarecrow
Swaddled, kidnapped, confiscated.

And here I am, a cruel jailer
I'm taking him away from the yard,
And tears flow down those cheeks,
Which it's time to hide.

So what's wrong with being in a depressed mood?
Am I sad like a child?
I'll leave these intrigues to you,
I don't want to live like this anymore!

LXXXIV. Something about seafood

As our dear readers will probably remember, we left Porthos with du Chante near the little-known town of Cannes. D'Artagnan insisted that Porthos should definitely go to Scotland, where he would settle in the Monkville house on the banks of the River Clyde, and also summon Miss Mary Grefton from London and two or three of her aunts, if any.
Doubting that Porthos would carry out his orders exactly, the captain repeated these instructions to Lieutenant du Chante, whom he specifically asked to ensure that Porthos left France as soon as possible, considering Porthos's stay there extremely dangerous for his health.
According to the captain's instructions, Porthos and du Chante were to go to San Remo, from where they would take a ship to Barcelona. They were then to travel overland to Bilbao, from where they would sail to Scotland. The captain rightly judged that they would not meet Colbert's spies in the east, since Colbert must have received information from the King that d'Artagnan might try to reach the island of Sainte-Marguerite, whereas San Remo was much further east, where there was no point in expecting d'Artagnan.
In San Remo, du Chante left Porthos in one of the coastal taverns and begged him not to leave him under any circumstances, while the lieutenant himself headed to the coast in order to charter a ship or find another way to get on board a vessel sailing to Barcelona.
For ten whole days the lieutenant was unable to find a suitable ship; finally, one fine day, returning to the tavern, du Chante announced to Porthos that they were sailing that evening.
“ Let’s have some refreshment before the journey!” said Porthos, and ordered the innkeeper to bring him everything edible he had.
“I wouldn’t advise eating too much,” du Chante noted, “the sea is expected to be rough, and we can’t wait until we set sail.”
"Nonsense!" replied Porthos. "A good snack never did me any harm."
However, when a dish of rice with some strange pieces between it was placed in front of Porthos, the baron was quite surprised by the appearance of the dish offered.
"What have you brought me, you swindler?" he asked suspiciously of the boy setting the table.
"It's a rice and seafood dish," the boy replied. "The owner said that you've used up all your other supplies in the last ten days because the meat suppliers can't keep up with your appetites. But it's very good food, don't worry."
- Explain to me, my little one, what exactly are these pieces that I see here among the ordinary rice porridge that the peasants eat?
“These are exquisite oysters, shrimp, pieces of octopus and squid,” the boy answered.
- Outrageous! - exclaimed Porthos. - In these seaside towns they feed you whatever you can get your hands on! No wonder there are so few people here! What kind of fool would come to this San Remo of yours, where honest Catholics are fed some kind of Chinese sea beetles!
After this, Porthos cautiously tried a piece of shrimp, but found it very tasty. Then he decided to try an oyster, and found it quite edible. Having tasted a piece of octopus, he considered it a little more elastic and tasteless than it should have been, but not at all worse than mutton. Having thus convinced himself that he was apparently not offered such a disgusting meal as one might consider it from its appearance, he took the largest spoon he found on the table and began to scoop up the porridge and seafood mixture straight from the pot, sending it all into his mouth and washing it down with Tokay wine. Having eaten his fill, he considered himself ready for the sea voyage.
Two hours later, a small schooner carried Porthos and du Chante towards Barcelona. The pitching was, as the lieutenant had warned, quite strong, but at first Porthos did not pay any attention to it, standing on the deck and looking into the distance with interest.
After a while he thought that perhaps du Chante had been right in some way when he said that before a sea voyage it was advisable to curb one's appetites a little.
An hour of such rocking finally convinced him of the rightness of du Chante, since Porthos had difficulty in making peace with his stomach.
Half an hour later, the stomach broke this truce and declared hostilities against its owner, and on two fronts at once.
Tired of the struggle for his serene existence and having completely lost both battles, both on the upper and lower ranges, Porthos dreamed only of the ship landing at even the tiniest island in all four oceans of the world, just to get at least a short respite from the pitching, during which he could resume peace negotiations with his own body.
Observing the signs of the giant's deplorable state of mind, the lieutenant agreed with the need to give the baron a dry rest at the first opportunity.
Since Cap d'Antibes was already far behind, the nearest land that could provide the baron with the means to conclude a truce was the island of Saint-Marguerite.
The captain of the vessel ordered the ship to be steered to the eastern end of the island, after which two sailors jumped ashore, picked up the ends of the ropes thrown to them and tied them securely to two projections of the rocky shore. As soon as the light ladder was lowered, Porthos was the first to jump down it to the shore and hid in the nearest bushes to get rid of traces of seafood in his body, also using both routes of evacuation of the resistance forces.
Du Chante had been delayed, discussing with the captain the best time to set out on their journey, so that when he finally stepped ashore, Porthos met him in a relatively elevated mood. In any case, he was convinced that he had concluded not a fragile truce with his stomach, but a firm and unbreakable peace.
“If, Baron, you have recovered your health, we can soon sail on,” he said to Porthos.
- No, no way! - Porthos objected. - I need at least an hour to return to my previous state and be ready for further torture with water and wind!
“It seems to me, however, that you have already rested and look very well,” du Chante said doubtfully.
- Looks are deceiving, my dear! - Porthos sighed. - I still feel weak. Do you see that stone? - with these words, Porthos pointed to one of the huge stones lying on the shore.
"Do you want to lie down on it and rest?" asked du Chante.
- No! - Porthos waved his hand. - If I were full of strength, I would certainly have turned it over as a warm-up. But now, as soon as I think about it, a strange feeling rises in my throat, which tells me that I have not yet freed my body from all the remains of the octopus. Never eat octopus, my friend! - he added instructively. - The sea, apparently, does not want to part with its, forgive me, seafood. Therefore, it demanded their return from me, which I could not argue with for long.
“It seems to me that it is not only the sea that has demanded its tribute from you, Baron,” replied du Chante with ill-concealed irony.
“ The stunted bushes that have managed to grow on this poor soil will be grateful to me for that,” Porthos waved his hand. “But I am also grateful to them for the shelter they have provided. That is what I call mutual assistance! However, the task of improving my health requires that I take a short walk along the island. Will you accompany me, dear du Chante?”
"Well, let's go, Baron," agreed du Chante. "A walk around the island will be more pleasant than just sitting on these wet rocks and waiting for your full recovery."
"Look at the magnificent fort on the northern part of the island!" said Porthos, who was beginning to regain his usual good humor. "This fortress would be suitable for the defense of the island, but it was built on the wrong side. After all, the island belongs to France, and the fortress was built on the French side.
“I suppose that this island was not once French, and this explains why the fortress was built on the side that faces the French coast,” replied du Chante.
"We don't need to guess!" said Porthos. "We can look into this fortress and ask the commandant what the history of this fortress is. After all, I myself took part in the design of military fortifications and even supervised the construction according to the drawings developed with my participation, so it will be of interest to me to get to know the fortress better."
“Well, I hope they’ll let us in and show us what you’re interested in,” du Chante replied.
- Why not let us in? - Porthos was surprised. - After all, the fortress is French, and you and I are citizens of France, and military men, too!
“We’ll need to prove we’re not spies,” du Chante said doubtfully.
“I always have evidence of this kind with me!” Porthos answered proudly, patting his trusty sword, which he preferred never to part with.

As Porthos and du Chante approached the fortress, a guard came out to meet them and looked at them carefully.
"What are you doing here, gentlemen? What do you want?" he asked.
" I am Lieutenant du Chante, we are sailing on a small cabotage route on the ship " Magalie " and decided to make a short stop," replied du Chante. "And this is my fellow traveler, Baron du Valon."
"I am a little tired of the rolling, Sergeant, and decided to take a two-hour break from sailing. If you do not mind, we would like to pay our respects to the commandant of the fortress, Monsieur de Saint-Mars."
“Do you know Monsieur de Saint- Mars?” asked the sergeant.
- Of course! - Porthos grinned. - After all, we are former colleagues! When I read the name of the fortress, I remembered that I knew its commandant and recalled his name, that's all! Once upon a time, both he and the Marquis de Besmo served as musketeers for de Treville! It was a great time! So if Monsieur de Saint-Mars is so kind as to come out to us or invite us to come in, our time on the island will be spent both profitably and pleasantly. Contemplating leaden waves tires a traveler; one wants to look at something more stable, like, for example, these fortress walls.
"I will report you to the commandant, he will most likely receive you," the sergeant replied. "You are extremely lucky. If you had arrived a few days earlier, we would not have allowed you to come closer than a musket shot to the fortress," the sergeant replied.
"Would you shoot your compatriots who showed no signs of aggression?" du Chante was surprised.
“What can you do! That was the King’s order,” the sergeant replied.
"Our glorious King always wants to kill me," muttered Porthos, when the sergeant had disappeared behind the fortress doors. "He almost succeeded once, damn it! If I were him, I'd calm down already! No, really, if he doesn't like me so much, maybe he'll challenge me to a duel, and then we'll see whose side fortune is on?"
“Monsieur du Valon, I believe that in this case the order was not directed against you personally, but against anyone who might attempt to make contact with the prisoner,” du Chante whispered to him.
"Monsieur Baron du Valon!" exclaimed de Saint-Mars, who appeared at that moment at the doors of the fortress. "Come in, come in, I am very glad! Dinner will soon be ready."
“Thank you, Monsieur de Saint-Mars, I think I’ll skip dinner today, ” said Porthos, turning slightly pale. “Do you have any tea? Just some strong tea? Say, twenty-five to thirty degrees?”
“There is a ‘boche’,” replied de Saint-Mars.
- I don't know what this is, but from the name I feel that this is exactly what I need to negotiate with my stomach! Thank you, Mr. Commandant!

“You know, you are incredibly lucky to have arrived now, and not a few days earlier,” said de Saint-Mars, pouring Porthos a bochet with a generous hand.
"What exactly is our luck?" Porthos asked after he had thanked the commandant with a nod and had drained the contents of the goblet in one gulp.
- We had a very inconvenient prisoner here. There was an order to exclude any communication with him.
“And you would really have shot at us if we had come closer than we were supposed to?” Porthos was surprised.
"Orders are not to be discussed," replied de Saint-Mars, shrugging his shoulders and refilling Porthos's cup. "I believe that this prisoner was a person of great rank. It was probably the Duke of Beaufort, or perhaps Superintendent of Finances Fouquet. I would not venture to speculate, but since the prisoner is no longer under my responsibility, I have been relieved of all restrictions on this matter.
"Why did you decide that it was the Duke de Beaufort or Superintendent Fouquet?" asked du Chante.
“He was the kind of prisoner who should have been called monsignor,” said the commandant.
"Monsieur d'Herblay should also be addressed as Monseigneur," Porthos noted. "He is a clergyman. I hope he was not your prisoner."
"I think not," agreed Saint-Mars. "After all, Monsieur d'Artagnan, who took him away two days ago, would not have called him Monseigneur to his friend d'Herblay," replied de Saint-Mars. "However, such an address was expressly prescribed in the King's order, which Monsieur d'Artagnan showed me, and, by the way, left with me to keep records of this matter."
- D'Artagnan? So he took him? That is to say, I mean, he came to you? - asked Porthos. - Wait a minute, is your fortress called Pignerol? I read the name "Royal Fort" at the entrance, and so I remembered that I once heard that you served as commandant of this very fortress.
- That's right, dear Baron! - agreed de Saint-Mars. - Pignerol. It's a service name for correspondence.
- But this is a place in the north of Italy! - Porthos was surprised. - And there, it seems to me, there is a fortress there with the same name.
“It is precisely for these reasons, so that the prisoner is not exactly aware of where exactly he is being taken, that service names are used, which sometimes coincide with the names of other territories,” answered de Saint-Mars.
“And I was wondering, why send secret criminals so far?” Porthos answered with a nod.
 "Indeed, His Majesty would not send state criminals to a fortress outside France," said de Saint-Mars, and added with a smile, "Do you think that we do not have enough prisons of our own? You need not worry about that, dear Baron. If it were necessary to imprison all the nobles of the kingdom, there would be enough casemates."
"I recognize the foresight of Cardinal Richelieu!" Porthos grinned. "He built enough of them, and also converted the fortresses into prisons. What did you say this drink was called?"
"Boche," replied de Saint-Mars, refilling Porthos's cup. "In the official documents, this fortress is called Pignerol for reasons of... Well, in a word, that's what it's called in the King's orders. Cardinal Richelieu, whom you just mentioned, deliberately invented this code system of second names for fortresses in the orders in order to... Well, in a word, to confuse those who shouldn't know it. But Captain d'Artagnan understands this system like the straps of his saddle, that is to say, with his eyes closed he can find any fortress in France, either on a map or on the ground, and you won't confuse him with these names.
- Yes, you are right! Let us drink to our glorious captain d'Artagnan, may good fortune accompany him! - exclaimed Porthos. - However, my cup seems to be empty again, - he said sadly.
“We’ll fix that now,” replied de Saint-Mars, about to pour Porthos another drink.
"No, thank you, that's enough for today," Porthos declined the tempting offer. "Today I must treat my body a little more gently than usual. However, I will perhaps knock back half a glass for Captain d'Artagnan, with your permission, but this is definitely the last one for today!"
A few minutes later, Porthos and du Chante, having dined and thanked the commandant, got ready to leave.
"You are a fine man, Monsieur de Saint-Mars!" said Porthos, rising from the table. "I thank you with all my heart for your hospitality! Come to Pierrefonds sometime, and we will hunt wild boar or roe deer together."
"My home is here now, sir, and I am not supposed to leave the fortress," de Saint-Mars said sadly. "Such joys as meeting former comrades-in-arms do not happen often. It is I who should thank you for your visit."
— The captain and I have made good use of your supplies, and I would like to...
“Don’t worry, Baron, this is not an inn, and they won’t charge you for your stay,” replied de Saint-Mars.
“But we have put you to such expense!” objected Porthos.
— My former prisoner was given a very good allowance, and Monsieur d'Artagnan informed me that this allowance would not be suspended, although he had taken the prisoner. In all likelihood, he will soon be brought back, but in the meantime I can, with a clear conscience, use part of the supplies to treat my good comrades-in-arms. At least my conscience will be appeased by the fact that I am spending state money not only on myself, but also on you, because if you have visited a fortress belonging to the King, then you are the King's guests! And it is not proper for the King to take money for food from his guests.
- Thank you, dear Monsieur de Saint-Mars, thank you for everything. We should probably go.
- Why are you sailing at night? Spend the night in the fortress, and sail away at dawn! - suggested de Saint-Mars.
"To tell the truth, we should not remain long on dry land. Such is the order of those who sent us," Porthos said uncertainly.
"Well, it's not exactly dry land, it's an island," de Saint-Mars objected. "We could play a game or two of ombre or carom."
- I really don't know! What do you say about this, du Chante? - asked du Valon.
"We have a whole crew on board," replied du Chante. "We would be too much of a nuisance to the Commandant."
- Do not bother me at all, I would say, lieutenant, if I were a civilian, but here, unfortunately, you are right. I have no right to receive more than two or three people in the fortress without special permission. Do not misunderstand me. But you can spend the night on the ship or camp on the shore, it is still better than sailing in such weather. It seems to me that there will be a storm tonight. And if the baron is tired of contemplating the waves, I can offer him and you, lieutenant, a rest in the fortress, - suggested de Saint-Mars.
“Do you think the rolling will get worse?” Porthos asked anxiously. “The devil take this seafood! My advice to you, Monsieur de Saint-Mars, is never eat octopus. In any form. And oysters and shrimps too. Not a crumb!”
"I will warn the captain that we are spending the night on the island," said de Chante. "Stay in the fortress, Baron, and I will spend the night on the ship. Goodbye!"
After this, du Chante resolutely headed towards the stationary ship, and de Saint-Mars took Porthos by the arm with the words:
“I was recently taught a very interesting card game, but it requires at least four partners, and I, not counting those who are on duty or resting after a night shift, never have four people!”
“I understand,” said Porthos. “On the whole, I can stand the seas well, sir, I assure you. But these damned octopuses! They are so treacherous!”

LXXXV. Collections of de Trabu;on

Arriving home, de Trabu;on proudly laid out his patent as captain of the royal guard in front of his wife.
"Mr. Colbert personally awarded me this title!" he declared.
- What, Didier?! Skipping the rank of lieutenant and senior lieutenant, you went from junior lieutenant to captain in one fell swoop? - Madame Olivia de Trabu;on was surprised, as she was well versed in military ranks, and more.
- I have held all these ranks in succession. Mr. Colbert issued me patents for these ranks, and then tore them up, replacing them with patents for a higher rank, - Captain de Trabu;on said proudly. - Your Didier is still capable of something! And, by the way, Senior Lieutenant d'Elsorte is now my subordinate! And besides, Lieutenant de Lortie! They have already been warned and are preparing for the trip. Tomorrow morning we are leaving with them on a campaign, most likely to Cannes.
- Ugh! To Cannes! - Madame Olivia de Trabu;on pouted. - I could go with you if you were sent to a more decent place. By the way, no one tore up your junior lieutenant's patent! It can be sold!
“I don’t think that’s right,” de Trabu;on answered doubtfully.
- Think about it! If a constable, or a captain of musketeers, or a marshal, or a commandant of a fortress resigns, he can pass his position on to his son, or sell it, - Madame Olivia continued to convince her husband.
“But I’m not resigning!” exclaimed Didier.
"You are leaving this position, whether because you resigned or because you received a new position. The old patent is also good. You can pass it on to your son, or, for example, to me," Madame Olivia concluded.
- What the hell do you need him for? - Didier was surprised. - Do you want to create a women's battalion? - At these words, Didier burst out laughing, imagining how warriors with figures like Madame Olivia would jump on their horses.
“I can also ride a horse and get money and titles for it!” Olivia said proudly.
“What you can get is a good beating from me, right here and now,” Didier replied.
- Easy, buddy! - Olivia protested playfully. - Look, here it is, your patent for a second lieutenant. It says here that the patent gives the right to the rank of second lieutenant, and that the recipient of the patent is called Didier de Trabu;on. As your wife, I am also called Madame Didier de Trabu;on. So this patent may well be considered issued in my name!
“The only difference is that women are not accepted into the guard, Madame ‘Second Lieutenant Didier de Trabu;on’!” Didier mimicked his wife.
- Okay, okay, I was joking. But I can go with you as your accompanying spouse! Although Cannes is so boring!
“I’m not going to drag women around with me,” Didier snapped.
"Tell me, dear Didier, only tell the truth, because I can see very well in your eyes when you are lying," said Madame Olivia, taking her husband by the chin. "Are you going to war or to spy?"
“I’m an officer, not a spy,” muttered Didier, looking away.
- Do you want to convince me that the de facto head of government, Intendant of Finances Colbert, promotes ordinary officers who shed blood for the King at the front two ranks? - smiled Madame Olivia. - Don't lie to me, you don't know how to do that. Not to me. You can deceive anyone, but not me, no, don't hope so.
“Of course, I’m not going to run into the attack with a sword…” muttered Didier.
- You men are fools! Do you think that an officer who is used to marching in formation and riding at a straight line, which is equivalent to having "King's Guard" written on him in three-foot letters, can become a good spy? - Olivia sneered. - Your Colbert does not understand anything about the business of obtaining information if he entrusts this matter to such blockheads as you, dear Didier.
- You bastard! Am I the idiot!? By the way, I am the captain of the royal guard! - Didier was indignant.
"Okay, I have nothing against the minister who promotes my husband to captain. But I want to help you, silly!" Olivia said in such a sweet voice that Didier was ready to admit that not only "silly" but also "blockhead" were very affectionate words.
“Okay, okay, I’ll think about it,” Didier replied condescendingly, after which he hastened to prove to Olivia that, having become a captain, he had not ceased to be her husband.

The next morning, Trabu;on learned that Colbert could not provide him with an order for the surrender of the prisoner of the fortress of Pignerol signed by the King. For some unknown reason, the King had stopped signing Colbert's papers without looking at them. He read each paper carefully and signed only if he fully approved of it. Very often, he began to ask questions about the reasons for the need to sign this or that paper. Colbert realized that an order to remove a prisoner who had not yet been placed there would look very suspicious, the King might decide that Colbert was plotting some kind of conspiracy, so he cleverly removed this order from the pile of papers prepared for signing, after which he himself wrote a note at the bottom: "In pursuance of the will of the King of France, I hereby confirm: Intendant of Finances Jean-Baptiste Colbert."
Colbert did not know that, according to the King's order, no orders other than those signed personally by the King were valid in relation to this prisoner.

As soon as he had received his orders, M. de Trabu;on, accompanied by d'Elsorte and de Lortie, set out on the trail of d'Artagnan's carriage. With a heavy heart, he allowed Madame Olivia to go with them, at first intending to explain to the two officers that he had taken her so that she could visit her sister near Cannes, but in the end he decided not to explain anything to them. "I am their superior!" he said to himself. "Both I and they must get used to the fact that my decisions do not require justification or explanation; their business is to accept my decisions and obey them!"

LXXXVI. Gotan Kumar

At the edge of a small village stood a hut, blown by all the winds. D'Artagnan jumped off his horse and entered the hut without knocking.
- Peace be with you, Gotan. “Kumar,” he said to the almost completely naked, dark and thin old man who was sitting motionless in a strange pose in the center of the room.
The old man looked at d'Artagnan and again became immersed in self-contemplation.
- I regret to distract you from your self-contemplation. The matter brooks no delay. It is necessary to change a person's face beyond recognition, while acting as delicately as possible, without offending dignity.
The old man looked at the captain's mustache and beard.
- Thank you, my friend, but this will not do. No, it is not he who wants to hide from people, but it is necessary to make it so that he cannot look like himself and cannot restore his appearance. Therefore, a moustache and a beard do not solve the problem. Besides, he already has a goatee and a moustache. Approximately like mine.
The old man made a circular movement with his eyes.
- Big warts all over the face? - he burst out laughing. - Perhaps that is too cruel for our case. No, I beg you, we need a more delicate solution. I warn you in advance: we will not cut off ears, lips and noses, pierce cheeks and sew in rings either. He is a European, a Frenchman. He will have to live with it!
The old man rolled his eyes to the sky and then turned his gaze back to himself.
"A large round dot above the bridge of the nose?" d'Artagnan wondered. "Well, that's constructive, but I'm afraid it's not enough. One can imagine a situation where this measure would only create minor obstacles to something that should never be allowed, but such obstacles can be overcome. No, that won't do," d'Artagnan rejected the old man's new proposal.
The old man looked from side to side.
"A dotted tattoo around the contour of the eyes and lips, if done by a high-class specialist, can significantly change the overall appearance of the face. But I'm afraid that this will also not be enough," d'Artagnan answered again.
The old man made circular movements with his eyes, first in one direction, then in the other.
“Covering your entire face with patterns would certainly be a solution, but how would such a person live in an ordinary European country?” asked d’Artagnan.
The old man closed his eyes and opened them again.
"Send them to the colonial countries. I'll think about it," d'Artagnan agreed doubtfully.
The old man raised one eyebrow.
“I was also glad to see you, but I’m not leaving yet,” d’Artagnan nodded. “I need the substance that makes the patterns. Well, the same one that you inject under the skin. I’ll take some. Where is it?”
The old man pointed with his eyes to one of the shelves in the corner of the room.
- The devil himself would break his leg here! - exclaimed d'Artagnan. - This one? - he asked the old man, pointing to one of the jars. - Or this one? Or that one? This one. I see. Is that certain?
Having opened the jar, which the old man pointed to with some special expression in his eyes, the captain touched the substance inside it, smelled it and touched it again.
- I appreciate your humor, dear Gotan. "Kumar," he said, "but I'm in no mood for jokes now, and I'm in a hurry. What the hell do I need ordinary gunpowder for?"
The old man closed his eyes, after which he looked into the captain's eyes with dignity.
- Not gunpowder? How could it not be gunpowder, when it has the structure, the color, the smell, - the captain sniffed the mysterious powder more carefully again, - well, the smell. No, it's definitely gunpowder! You claim it's nothing like that? Damn it, but I can see it's gunpowder. No, what are you saying, I believe you! But I want to check. Just a minute.
The captain turned and headed towards the exit of the hut.
“I don’t advise you to spoil your musket,” the old man said calmly.
"So you haven't meditated?" cried d'Artagnan.
“No,” answered the one the captain called Gotan. Kumar.
“Why the hell didn’t you talk to me then?” the captain asked in surprise.
— I wanted to train you once again to understand the language of the eyes.
- Okay, fine, you win. So it's not gunpowder? Sure?
"You were going to load this potion into a musket and try to fire it. In that case, your musket can be thrown away after that," Gotan answered calmly. Kumar.
- But that's impossible! The smell and the color! Everything is exactly like gunpowder! - the captain was surprised again.
"And the taste too, if you tried it on your tongue," the old man clarified. "It's an ancient potion, specially disguised by its properties as gunpowder. It was used in the times when China was at war with India."
“Why do you need it here?” asked the captain.
“There was an opportunity to bring it, I brought it,” answered Gotan. Kumar.
“How much of this potion do you have?” asked the captain.
“The jar you’re holding,” the old man replied.
- I'll take everything. Do you mind?
“Krishna sent, Krishna took, Krishna will send what is needed, Krishna will not send if it is not needed,” the old man answered calmly.
“Well then, Krishna asked me to give you five pistoles,” said d’Artagnan and put the money on the shelf from which he had taken the potion.
The old man changed his position and closed his eyes.
D'Artagnan closed the doors of the hut and left, taking with him a tin can filled to the brim with a substance strikingly reminiscent of gunpowder.

LXXXVII. Four Guardsmen

Colbert was pondering over one of his projects when a major of the royal guards, Count de Chuzeau, came to him unannounced.
“Monsieur Colbert,” said the major after the guest and host had exchanged the appropriate greetings, “your position with His Majesty is most enviable, but…”
"My position, sir, can in no way be called a position with His Majesty," objected Colbert, "since I am neither a favorite nor a favorite, but a minister. My position is thus defined not in relation to the King, but in relation to the government. Well, by the grace of His Majesty, I am currently heading this government."
“Thus, you find it possible to issue patents to my guardsmen and send them to unknown destinations for unknown purposes,” said the major, although still excited, but already more calmly.
— Clarification. You said that I find it possible. I will answer that I find it necessary, — answered Colbert.
“In that case, perhaps you will consider it possible, or, forgive me, necessary, to issue patents for the major of the royal guard as well?” the major asked, his tone becoming sharper again.
“I don’t rule it out,” Colbert answered calmly.
"Don't take this as impertinence, but should you interfere in the affairs of the royal guard?" the major asked, trying to speak in a completely calm tone, realizing that he was losing this battle.
"I will cease to interfere in this matter as soon as my intervention is no longer necessary," Colbert replied just as calmly. "Allow me to inquire, sir, where are four of your guardsmen at present, whose names are: du Bois, de Savard, de Ch;reau, and de Farcy?"
“As far as I know, these gentlemen have left for the disposal of Monsieur d’Artagnan by special order of His Majesty on this matter,” replied the major.
“This order, as far as you and I know, ordered them to assist in the delivery of certain important messages to addresses known to Monsieur d’Artagnan,” Colbert agreed. “But here’s where the small snag lies. Monsieur d’Artagnan has been back in Paris for at least a day and a half, unless he went away somewhere, and these gentlemen are not with him. How do you explain this?”
“I will inquire with Monsieur d’Artagnan about my people,” the major said, confused, realizing his mistake.
"Don't you think, Major, that you should have made inquiries yesterday, when Monsieur d'Artagnan appeared at the Louvre?" Colbert sneered. "Today, however, he has left Paris in accordance with His Majesty's new orders, and in order to make inquiries about the four guardsmen, you will need other guardsmen who will have to catch up with Monsieur d'Artagnan."
“I will correct my mistake,” the major replied in a tone that indicated an admission of guilt, at least in part.
"I have already corrected it," said Colbert coldly. "You may also be surprised to learn that, having been instructed to send out some documents, Monsieur d'Artagnan appears and announces that he has carried out a completely different task, namely, the capture of his former colleague and friend, if the word 'former' is appropriate here."
“That’s a bit strange,” the major agreed.
“It is not at all strange to me,” replied Colbert. “But there are some inconsistencies in this matter that I must clear up. For this purpose, for a state purpose, mind you, since it is a question of catching a state criminal, I have removed three guardsmen and given them special powers to carry out special assignments. As you may have noticed, I have already carried out similar actions on behalf of His Majesty before. And they also concerned the capture of this same state criminal. I am talking about Monsieur d’Herblay. Do you have any questions left, Major?”
“I recognize your right to act as you did, Mr. Colbert,” replied the major.
"When Messrs. du Bois, de Savard, de Ch;reau, and de Farcy return," Colbert continued, "and they will return very soon, send them to me immediately. Do you hear me? Immediately means that they should not change clothes, rest, drink, sleep, and, especially, communicate with any of the other guards. Immediately to me, off their horses, at once. This is a matter of national importance.
“I understand you, Mr. Minister, everything will be carried out exactly,” the major answered, coldly but calmly.
“Thank you, Major,” replied Colbert. “I won’t keep you any longer.”
And he went back to his papers.

Less than two hours later, the four guardsmen in question entered Colbert's office.
“Which of you is Monsieur du Bois?” asked Colbert, and then, glancing at the guard who had answered his name, added, “Please remain here with me and give me an account of your journey. If I find anything unclear, I will ask you to repeat it and ask you to explain it in detail, but for now, please describe your journey in general terms. But first, I ask you, Messrs. de Savard, de Ch;reau, and de Farcy, to go into these rooms. I ask you to wait until we have finished our conversation with Monsieur du Bois, and then your turn will come. Please do not be offended that I offer each of you a separate room, it is for your own good. I ask you to write down briefly what your journey consisted of. The more detailed you describe it, the less time we will spend on conversation. And you, Monsieur du Bois, I ask you to write down your report after we have had a preliminary verbal conversation. Gentlemen, I will not detain you; in the offices provided for you, you will find paper, pens and ink.

Two hours later, Colbert knew about d'Artagnan's trip in the same way that the four guards who accompanied him knew.
"So he assured them that he had gone to fetch some idiotic relics, which he then sent to the dean of Rouen Cathedral, who had never heard of such a relic. He had fooled them," Colbert reasoned. "He needed them as protection from my own people and to give importance to his mission. In fact, he had brought back from the island of Saint-Marguerite a prisoner whom he presented to the King as the Bishop of Vannes, Monsieur d'Herblay, and the King did not deny it. His Majesty had changed greatly since d'Artagnan's return or a little earlier. d'Artagnan knew this, since he had stopped hiding. Apparently, he had taken this same man to the island of Saint-Marguerite a month earlier, so this man could not be Monsieur d'Herblay, whom my people had captured at that very time... Wait a minute! They caught him trying to leave for the island of Sainte-Marguerite! Well, well!.. This man has great influence over His Majesty. Who is he? The Duke of Beaufort? Impossible! When the captain took him to Sainte-Marguerite the first time, the Duke of Beaufort was heading to the war in the fortress of Candia at the head of the French troops. It can't be Fouquet. It can't be the Prince of Cond; or Conti. Who is this man? I must see him. If de Trabu;on shoots him, it will be a disaster! But I won't have time to call him back. So de Trabu;on will shoot him only if d'Artagnan lets this man go. But he won't let him go. And it's not d'Herblay. If he leaves him in the fortress, then de Trabu;on, with my orders, will take him and bring him to Paris, tied up, with a sack over his head. Excellent. But there remains a third possibility, damn it! If d'Artagnan tries to escape with this man, then de Trabu;on will shoot them both. I should not have ordered de Trabu;on to kill this prisoner, that is my mistake! But I did not know that d'Artagnan brought this man from the island of Sainte-Marguerite! I must go there myself, and I must get there before d'Artagnan and before de Trabu;on! Is it possible? Will the King let me go? Impossible. Well, I can only wait here in Paris for news from there."
At this moment, Colbert's secretary entered his office and reported:
- Sir, a certain Auguste de Trabuson is asking to see you on urgent matter.
- Auguste de Trabu;on? - Colbert was surprised. - Let him come in.
“Your Excellency, I am the son of Captain Didier de Trabuson,” the young man introduced himself.
- Ah, is that it? Very well, young man, - answered Colbert, not understanding anything of what was happening. - What do you want?
- My mother sent me. She said to me: "Son, Mr. Colbert is sending your father on urgent and important business. You must go and give Mr. Colbert two pigeons and this note."
With these words, the young man placed a sheet of paper on the minister’s table.
“And the pigeons remained there, in the reception room, in cages, Mr. Minister,” the young man said.
Colbert unfolded the note and read the following:

“Mr. Minister, I am sending you a method of express delivery of messages which my husband learned in the service of a gentleman. These pigeons can bring urgent letters from you to my husband. One pigeon was brought from Lyon, the other from Grenoble. The pigeon from Lyon has a red thread tied to its leg, the pigeon from Grenoble has a blue thread. If Mr. Minister wishes to send any clarifications to the orders received by Captain de Trabusson, then Mr. Minister only needs to tie a small letter to the leg of one of the pigeons. These pigeons are trained to return to their dovecote by the shortest route. Carrying out the order of Mr. Minister, Captain de Trabusson took two pigeons from Paris, from a dovecote known to my son, Auguste de Trabusson. If these pigeons bring any letter from my husband, my son will deliver it to you at once, Mr. Minister. I remain your devoted Madame Olivia de Trabu;on."

Colbert looked at the note with admiration, then at the young man who delivered it and asked:
- Monsieur de Trabu;on the younger. I am very pleased to meet you. Let me ask you, why didn't your mother come to me herself with such an important message?
“She dressed up in a man’s suit, mounted a horse and rode with my father, Mr. Minister,” the young man answered.

Colbert stood up quickly and went into the reception room. There, on the floor of his reception room, he saw two cages with pigeons. Then, pointing to de Trabu;on the younger, he said to the secretary:
- Lucien! You will let this young man come to me at any time of the day or night without reporting or delay!
Then he returned to his office, pulled out a drawer of his desk, in which lay several dozen purses with money, chose the smallest of them, opened it with two fingers to make sure that it did not contain gold, but silver, after which, with a careless movement of his hand, he took this purse out of the desk and handed it to de Trabu;on the younger.
"When your father and your wise mother return, having completed the task entrusted to them both, I ask them to come to me with a report," he said to the youth. "As soon as there is news, inform me of it without the slightest delay, no matter what time it may be."

After the young man had left, Colbert sat down at the table, took a pen and a small sheet of thin paper and began to write in a small handwriting in a corner of it:

"The prisoner, whom d'Artagnan is escorting, is to be rescued and delivered alive to Paris, excluding communication with anyone. I allow Captain d'Artagnan to be killed. K."

Having cut out the written fragment, Colbert rang the bell. He said to the secretary who came in:
- Lucien, bring me a dove with a red thread on its leg.

LXXXVIII. The King

At noon, as usual, Colbert was at the King's reception to decide the most important state issues. May my readers forgive me, from now on we will allow ourselves to call Prince Philippe the King, which he has essentially already become, and for how long, our further narrative will show.
"Is there any news of Captain d'Artagnan's mission?" the King asked Colbert, signing another document, which he had carefully read before.
“ It has come to my attention, Your Majesty, that the prisoner whom Captain d’Artagnan presented as the Bishop of Vannes is not such,” replied Colbert, carefully observing the King’s reaction to this message.
"Indeed?" said the King quietly. "I cannot refute this assertion of yours, nor can I confirm it. I only put a few brief questions to this prisoner, and from his answers I could conclude that he was, in fact, Monsieur d'Herblay, although, on reflection, I am ready to admit that similar answers might have been given by another person, if he had been carefully prepared for it. But why, pray tell, would another person wish to pass himself off as Monsieur the Bishop of Vannes?"
“Such psychological incidents are known in history, Your Majesty, when some fanatic tried to pass himself off as another person, even knowing that this did not promise him any benefits, and, on the contrary, sometimes even threatened the most severe punishment,” Colbert replied.
"Do you intend to look into this mysterious situation in detail?" the King asked indifferently.
“I have already begun my little investigation, Your Majesty,” Colbert replied with a bow.
"Without my sanction?" asked the King. "Well, with God, but do not spend too much money to satisfy your curiosity. I remind you that I did not make you Intendant of Finances so that you could spend the public finances according to your whims, as your predecessor, Monsieur Fouquet, did, but for the very opposite purpose, so that you could help to strengthen the public finances. There will no longer be a Superintendent of Finances in France, since the functions of final planning of the largest expenditures will henceforth be under my control, and for those large expenditures which it will be difficult for me to sort out on my own, a financial council with advisory functions will be provided.
“I ask you to forgive me for the unauthorized expenses for this investigation, Your Majesty, however, I will note that these expenses fit into the minimum that is under my control, agreed upon with Your Majesty, necessary for organizing legality and maintaining law and order in the financial part of the state structure,” Colbert replied.
"Do you connect the activities of Captain d'Artagnan with the financial problems of the state?" asked the King, completely dispassionately.
“Very large sums have been allocated for the maintenance of the prisoner of the fortress of the island of Saint-Marguerite, as a result of which I considered it necessary to carry out an audit of these expenses,” Colbert answered meekly.
"Monsieur Colbert," said the King, as impassively as before, "your zeal is appreciated, but I would ask you to moderate it somewhat in future. The fortress on the island of Sainte-Marguerite has been specially chosen by me for the detention of prisoners of high rank. Persons who have the right to be addressed with the title of 'Monseigneur' retain this right for life, unless they are deprived of this title by my royal decision, and in no other case. This title entitles them to appropriate maintenance even if, for the good of the state, I decide to restrict the circle of such persons' contacts with other people, whether or not citizens of my country. If I find the confinement of such persons to be the only right decision, I also reserve to myself the right to decide what level of well-being I will provide for such prisoners.
"Your Majesty forbids me to control the accuracy of the execution of your orders by the captain of the king's musketeers, d'Artagnan?" asked Colbert.
“I did not say that,” the King objected. “You may control anyone who spends the royal budget, but only insofar as the expenditure is justified. However, there are secret assignments, and of course, a secret budget has been and will be approved for them, accountable only to me. And I would like to remind you that such activity of controlling the actions, but not the expenditures, of my officers is not part of your duties, and you have not been entrusted with anything like that, with the exception of that small episode when I sent him to the fortress of Belle- Ile, where you were only entrusted with ensuring the financial side of this trip. You can ask for an account of the captain’s expenditure upon his return, nothing more. Besides, this matter is finished, I put an end to it, so I urgently suggest that you return to your main duties in my government, Monsieur Colbert.”
“I will not fail to do just that, Your Majesty,” Colbert replied with a bow.
“You should know, Monsieur Colbert, that I decide for myself whom I trust to lead the Musketeers, that is to say, my principal bodyguards,” the King continued. “At the present moment, I have no reason to doubt Monsieur d’Artagnan’s loyalty. I remind you that it was he who carried out the arrest of your predecessor, Monsieur Fouquet, and that, if necessary, it is he who will carry out your arrest as well. It is probably the understanding of this fact that prevents the establishment between you and him of constructive relations of cooperation between two zealous statesmen. I am very sorry to see this. My good advice to you, Colbert. Make peace with Monsieur d’Artagnan. I need you and him equally, I am not going to choose between you.”
“As you say, Your Majesty, everything will be done exactly,” Colbert agreed and bowed to the King again.
"As for the Bishop of Van," the King continued, "I will tell you a little gossip. Let us suppose that I had good reason to be angry with a man who had many connections in the highest circles of power in European states such as Spain, England, Holland, Portugal, Venice, and even the Ottoman Empire. My anger was based on the fact that this man demonstrated the intention of using these connections to the detriment of France.
“Your Majesty’s feelings are entirely justified,” Colbert agreed.
"I had a whip for this man, and I used it," the King continued. "I declared this person persona non grata and severely limited his ability to stay on French territory. After that, the said person realized that the King of France is not a man to be treated dishonorably.
“Extremely clever, Your Majesty,” Colbert continued.
“At the present moment, I have not asked you for your approval of my actions, Monsieur Colbert,” Philippe replied coldly. “I am merely explaining to you, Monsieur Colbert, that under certain circumstances the strongest anger may be replaced by mercy, as a result of which my desire to destroy the Lord Bishop of Vannes, or at least to imprison him, has completely lost its relevance. If he is sent to the fortress, then this act may be very short-lived. To complete the education of the feelings of the said bishop. I can easily revoke my decision if I am presented with evidence of the sufficiently effective activity of the former Lord Bishop of Vannes for the good of France in the past, in the present and, what is much more important, in the future. He may again become not the former, but the actual Bishop of Vannes, if I deem it expedient. However, I previously considered it expedient to transfer this post to another prelate, and I see no reason at the present time to change this decision.” But if Monsieur d'Herblay serves me faithfully, great prospects may open up before him; in case of due obedience I may even decide to petition the Pope to have him elected a cardinal. After all, I petitioned for Paul de Gondi, whom we all now know as Cardinal de Retz. And yet the guilt of the coadjutor before France, before me and the Queen, and before the late Cardinal Mazarin, my first minister, is extremely high. If I were not so merciful, Paul de Gondi might instead of a cardinal's cap receive life imprisonment or something worse. But I am merciful to those who have recognized their guilt and changed for the better. So it was and so it will be in the future, if I so wish.
Colbert bowed silently, to which the King nodded approvingly and continued.
“Monsieur d’Herblay, or any other person whom I may deem useful in the future for my policy in Europe, may be pardoned for the faults of which I am aware, or even encouraged for the services which he has rendered, renders, or will render to me, and therefore to France,” the King concluded. “If I consented to recognize in the man presented to me as the Bishop of Vannes the person whom Monsieur d’Artagnan called him, it follows that such was my will. If I ordered that this person be sent under guard to the island of Saint-Marguerite, it follows that this must be done. If I ever decide to release this person, or any other person, from custody, then so it shall be. I remind you that the Duke of Beaufort, imprisoned by Cardinal Mazarin, was subsequently pardoned and received the highest confidence from me, your King, and received from me also the highest military posts in the state and carried out several successful naval operations. I still mourn his loss and cherish the thought that he did not die, but was merely captured, and in that case I would not hesitate to pay the ransom that the Ottoman Empire would demand for him.
“I will make every effort to carry out the investigation into this matter,” Colbert replied.
“No need,” the King waved it off, “I have other services for that. Take care of the finances.”
“This has always been and will always be the main subject of my concerns, Your Majesty,” replied Colbert.
“I am glad that you understand my desire so correctly,” the King nodded.

Returning to his office, Colbert took up his pen again. This time he wrote:

"Kill both of them, cover up all traces. Remove the perpetrators. K."

Then he rang the bell again and said to the secretary:
- Lucien, I need a dove with a blue thread.

LXXXIX. Kumar’s powder

Four horsemen rode up to the Gray Fox tavern and, throwing the reins of their horses to two grooms who had approached, went inside.
- Innkeeper, we need two rooms for the night, serve food in them, and also take care of our horses, - said the senior in rank. - Tomorrow at dawn we leave! We are in a hurry.
- Jacques will show you the rooms, sir officer, dinner will be brought to you in twenty minutes.
“Very well,” replied the officer. “And tell me, my dear sir, how long ago did a carriage pass here, blue in colour, with the count’s coat of arms, on which eagles are depicted on the blue fields, arranged diagonally, and on the other two yellow fields a fortress wall with two towers is depicted?”
"You are speaking of the coat of arms of the Count d'Artagnan," replied the innkeeper. "The Count's carriage passed by this afternoon, but the travelers did not leave it. They rode on."
"Excellent!" the officer replied, turning to his companions and adding in a low voice, " We'll catch up with them tomorrow."
After this, taking one of the horsemen by the hand, the said officer, accompanied by Jacques, went to inspect the rooms offered. Having chosen a room to his taste, he occupied it with his companion, and the other two guardsmen settled in another room.
"And since when did women start dressing up as guards and riding around on horseback accompanied by three men?" the innkeeper asked himself. "And where is the husband looking?"
Then the innkeeper felt someone gently tugging at his sleeve.
“Monsieur d’Art!” exclaimed the innkeeper, but he did not have time to finish, because the officer, who had quietly entered behind the four, covered his mouth with his hand.
"Quiet, my friend!" whispered d'Artagnan. "Don't make noise. What kind of people are these?"
“It looks like they’re catching up with you, Captain,” the innkeeper replied in a whisper. “Or they’re pursuing your carriage.”
"Very well, Revial, I know that. Thank you," replied d'Artagnan, for it was he.
“It seemed to me that one of the riders was a woman in disguise,” the innkeeper said.
“It’s not my imagination, Revial, that’s how it is,” the captain agreed. “Tell me, my friend, is there a way to listen to what they’re talking about?”
- Next to the room where I put the two junior officers, there is a small tool closet. Maybe you can hear something from there. The room of the senior officer and the woman has thick walls, I can hardly help you in this matter.
- Excellent, Revial! While the senior officers are making grand strategic plans, the juniors are discussing tactics. That suits me! Take me there.
The innkeeper led d'Artagnan to the door of the closet and said in a whisper:
- Please don’t make any noise here, Mr. Captain, because the thin partitions let sound through in both directions.
The captain nodded, quietly opened the door and disappeared into the closet. D'Artagnan heard the conversation of two guardsmen, by whose voices he recognized them as Senior Lieutenant d'Elsorte and Lieutenant de Lortie.
"I think we are being made fun of," said de Lortie. "We have to hunt Captain d'Artagnan again, tracking his carriage! Of course, tracking him in a carriage is easier than chasing him when he is riding, but our instructions were simpler that time."
"And we lost du Cloy," d'Elsorte continued. "We still don't know what happened to him."
"And instead of the captain, we chased in vain some young double of his!" continued de Lortie. "If these two had not come to his aid, we would have seized him and disemboweled him before he confessed for what purpose he impersonated d'Artagnan! There is clearly some conspiracy behind all this. The captain is playing some kind of game."
"Someone higher up is intriguing!" responded d'Elsorte. "If it had been necessary to seize Captain d'Artagnan, it could have been done two days ago, when he was openly walking around Paris and even went into the Louvre and met with the King and Colbert!"
"If he wasn't caught, there must have been some reason for it," de Lortie replied. "And now we have to go after him again! Although tracking a carriage is much easier than chasing a horseman."
"But they imposed a commander on us that was not to our taste," d'Elsorte said angrily. "For what services did this junior lieutenant de Trabuson of yesterday become a captain today and command us? And he even drags his wife along with us!"
"It's beyond my comprehension," de Lortie agreed. "I'll just say that I'm extremely annoyed, and I imagine you are too."
- I am even more annoyed that I have to chase a man whom I always respected, but now hate, he has caused us so much trouble! - answered the first lieutenant. - In this whole situation, there is only one good thing. De Trabu;on has given permission to shoot both travelers as soon as we catch up with them, even if they do not resist. This suits me, since I would not like to cross swords with d'Artagnan! Better to shoot him at once!
"I fully agree with that," de Lortie confirmed. "Captain d'Artagnan's sword is one of the most deadly swords in France, despite the age of its owner. He shoots very accurately, but we can get ahead of him here."
"Not only can we, but we must!" agreed d'Elsorte. "De Trabu;on said that while he was distracting the captain with conversation, we should, without wasting time, shoot both of them. This is, of course, an effective tactic, but I find such meanness disgusting."
"If such tactics are the only way to save our lives, I have nothing against it," de Lortie objected. "Fighting even three of us against d'Artagnan is not a very cheerful prospect, and considering that de Trabu;on is not expected to be agile, as far as I know his so-called courage and his fencing style, it turns out that there are only two of us against the captain. This does not give us a sure chance.
"That's the only reason I didn't tell de Trabu;on to go to hell when he proposed this plan to us," d'Elsorte agreed. "When you have to choose between nobility at the risk of your life and some deviations from the code of honor while guaranteeing its preservation, I choose the second option."
"How will we look our children in the eye after such things?" de Sorti asked sadly.
"And who makes you tell them about your affairs? Let's go to sleep, my friend," replied d'Elsorte, who apparently found the topic unpleasant. "We have to leave at dawn tomorrow, we've been riding without rest today, I'm literally falling off my feet."
Having made sure that he would not hear anything important, d'Artagnan quietly left the pantry and went to the stables. Entering there, the captain thought of driving small stones between the horses' shoes and hooves, but abandoned this idea, since he loved horses too much. Therefore, he limited himself to emptying the powder bags tied to the saddles and filling them with the powder received from the Indian. After this, he cut the traces on the saddles so that they would burst by midday or evening. Then he left the stables, generously paid the innkeeper, and carefully led out his horse, tied in the neighboring courtyard, adjoining the inn from the back. Having walked him to a distance from which the clatter of hooves could no longer be heard in the tavern, he removed the rags that were wrapped around the horse's hooves, jumped on his horse and raced after his carriage.

Meanwhile, de Trabu;on was communicating with his companion in a manner that would have left no doubt in the mind of the innkeeper Revial about the correctness of his guess, had he been able to observe this type of communication. Fortunately for both, the walls were soundproof, the doors were strong and the bolt on them was reliable, and besides, the innkeeper would not risk disturbing his guests without their invitation.
Having sated and tired each other with communication closer than friendship, the worthy spouses moved on to verbal communication.
"You're so hot today, Olivia!" de Trabu;on noted with delight.
"You weren't bad either, Didier," Olivia replied. "I'm so excited by the thought of this dangerous adventure we've gotten ourselves into!"
“You were the only one who got involved in it, and no one asked me,” Didier replied.
"One would think you were unhappy with the assignment!" Olivia exclaimed. "How many assignments do you know that would allow you to skip two ranks?"
“Mr. Colbert gave me these titles not for future merits, but for past ones,” Didier answered proudly.
"Don't be an ass, my dear!" Olivia burst out laughing. "Where have you ever met a nobleman who pays generously for past services, on condition that he does not need any more complicated and important services in the future? There are no such people, not only in France, but in the whole world, I suppose!"
“But he already gave me a captain’s patent!” Didier disagreed.
"He's already shown how easy it is for him to tear up such papers, hasn't he?" Olivia persisted. "He gave you a way to carry out his new assignment, nothing more. I'm sure that if you don't carry out his assignment properly, he'll take away both this patent and your junior lieutenant's patent and send you to serve as a simple guardsman."
“I now remember that he said something like that,” Didier agreed sadly.
"You see!" Olivia said triumphantly. "You're lucky to have a wife who can foresee things and give you some useful advice."
“And what advice will you give me this time?” asked Didier.
"The important thing is not that Colbert should be pleased with what you have already done, but that he should need you because of what you can still do for him," Olivia replied. "That is why you must think now not only about how to carry out the task given to you, but also about demonstrating to Colbert that only you could carry it out as accurately as he would have liked, and perhaps even more accurately. And you should also think about how you will report on the results of the trip."
“How can the order be carried out more accurately than it was given?” asked Didier.
"Think and tell me what will bother Colbert most after the mission is completed?" Olivia asked, and without giving her husband time to think, she added. "The most unpleasant thing for him will be that several people know too much about this mission. Therefore, it will be pleasant for him if those of your subordinates who carry out the double murder cannot tell anyone anything, and you, for your part, tell him that the death of those we are pursuing was an accident. It will be better if you have proof that you made every effort to save both the pursued and the pursuers, but you failed."
- Who would believe such a tale? Do you think that Mr. Colbert could believe that two of my guards killed two people they were pursuing and died themselves, while I didn't have a single scratch on me? - Didier was surprised.
"First of all, people believe not in what is more probable, but in what is more profitable for them to believe," Olivia answered, "and secondly, I did not say that you would not have a single scratch on you. A small wound, not life-threatening, will confirm your heroism and bring you closer to the rank of major.
- You are my clever girl! - exclaimed Didier. - Your advice is very valuable to me. It is wonderful that you sometimes give it to me.
- Of course, it's wonderful! - agreed Olivia. - You would have been a fine man if you hadn't listened to me and challenged d'Aunay to a duel, as you were going to do. Then I might already be a widow, since you're not the best swordsman. As it is, the task was accomplished, and you returned alive, without a single wound, and you were given a new rank, and there is not a single person in the world who could make accusations against you. I hope no one saw how you dealt with him?
“Nobody, it was empty around,” Didier reassured Olivia.
"That's great," Olivia replied. "Let's go to bed already, we won't get any sleep tomorrow."

XC. Trap

At dusk, du Chante approached the ship and saw that there were no sailors on shore. Believing that the captain had given the order for the entire crew to settle down for the night on the ship, he also climbed the gangway onto the ship and quietly called out to the captain. No one answered. Then du Chante opened the door to the captain's cabin and stepped into the darkness.
At the same moment he felt four strong hands grab him, and at the same time du Chante felt the cold barrel of a musket touch his cheek.
"Don't make a sound, friend," said a voice from the darkness. "Resistance won't help you, we've already got all of you. In the name of the King, you're under arrest."

Porthos spent a wonderful evening playing cards. The generous de Saint-Mars persuaded him to have a couple more cups of the magical drink called "boche". After the last cup, the baron felt how tired he was and suggested to his host to finish the games and retire.
"The last sip for a sound sleep, Monsieur Baron!" exclaimed de Saint-Mars, and filled Porthos's cup again.
- I don't think it will do me any good... - said Porthos. - I'm literally falling off my feet as it is and I just want to get to my bed. But I can't throw away such a wonderful drink! - with these words, Porthos poured the contents of the goblet into himself and resolutely placed it on the table. - But not another drop! - he said resolutely and headed to the bedroom provided for him.

The next morning, Porthos could not wake up for a long time. When he opened his eyes with difficulty, he discovered that he could not move his arms or legs, since he was tied with the strongest ropes.

"What the hell!" he cursed. "You have strange ideas about hospitality, Mr. Commandant!" The baron added several epithets to these phrases, which we will omit.
At the sound of his voice, sending curses towards de Saint-Mars, the addressee of these curses himself entered the bedroom.

“I hope you slept well, Mr. Baron?” he inquired.
"Go to hell, de Saint-Mars!" Porthos shouted angrily. "What the hell are you doing?"
"It grieves me to treat an old comrade in arms in this way," said de Saint-Mars. "However, such are the King's orders. Scarcely had Captain d'Artagnan taken my prisoner, in accordance with the King's orders, which ordered him to do so, when a messenger arrived a couple of hours later with a new order from the King. If you please, I will read it to you."

"The King's order to the commandant of the fortress of Pignerol, Monsieur de Saint-Mars.
Any persons arriving on the island of Saint-Marguerite for any purpose are to be detained and held under arrest at any cost until the arrival of a special investigative commission. Let everyone in, let no one out. If possible, establish the purpose of their arrival, using abstract conversations and the appearance of a frank conversation until the moment when those arriving try to leave the island or, even more so, take anyone with them from the island.
For failure to comply with this order, the guilty party will be brought to trial.
King Louis XIV."

"As you can judge for yourself, Monsieur Baron, I have carried out this order to the letter," said de Saint-Mars. "I have tried not to cause any injury and, if possible, not to cause unnecessary inconvenience to my visitors, but I could not let you leave the island. Rest! I believe that the commission of inquiry will not be long in coming."
"I have no questions for you, and we are your prisoners," Porthos sighed. "The Boche was magnificent, but the last two cups had a different taste. You put something in there. I never expected such meanness from a former colleague."
- What you call meanness, Mr. Baron, is concern for your health and the health of the soldiers entrusted to me. If I had ordered them to take you by force, both sides would have suffered, but this way we resolved all the problems amicably.
“I hope you haven’t hurt my comrades,” Porthos said in an offended tone.
- They are all right, our fortress has enough casemates. If you wish to move to a similar room, I can arrange it, but it seems to me that you will be quite comfortable in this bedroom. It is also locked with a key, and although the windows are not barred, you will not be able to escape from such a height. In addition, the ropes are strong enough, you will not be able to break them.
"I haven't tried this to its full potential yet," Porthos thought to himself. "Let's see who wins."

XCI. Messenger without a message

Aramis was sitting in his office in Madrid again, about to write a letter to Athos. He was wondering how to begin without emphasizing his participation in saving his friend. At that moment, the doors opened and Bazin entered.
- Monseigneur, a dove from du Chante has arrived, but there is no message on its leg.
- Really? - Aramis was surprised. - So it turns out that he lost his message?
"Impossible, monseigneur," replied Bazin. "Du Chante always tied his messages with a very strong thread, making five turns, and secured it with several knots."
"Then this pigeon escaped without the intention of du Chante," agreed Aramis. "How many pigeons did he have left, Bazin?"
“One more besides this one, Monseigneur,” replied Bazin.
"Then if the second pigeon arrives soon, it will mean that du Chante has been attacked and the cages broken," said Aramis anxiously. "Thank you, Bazin, if the second pigeon arrives, inform me immediately."
After Bazin left, Aramis fell into thought.
"So, du Chante has apparently been captured. Well, he doesn't know much. However, I didn't give him any special instructions, except to keep d'Artagnan from taking action in case there were a large number of spies near the island. Well, let's wait for developments."
After this, Aramis returned to his reflections on the text of the letter to Athos.

An hour later, Bazin came to tell Aramis that the second pigeon had also arrived, and also without any note.
- Well, Bazin, Agent du Chant; has done a splendid job, and I should be sorry to lose such an assistant, but we will not expose ourselves to extreme danger to save him. My last trip to France nearly cost me dearly. We will do otherwise. I intend to legalize my stay in France by protecting myself with diplomatic immunity. To do this, I will have to get to know Charles II of Spain better. I have already planned to do this, but I will have to speed things up a little. Bazin, you must buy up the lands adjacent to this castle as soon as possible. I intend to transform this marquisate into a duchy and register it in my name. I believe that I should become a Spanish grandee as soon as possible. I have enough money and connections. From now on, I will be called the Duke d'Alameda.
Bazin bowed and left.

Meanwhile, Colbert was interrogating one of his spies, named Pierre, about a priest who, according to the testimony of the guards, was accompanying the relics of the mysterious Saint Ambrose.
"So, Pierre, you say you've found out everything about this man with the beard?" Colbert asked.
“I questioned many witnesses in that place, I don’t remember what it was called, and I established absolutely all the facts about this man!” Pierre answered.
- Well done, Pierre, you will be rewarded for your ingenuity! - Colbert rejoiced. - Tell me everything you have found out about this man!
“I asked many people who saw him who he was,” Pierre replied. “That is to say, I questioned everyone who saw him, and there weren’t that many. Actually, there were only three of them, but while I was talking to one of them, the other two left, and I couldn’t find them after that. So I found out everything from this one, whom I questioned in great detail about everything, and he answered all my questions!”
“Well, at least that’s it,” said Colbert, with obvious disappointment. “So this witness you questioned was aware of the man with the beard who accompanied the people you knew?”
- Of course! - exclaimed Pierre. - Of course! Very well informed! More than anyone else! And he willingly answered all my questions, for which I gave him half a livre.
"I hope this information is worth it," said Colbert hopefully. "Say what you have learned about him, and perhaps your information is worth more than half a livre!"
- That's what I'm doing! - Pierre exclaimed. - I'll tell you everything without concealment! Of course! What should I hide from you? After all, you are my benefactor and my boss! So I'll tell you everything I've learned, I won't hide anything.
“I’m waiting,” Colbert said coldly, already beginning to lose patience.
- So I asked this man, and then his wife and his daughter came up. After all, they run the tavern, so they know everyone! - Pierre continued. - And everything they told me is completely confirmed, since all three of them always answered all my questions the same way.
“But you only gave half a livre to the innkeeper,” Colbert suggested.
“I only gave him half a livre, but his wife demanded her share, so I gave her half a livre too,” said Pierre.
- Let's forget about these two half livres, I don't want to know whether you gave the owner's daughter half a livre or not, let's get back to the heart of the matter, - Colbert said, trying to maintain a calm tone. - I'm finally waiting for information about what you asked and what you heard in response. Without a description of these people and your commercial relations with them. Only on business.
- That's what I'm saying! I've found out absolutely everything! - Pierre answered with some offense. - First, I asked if they had seen this man. They answered that they had.
“Wonderful, what next?” Colbert encouraged Pierre.
“Then I asked if they knew who he was?” Pierre continued.
“Next?” Colbert demanded.
“And they answered me,” said Pierre.
“What exactly did they tell you?” Colbert asked harshly.
“So they replied that they had no idea who this man was,” Pierre replied.
- Go on, damn it, tell me everything you found out! - Colbert boiled over. - Do I have to use pliers to squeeze information out of you? Tell me everything you found out!
— So then I asked where he came from, — Pierre continued. — And they answered me. They answered, yes! They said they had not the slightest idea. Then I asked where he was going and why, they answered that they did not know, they had no idea. Then I asked if they at least knew whether he was a nobleman or a swindler, to which I received the answer that, well, who could tell them apart, these grants and rogues, swindlers and aristocrats, they all look the same. After that I asked if he was a priest, and they answered that who knows, whether he is a priest or not. It may be that he is indeed a priest. It may very well be, they said. It is quite possible, by all means, that he is indeed a priest. Or a swindler. So it may be that he is not even a priest. Or, let’s say, someone else, but definitely not a priest. After all, they had not seen him before, and they do not know where he came from, and where he, therefore, went. That is how I found out all the information about him, which I am now telling you all about with precision.
“Well done,” Colbert replied coldly. “Get out.”


XCII. Indecision

Philippe, of course, understood that, having taken the place of the King, he would acquire not only a mother and brother, but also other family members, including a wife. If he imagined ordinary communication from the books he had read, then no one had taught him how to communicate with his wife. Meanwhile, his brother the King, although very young, had been married for several years, and, as Philippe knew, also had a mistress - Mademoiselle de La Valli;re. And even before her, he closely communicated with many ladies, and almost all of Mazarin's nieces gave him unambiguous evidence of their favor towards him. Philippe, in order to avoid exposure, would have to portray both an experienced husband and an experienced lover, being neither one nor the other. In relation to Mademoiselle de La Valli;re, Philippe promised himself to part with her, it was only necessary to find a reason for parting, but this was not the biggest problem among the difficult circumstances of communication with representatives of the fair sex that arose. It would have been enough to simply get capricious about any reason and ask La Valli;re not to bother him any more; the rest would have been done by the courtiers, who would have been happy to pounce on the dismissed favorite. She would have immediately ended up in a monastery, whether by her own will or against her will. But with his legitimate wife, things were more complicated. During his first desperate attempt to take his brother's place, he happily avoided meetings with his nominal spouse, citing a bad mood. But this cannot be done forever.
He knew that he could delay contact with the one everyone considered his wife for a few days without arousing any suspicions, since Louis had not been spoiling Maria Theresa with his visits lately. After some thought, Philip decided to start with a matter that seemed simpler to him, so he went to visit Louise to announce the break.
Since Philippe already knew both the place and the usual time when Louis came to see Louise, he decided to use this method of meeting to announce to Mademoiselle de La Valli;re his decision to break off their close relationship.
He knocked with his cane on Mademoiselle's door in exactly the same way that Louis had knocked on the same door with the same cane the day before, unaware of his presence in the bushes of the alley.
"Your Majesty, come in!" said Louise, opening the doors.
“Good evening, mademoiselle,” Philippe replied. “Our last meeting did not take place, and I see this as a sign of fate.”
"Your Majesty, I am extremely sorry that I was not able to brighten your solitude on the evening you speak of," said Louise submissively. "I hope that this evening will enable me to make amends for the unpleasant impression I made on you, for which I am solely responsible, as well as for my fickle nature and some unpleasant news I received the day before."
“You must not blame yourself for anything, madam,” Philip replied. “Probably it is the Lord, who governs our lives, who gives us a sign that our relationship is not approved by Him,” he added, trying to build a logical bridge to the need to part as gently as possible.
“The Divine Providence which has bound our destinies together cannot condemn Your Majesty, since in your kingdom you are always right, whatever decision you may make with regard to someone who deserves your attention, whenever and to what extent he has been honored with it,” replied Louise. “As for condemning my actions, I know everything about myself, and I do not seek to justify myself. I only hope that the moment Your Majesty decides that Mademoiselle de La Valli;re has become tiresome to him, I will immediately go to a monastery and devote my whole life to prayer. I will pray, first of all, for you, Your Majesty, and if the Almighty finds in his heart also a grain of pity for me, if he does not forgive, but at least understands my actions, I will consider myself the happiest of mortals.” If he does not forgive and does not understand, I will gladly accept the fate that he chooses for me, and I hope to endure all the punishments that will be assigned to me both on earth and in the next world.
This was the first time Philip had encountered such self-denial.
"Mademoiselle, you must not shoulder our common guilt before God upon yourself alone!" he said. "I am no less guilty than you of our apostasy from one of the Lord's commandments, and I am ready to answer for it in heaven."
“Your Majesty,” Louise answered warmly, “I am glad that you look at our weakness from a moral standpoint and I will obey any of your orders!”
"Our friendship, I believe, offends two people on earth," Philip continued. "First, the Queen, and second, your fianc;."
“The Queen obviously has many merits over me, Your Majesty, and I fully accept and approve of your decision to return to her completely and give your heart to her alone,” Louise said submissively.
"Your submission frightens me, madam!" cried Philip. "You have said nothing about your fianc;. Are you going to acknowledge his rights to your hand and heart?"
"Your Majesty is well aware that my heart is given only to you," Louise replied with a sigh. "What is given to one man forever cannot be given to another."
"Perhaps you are too cruel to your fianc;?" said Philippe, sadly, who sincerely hoped that the injustice committed by Louis towards the Vicomte de Bragelonne could still be corrected.
"Unfortunately, Your Majesty, the man you insist on calling my fianc; can no longer care about the question of who I gave my heart to. The Viscount died in battle," Louise replied, tears appearing in the corners of her eyes at these words, which she was ashamed of, not wanting to show the King that she could feel any feelings for another man, even if these feelings were just childish affection.
"This is a great sorrow!" cried Philippe. "You are crying, Louise, therefore you loved him!"
"These tears are tears for the life of a man who has always been my friend, but who has never been my fianc; or lover," Louise objected. "I cannot answer for what he imagined about me, but that does not prevent me from regretting his lost life."
“ I share your grief, madam,” Philip said sincerely.
“So, in rejecting me, Your Majesty must not think that you are returning me to a man to whom I never belonged, and who no longer cares about earthly troubles,” said Louise. “But for me, either of the two other reasons for which you decided to reject me is enough. Either I have displeased Your Majesty in some way, or perhaps I have simply become boring, or Your Majesty has felt a new surge of love for the Queen. Any of these reasons is sufficient, but even if there are no reasons for your decision, I will still gratefully accept any order from Your Majesty. Order me to retire to a monastery, and there I will give birth to the child I carry under my heart, your child.”
- Are you mad, madam? - Philip cried out in horror. - To give birth to a child within the walls of a monastery means to burden it with suffering and torment even before birth! And it does not bode well for you either!
Philippe remembered his fate, the fate of the Prince, born in secret, who spent his whole life in captivity, because his royal parents decided to hide him from people. Louis's child, Philippe's nephew, must not repeat his fate.
"Madam, your child will be born as he should be, in the palace, I will give him a title, and he will live a happy life, I promise you that!" Philip exclaimed passionately.
- Oh, don't say that, Your Majesty! - Louise cried. - You called him my child, so you don't recognize him as your own! This is terrible! I must go to a monastery if you refuse your child. Refuse me a thousand times, but do not refuse him, this innocent unborn child is not guilty of our sin!
- Louise, I only misspoke, - answered Philippe, seeing how Louise was suffering. - Of course, this is our common child. Whatever sex he is born, I promise that his life will be bright and joyful, I will give him the serene life that should be given to the son of a King, - said Philippe, thinking that if his father, Louis XIII, had looked at this matter in exactly the same way, perhaps he, Philippe, would have been, if not a King, then a completely happy and free man, a nobleman, a Prince.
- Thank you, Your Majesty! Thank you from the bottom of my heart! - Louise exclaimed.
With these words she fell to her knees in front of Philip, grabbed his hand and pressed her lips to his hand. Tears of gratitude and happiness flowed down her cheeks and burned Philip's hand.
- Madam... - said the discouraged Philip. - You are tormenting yourself in vain. I ask you to calm down.
With these words, Philippe tenderly embraced Louise by the shoulders. Louise responded to this embrace, hugging Philippe's legs and leaning her head on his knees.
Philippe felt a hitherto unfamiliar tremor throughout his body, pleasant goosebumps ran down his spine, the scent of Louise's hair made his head spin. He was unable to control his desire, he buried his face in her hair and imprinted a tender youthful kiss on Mademoiselle's forehead. An unknown wave of feelings finally overwhelmed his being, he felt an irresistible desire to caress Louise, he felt that this desire of his did not remain unanswered by Mademoiselle, after which he whispered:
- Louise, I never knew that...
“Be silent, sir…” Mademoiselle de La Valli;re whispered in response and sealed Philippe’s lips with her own.
At this point the author modestly withdraws and invites readers to follow his example.
 
XCIII. Attack at Dusk

- Listen, d'Artagnan! - exclaimed the King, on the second day of the journey. - I am grateful to you for freeing me from this terrible mask and untying my hands, but I am a living man! I need to walk, stretch my limbs, otherwise you will bring to the fortress not me, but my corpse. I want to eat, finally, sitting at a table, like a man, and not eating this rubbish that you buy for me at the tavern, washing it all down with wine, while the carriage continues on its way and I risk choking at any moment!
“Your grievances are quite justified, Your Majesty, but I cannot allow you to visit the tavern,” the captain replied.
“If one of your assistants managed to escort me, and I, as you see, did not run away, then the two of you, undoubtedly, need not fear that I will escape, taking advantage of the fact that you allow me to get out of the carriage,” said the King.
"But I allow you this with sufficient regularity, Your Majesty!" objected d'Artagnan. "You regularly take walks in nature."
"I want to go into a decent tavern and eat decent food, damn you!" the King demanded in a capricious tone.
"I deplore any violence to you, Your Majesty, that is not necessary," replied the captain. "Show me a way to satisfy your demand without risk to you or me, and I will do as you ask."
"It is already quite dark," said the King with irritation. "If you insist, I will put on this stupid iron mask so that no one will see or recognize me, and then we will go to the first decent tavern we come across. You will rent us a separate room, and we will order a decent meal, which I will eat in the room, where no one will see me. On the way back, I am also prepared to put on this disgusting mask.
"Well, that's sensible!" the captain agreed. "The nearest tavern will be here soon."

At last the carriage drew up before the inn. D'Artagnan got out and held the door, inviting the King to follow his example.
As soon as the King set foot on the ground, four horsemen rode up to the carriage, apparently having overtaken it and were waiting in ambush.
- Listen, Monsieur d'Artagnan! - one of the horsemen addressed the captain. - Allow me to ask you a few questions about your prisoner and the purpose of your journey!
"I am listening to you, my dear de Trabu;on, if I am not mistaken," replied the captain. "Forgive me, but you have not introduced yourself, and it is rather dark here; I may be mistaken, since I recognize you only by your voice."
At that moment, d'Artagnan heard the clicks of the triggers of four muskets, which two of the guardsmen held in both hands. None of the muskets fired.
"It seems, de Trabu;on, that you are not so much interested in my answer to your question as in the possibility of shooting me down like a partridge," d'Artagnan answered calmly. "Gentlemen, throw away your muskets, in which case I am prepared to do the same and cross swords with you! Otherwise, I will shoot."
With these words, d'Artagnan pulled two muskets from his belt and pointed them at the guards who were trying to kill him.
"Shoot, you fools!" shouted de Trabu;on. "What are you waiting for?"
"Don't try," replied d'Artagnan. "Your muskets don't have the powder that can help you in your bad manners when dealing with peaceful travelers. But I will teach you good manners. Muskets on the ground, quickly!"
At this moment, the fourth horseman, who was behind the three in front, pulled a musket from his saddlebag and aimed it at the King.
"Get your weapons on the ground, Captain d'Artagnan!" cried the horseman. "Otherwise I will shoot your prisoner!"
"Shoot, madam," the captain answered calmly. "Your gunpowder is no better than that of your friends."
The horsewoman coolly aimed her musket at the King and pulled the trigger. There was a deafening shot and the King fell to the ground.
"Damn it!" cried d'Artagnan. "The damned woman has saved a pinch of gunpowder!"
With these words he jumped up to the horse on which Olivia de Trabu;on was sitting and pointed his sword at the rider.
"Madam, I do not fight with women, but if circumstances force me to, I will do it, believe me!" he said. "I ask you to throw down your weapons and dismount."
At that moment, de Trabu;on drove his horse straight at the captain, knocking him down and would have trampled him if the captain had not managed to deftly roll to the side.
“Let’s go!” shouted de Trabu;on and was the first to rush into the darkness.
The three remaining horsemen also spurred their horses, hurrying to disappear into the night.
Fran;ois jumped out of the carriage and fired two muskets after them. One of the riders fell to the side and after a while fell off his horse.
Fran;ois ran after the horsemen, but they disappeared from sight. Meanwhile, d'Artagnan hurried to approach the King.
- Your Majesty, forgive me! I did not protect you! - exclaimed the captain.
"Take off that stupid mask!" he heard the King's muffled voice. "My head hurts terribly. I think I'm hurt."
" You are alive!" cried d'Artagnan, running quickly to the King and removing his mask.
Indeed, the King was alive. Olivia shot the King in the head, hoping to kill him with one shot. Luckily, in the darkness, she did not notice the iron mask on him and shot at the silhouette. The iron mask took the bullet, but the King received a serious blow to the head. Since there were soft cloth pads inside the mask so as not to injure the prisoner's head, the King did not receive any wounds.
"Damned wretch!" the King muttered, tearing off his mask with hatred.
"Don't scold this mask, Your Majesty!" the captain objected. "It just saved your life."
Seeing the musket ball mark, the King was frightened by the thought of what might have happened to him if he had not been wearing a mask. However, he quickly pulled himself together and said:
- The Lord protects me! This is proof that you are wrong, captain!
"If so, the Lord sent his blessing upon you only on the condition that you nevertheless put on this mask. Therefore, let us not tempt him and next time we will also use it," d'Artagnan objected.
"Do you think that we will be attacked again?" the King asked anxiously.
“I think we will fight them off,” replied d’Artagnan. “What’s the matter with him, Fran;ois?”
“Immediately,” answered de Perrin.
“Let me take a look, and you take care of His Majesty,” said the captain.
Approaching the dead horseman, he identified the guardsman de Lortie.
- Sir, - said Fran;ois, - fortunately there is loud music playing in the inn and no one inside heard those two shots. I propose that we leave this place and let whoever finds it deal with it. We will stop at the next inn. I will ride a little ahead in case of an ambush. I think that their muskets are spoiled and that they have no powder left, and three swords, one of which belongs to a woman, do not frighten me. We will see who will win.
"It is not Christian to leave a guardsman unburied, Fran;ois," the captain objected. "Besides, Madame's musket is in good order, as you see. Evidently the beast does not leave the powder in the powder bags, but takes it with her to the inn where she spends the night. Well, a commendable habit. But we cannot risk His Majesty's life."

After this, d'Artagnan went into the tavern and said to the innkeeper:
— My dear fellow, I am the captain of the king’s musketeers, who are carrying out the King’s order to escort a dangerous state criminal. Here are the orders. We were just attacked by robbers. We shot one of them, three managed to escape. Clean up there. We need rest and food, and take care of our horses and the carriage. You can keep the scoundrel’s horse, since robbers are outlaws. We are taking these two rooms, the ones closest to the door. If anyone lives in them, evict them. The King’s orders. Serve us the best food you have.
The innkeeper hurried to carry out the captain's orders. The king, despite the excitement he had experienced, began his dinner with a great appetite, fueled by the pleasant thought that the Lord was taking care of him, since He had protected him from the traitor's bullet. In this case, one could count on all the troubles to end soon, justice to prevail, and he to take his throne again.

XCIV. Night at the Inn

"Your Majesty, your wish has been granted, you have finally received hot food, help yourself," said d'Artagnan. "I beg your pardon that the table setting is not up to the level of the Louvre. We will have to put up with it."
“When I return to the throne, I will have you executed quickly and painlessly, Captain,” the King replied coldly, beginning his meal.
"Your Majesty won't even take note that the mask I insistently asked you to put on saved your life?" the captain asked with a smile.
“That’s exactly what I took into account when I said that you will die quickly and painlessly, don’t ask me for a greater favor,” Louis replied.
“It sounds very tempting, but I will try to avoid such favor from Your Majesty, and for now – bonapetti!” replied d’Artagnan.
Cheered by the thought that he would one day return to the throne, the King began to eat with great appetite.
"By the way, captain, how did you manage to get the prisoner out of the fortress?" he asked, spreading foie gras on a thin salted biscuit.
“I took advantage of your order, Your Majesty, which you wrote with your own hand under my dictation while you were in the Bastille,” replied d’Artagnan.
“ But the order was addressed to de Bezmo!” exclaimed the King.
“Your Majesty forgot to mention the name of the commandant and the name of the fortress, and I didn’t remind you,” the captain answered modestly.
- Scoundrel! Now I remember that I wrote down everything exactly as you dictated! - the King was indignant, without interrupting his meal. - It turns out that even then you were planning a malicious state crime!?
"I haven't thought about it yet, but I haven't ruled it out," d'Artagnan replied. "Your Majesty has offended me greatly by attacking all my friends at once. I would forgive you for attacking more than just me."
“And my actions were absolutely correct, as is proved by your subsequent actions,” said the King, quite dispassionately, cutting off a perfectly roasted goose leg and pouring an exquisite garlic sauce over it.
"My subsequent actions, Your Majesty, were a completely correct reaction to your actions, here everything depends on how you look at these two phenomena. The subsequent action cannot be the cause of the previous one," objected d'Artagnan.
“ So you are also a philosopher,” the King nodded, taking a large sip of Tokaj. “And I thought you were only a conspirator.”
"Conspiracy is not my profession, Your Majesty, all my life I only wanted to serve my fatherland honestly, but it is impossible to obey some orders without being a philosopher," the captain replied. "Only by realizing that the orders are not given by the smartest people can one calmly endure this situation. Every person has the right to make mistakes, but for some reason many abuse this right too much."
"You won't be able to use your plot anyway, Captain, since I've managed to take some measures," said Louis with some malice, starting on dessert. "You're in for an extremely unpleasant surprise."
"The profession of an officer teaches one to expect unpleasant surprises at any moment, Your Majesty," the captain replied. "Any order written by you can be cancelled by an order from the one who currently occupies your throne."
"Provided that this usurper knows about this order and is informed of the results of its execution," Louis agreed. "But in this case these conditions will not be fulfilled, so you will soon learn that you have caught not only me, but yourself, sir captain, and then I will laugh to my heart's content."
"I do not object in the least, Your Majesty, to your gaiety," said d'Artagnan, who, seeing that the King was already sufficiently sated, allowed himself to join in the repast. "When the King is in good spirits, it is a good sign for his subjects."
"That is not always the case, Captain," smiled the King, and this time his smile could be called snake-like. "I think that on St. Bartholomew's Day Charles IX was in an excellent mood."
"Thank you, Your Majesty, you have made me look at you with a sober gaze again," d'Artagnan answered dryly. "Fran;ois, what are you waiting for? Join us for dinner, although His Majesty forgot to invite us, we have a right to our share, especially since I am paying for the dinner."
Fran;ois did not keep himself waiting, since his young body had long been demanding something more substantial than table talk and simply contemplating the dishes being consumed by the King.

“The King must have written some order which he intended to take me by surprise,” thought d’Artagnan, lying in bed. “I must learn of it later, but it must be a great inconvenience to me. Well, this is most likely an order addressed to de Cinq-Mars. What could it be? It cannot be an order not to receive the prisoner, since Louis could not have known that I was taking him there. Therefore, it could be an order not to hand over the prisoner. But how could such an order harm me, if I had already taken Philippe from there? It would only be to my advantage, since I am taking Louis back to the fortress disguised as Philippe. So this could be an order that Cinq-Mars is ordered to arrest me? Most likely, he is ordered to arrest anyone who comes to the island! After all, he could not have known that this person would be me! Well, I was lucky that I managed to take Philippe before Cinq- Mars received this order. "But then, I also had an order from the King. In that case, the commandant would have had the difficult task of figuring out which order was the most important, since the first order contradicted the second. The order I brought had no date, and I could always claim that it was the last one written! So, I have another problem, and it will arise upon arrival at the island of Saint-Marguerite! Thank you, Your Majesty, for warning me!"

XCV. Madame Olivia's Doves

Three horsemen rode up to the Two Pistols tavern and dismounted, handing their horses over to the groom who had arrived.
One of the riders unfastened a small bag from his saddle.
“Didier, take the bag with the pigeons,” said the horseman in a female voice.
"And why do you carry this rubbish around with you, Olivia?" asked Didier de Trabu;on, for it was he.
“We’ll talk later, but now take this and go to the tavern, and hurry,” Olivia answered.
In the room provided for her, Olivia threw her musket on the bed and turned her attention to the pigeons. After feeding and watering each one, she returned them to the bag, then went to the desk with writing materials. Unable to find thin enough paper, she took the required sheet of paper from a pocket on the bag and began to write the following text:

"The prisoner is dead, de Lortie died in battle. We are pursuing the captain."

After this, Olivia took out one of the pigeons, wrapped its leg with a strip with a note, wound a thread over the note in several layers, and, tying the thread into a knot, released the pigeon out the window.

"Now Monsieur Colbert will know how faithfully you serve him, Didier," she said to her husband. "And remember, you blunderer, that powder should not be left in saddlebags. I hope this incident has taught you a lesson for the rest of your life."
"If only I were as smart as you after everything that happened!" exclaimed Didier, ignoring the comparison with a bungler.
- Very funny, - Olivia objected. - Only I was smart not later, but exactly when it was necessary. It is not for nothing that my father rose to the rank of major, while you are still only a captain. Well, never mind, with my help you will, God willing, become a colonel, or even a general!
- Yes, my little goat! - answered Didier. - Come to me!
“Sleep!” Olivia snapped and took the bed by the door.

D'Elsorte did not fall asleep immediately. His comrade in arms, de Lortie, was obviously killed, and he himself barely escaped a bullet in the back. And all because the gunpowder was no good. Not only did the shot fail, but the pistols themselves, as it turned out, were hopelessly damaged! It was very suspicious that the woman, de Trabu;on's wife, had gunpowder in order! It was quite possible that someone had replaced the gunpowder while they were all sleeping in the hotel. But why did Madame Olivia's powder remain excellent, no one had replaced it? Why should we believe the version put forward by the one who was the first under suspicion? Perhaps she decided to get rid of both of them? Well, she got rid of de Lortie, now it was his turn, d'Elsorte! De Trabu;on himself would not have to be feared, he certainly has no conscience, but he also lacks the ingenuity that goes hand in hand with sophisticated meanness. But the lady has all the necessary qualities for betrayal! Why would they need to destroy both of them? Simply because they are witnesses! And accomplices. If they both die, they can be accused of all the crimes, both those that have been committed, and those that are being committed, and even those that will never happen! Both those in which they are involved, and those about which they do not even know anything! What a convenient position! This is precisely why de Trabu;on jumped over two ranks! They are ordered to carry out some crime, then the married couple will get rid of the immediate executors and witnesses, and after they report on the fulfillment of this task, they themselves can also be eliminated without a trace.
D'Elsorte, without knowing it, had quite clearly figured out Colbert's plan. But then doubts began to assail him.
After all, if that had been the plan, there would have been no need to replace the gunpowder. It would have been much more convenient to let them and de Lortie destroy everyone they were chasing, and also to instruct them to remove, if possible, the traces of the crime. And this family could easily have dealt with two unsuspecting junior officers with poison, or with a couple of pistol shots somewhere in the wilderness, without witnesses. They had passed many such places and would pass many more. And they could always do this on the way back. So these two could in no way be to blame for the failure of this night.
“I have become too nervous over such a trifle as the death of a comrade in battle!” thought d’Elsorte. “Am I becoming a wimp? What nonsense! We attacked, they attacked us in return. Our side laid low the main one they were guarding, be it the main criminal or the main secret messenger! We were given an order, we partially carried it out. Not without losses, of course! But that’s what a fight is for! Now it remains to finish off d’Artagnan. That’s a good thing! He thinks too much of himself, and there’s no one to put him in his place, just because he fights well with a sword and shoots extremely accurately! Big deal, valor! It’s time for him to go to the next world! It’s time, it’s time! And this order is very opportune. And then I’ll take a closer look at this married couple. By the way, d’Artagnan apparently has some gold for the journey. Let's see how it's divided between us. If it's even, then these two aren't up to anything. If they take all the loot for themselves, I'll kill them and become the owner of the entire sum myself. If they let me take it all by myself, then they're definitely planning to kill me, and in that case I'll just have to get ahead of them. Forewarned is forearmed!"
After this, d'Elsorte calmed down and fell into the sleep of the just.

XCVI. Athos' decision

The reader will probably ask us why we leave the noble Count de la F;re and his no less noble son, the Vicomte de Bragelonne, without attention. The only excuse for such inattention is the rapidity with which events were developing around the King and his brother. Let us return, however, to that little conversation which took place a few days before the events we are describing.
“My son, we have enjoyed our walks in the mountains to our heart’s content and it is time to finally get down to business,” said Athos to Rouleau after returning from another walk.
“I will gladly obey you, dear father,” answered Raoul. “But what business can two noblemen have here, in this wilderness?”
"That's what I wanted to tell you, my son!" replied Athos. "And the question itself contains the answer. Two noblemen have no business in this wilderness at a time when our friends probably need our help. We leave for France in two hours."
“Have you received any news from there, father?” Raoul asked anxiously.
“If I had received news, you would already know it, my son, and we would set out for it at once,” replied Athos. “But the absence of news is itself news. Until I am assured that our friends, d’Artagnan, Porthos, and Aramis, are safe and sound, and not in danger or in prison, my soul will find no rest. Men like them must either die in the defense of France, or they must live; any other fate would be an insult to them and an irreparable grief to their friends. If my friends are fighting, we will join them; if they are in disgrace, we will share their misfortunes; If they have no need of us, we will embrace them and go our way.”
“To Blois?” asked Raoul.
- Forget about Blois. It is not a place that brings us happiness, - replied Athos. - First of all, we will visit Madame de Chevreuse. If anything worth noting happens in France, she knows about it. Besides, do not forget, Raoul, that you must treat this woman with respect, because I tell you so. But do not ask the reasons for this.
“I gladly obey your order, Count, especially since I myself feel an extraordinary affection for this venerable lady,” answered Raoul.
"I didn't expect anything else from you, my son. Let's go!" concluded Athos.

XCVII. Duchess de Chevreuse

Once the wife of the all-powerful Charles d'Albert, Duke of Luynes, now bore the name of Duchess de Chevreuse. Her first husband, the Duke of Luynes, was the man who later introduced and recommended to Louis XIII the then little-known Richelieu, the same one who later became the great cardinal and first minister of France. Duchess de Chevreuse, n;e Marie de Rohan, involved in many great events, and sometimes playing a very unsightly role in them, did not cease to influence the fate of the French kingdom throughout her life.
Her first husband, the Duke de Luynes, taught her how to intrigue, and Louis, then still a young Dauphin, liked him so much that he chose him as a friend and confidant in all their amusements, including bed ones. This handsome man immediately noticed the charming representative of the noble de Rohan family, who was brought to the royal court at the age of eighteen by her almost disgraced, but once very influential father, so that she could form a small company with the young wife of the Dauphin, Anne of Austria, a scion of the Austrian and Spanish royal houses. The Duke, already forty years old at that time, immediately proposed to her. The de Luynes spouses managed to become the most desirable partners for the royal couple in all the undertakings that young Louis and his wife undertook. It was rumored that the entire four sometimes slept under the same blanket. After Ravaillac's treacherous dagger strike that took the life of the glorious King Henry IV, Louis's father, the latter became known as Louis XIII, but for a long time he remained King in name only, since the country was ruled by the Dowager Queen and her lover Concino Concili, as well as his wife Leonora Galigay. Charles de Luynes persuaded Louis to get rid of the hated Concini spouses and become the rightful King himself. Young Louis ordered the murder of the Marquis's mother's favorite Concino Concini in front of his own mother, the Dowager Queen, and ordered the execution of the Marquis's wife. Having exiled his own mother, Queen Marie de Medici, to Blois, Louis finally established himself as sovereign. After this, the Duke de Luynes was showered with favors in the form of positions and titles. And although de Luynes was a worthless statesman, he remained the closest friend of Louis XIII, while Marie de Luynes drew closer and closer to Anne of Austria.
The Queen Mother did not reconcile herself to her departure from high politics and, with the help of the Duke of Epernon, a former minion of Henry III, the creator of the royal personal guard consisting of forty-five musketeers, gathered a militia, which she sent against her own son, Louis XIII, however, the only thing she managed to achieve was that the King ceded Angers and Chinon to her hand, but forbade her to return to Paris. Then the Queen Mother started a civil war, which significantly spoiled the affairs of the King. Fortunately for Louis XIII, de Luynes introduced him at this time to the Bishop of Lu;on Armand de Richelieu, who was an excellent expert in the problems of domestic and foreign policy. Not without Richelieu's help at Pont-de-C;, the King inflicted a crushing defeat on his mother, after which the same Richelieu served as an envoy of peace between mother and son.
Meanwhile, the King's young favorite, Charles de Luynes, gradually became the most influential person in all of France, since Louis XIII himself was very reluctant to deal with state affairs, while his favorite came up with new entertainments for the King, in which, of course, not only the sovereign and his favorite participated, but also their wives. Maria's friendship with the Queen grew so strong that even when Maria inadvertently caused the Queen's miscarriage by persuading her to run and skate on the slippery floor of the palace, this sad episode did not lead to their breakup, although the King was very angry with Maria de Luynes, who had fallen so unsuccessfully on his wife. Maria did not limit herself to this powerful influence on the fate of France. When her husband, the Duke of Luynes, fell into disgrace through excessive arrogance, and soon died, either from illness or from grief, or perhaps from some third cause, his cheerful widow did not grieve for long, so that her two children, Louis-Charles and Anne-Marie, quickly acquired a stepfather in the person of a contemporary of the late Charles de Luynes, Marie's first husband, Claude of Lorraine, Duke of Chevreuse, son of that same Henry de Guise, nicknamed the Marquess, who dealt with Admiral de Coligny and inspired Charles IX to the treacherous massacre of the Huguenots on St. Bartholomew's Day massacre on August 24, 1572, when only by a miracle Henry of Navarre, the future King of France Henry IV, father of Louis XIII and grandfather of Louis XIV, escaped death. From then on, Marie was known as the Duchess of Chevreuse, a name by which she entered history and by which our dear readers know her from our novels about the Musketeers. The skill of subtle intrigue, acquired by Marie from her first husband, remained her favorite and main occupation, which is explained by her opinion that the entire royal family of France is only a means to create happiness for Marie, which she understood as power, wealth and nobility.
At first, Marie became very close to Richelieu, the prot;g; of her first husband. She even encouraged Anne of Austria to have relations with him behind the King's back, but the Queen was afraid that the First Minister, who already almost held all of France in his hands, was using her only as a means to further strengthen his power, either by increasing his influence through her on the King, or by discrediting her in the eyes of the King in order to gain even more trust, not only in matters of politics, but also in the area of family affairs, which for Louis XIII was a much more important area.
When Richelieu began to rush Maria with her mediation, she came up with a dangerous joke, telling the cardinal that the Queen was eager to see him dance the saraband, after which she would no longer be able to resist the Cardinal's persistence. Indeed, in his youth, Richelieu had been an excellent dancer, but such entertainment did not fit with his cardinal title. Maria came up with an entertainment for Anna, which consisted of persuading him to perform a hot dance, distinguished by a rich rhythmic pattern, which requires a certain dexterity and freedom from the dancer. To make the performance more effective, the Queen persuaded the Cardinal to dress up in a corresponding dancer's costume. She told the Cardinal that no one but her would see him, and only the musicians were hiding behind the screen. When Richelieu had almost performed his dance and was expecting a reward in the form of the Queen's favor, he heard a woman's laughter from behind the screen. Then he quickly jumped up to the screen and pulled it aside, revealing behind it not only the musicians, but also the Duchess de Chevreuse in the company of the King's brother, Gaston of Orleans, with whom the Duchess was somehow too friendly. From that time on, the Duchess and the Cardinal became sworn enemies, which did not prevent them from concluding an alliance from time to time to resolve matters in which they were both interested.
Thus, for example, one day Richelieu learned how much the Queen was shocked by the prank of Buckingham, who came on the occasion of the wedding of the Duke of Orleans with Princess Henrietta, daughter of King Charles I. The prank of the Duke was that, having come to the French court as an envoy of Charles I, with whom he also had more than friendly relations, similar to those in which de Luynes had been with Louis XIII, the Duke, as if by accident, touched the thread that held a thousand pearls strewn across his ceremonial suit. The pearls rolled across the floor, and the courtiers immediately rushed to collect them from all over the hall, which created quite a stir. At this moment, no one was looking at either the Duke or the Queen, but Buckingham pretended that nothing significant had happened and continued, without stopping, to admire the beauty of Anne of Austria, which did not go unnoticed by her. When they began to offer him handfuls of jewels picked up from the floor, he simply waved them off, saying that those who had collected them could keep them. The rich, handsome, generous and in love with her Buckingham did not leave her indifferent. Having learned how much this prank had shocked Anne, and also having assessed the appearance and brilliant luxury of the English envoy, Richelieu planned to discredit the Queen with the help of the Duchess, helping to strengthen her partial attitude towards Buckingham. Maria ardently began to promote the rapprochement between Anne and the Duke.
After a while, while walking along the alleys, the Queen and the Duke entered a labyrinth made of laurel bushes, trimmed so that the bushes formed solid walls. In the center of the labyrinth was a small gazebo, into which the Queen and the Duke entered. The ladies of the court lagged behind the loving couple a little. Suddenly they heard a cry from Anne of Austria, apparently expressing fear or discontent, although it was possible that it was simply a cry of surprise. The courtiers rushed to save the Queen and found her in a very embarrassed state; they noted some disorder in her clothes, as well as in the Duke's clothes. The court gossips did not fail to tell the King about this incident, adding to the story, apparently, very significant speech embellishments created from their own imagination and conjectures. Buckingham was immediately removed from France at the insistence of Louis XIII.
The Duke of La Rochefoucauld later wrote about this incident, indicating that the Duke even managed to scratch the Queen's thighs with the jewelry on his trousers, and that the Queen subsequently wrote a letter to Buckingham asking him if he was sure that she would not become pregnant as a result of this episode. We should not take these notes seriously, since at the time Fran;ois de La Rochefoucauld wrote this, he felt extremely offended by the fact that Anne of Austria, having become a widow, did not share power with him. He cherished these absurd hopes for power only because he had spent exactly a week in the Bastille on charges of participating in a conspiracy with the Queen, but Richelieu released him after a week. While he was in the Bastille, the Queen was worried about what he might confess, and since he said nothing compromising about her, he counted on a lifetime of endless gratitude. Besides, the reason for these hopes was probably that Richelieu later offered La Rochefoucauld the post of general, but the Queen persuaded him to refuse, from which the vain La Rochefoucauld concluded that the Queen would later offer him something much better. So my readers see the real reason for this memoirist's ill-will in Queen Anne, and will fully understand the reasons for these malicious lines, which we have retold in a milder form.
So Buckingham's insolent behaviour did not go unnoticed, although if the Queen had been prepared for such an attack and had received it favourably, she probably would not have cried out, so her reaction completely exonerates her.
The Cardinal decided to use this episode to further cool the relations between the King and Queen, for which he asked Marie de Chevreuse to facilitate the establishment of correspondence between Anne and Buckingham. At first, Marie warmed up Anne's feelings solely on Richelieu's instructions, convincing the Queen that his immodest behavior was not due to rudeness, but to her cavalier's infatuation, which brought some results, the Queen stopped being offended by Buckingham. Over time, the Duchess decided that the Queen was a more reliable guarantor of her career advancement than the Cardinal, so she stopped fulfilling his orders so diligently, but revealed these requests to the Queen, that is, she completely went over to the side of her friend not only in this matter, but in all subsequent ones. However, this did not prevent the Duchess's distant relative, the Duke of Rochefort, from fully defending the interests of the Cardinal and entering into a fight against his own relative.
Our readers know how, at the cost of incredible efforts, d'Artagnan, Athos, Porthos and Aramis managed to save the Queen's honor in the spicy story with the diamond pendants.
After these events, the charming conspirator did not calm down at all. She decided to overthrow Richelieu and was ready to use all her charms to do so. At first, she wanted to attract Aramis to her side for this, but he declared that it was not appropriate for him, a clergyman, to fight against the head of the French Catholic Church.
"Madame, I am ready to do almost any madness for you," replied Aramis. "I am ready to put obstacles in the way of the affairs that His Holiness carries out behind His Majesty's back, but I am not ready to shed the blood of a sacred person who is only one step below the Pope."
The Duchess then tried to persuade Aramis to involve his friends, Athos, Porthos and d'Artagnan, for these purposes, to which Aramis responded with a decisive refusal.
"Just give me their addresses, my dear d'Herblay," said the Duchess. "I will speak to them myself."
"That's the trouble, Duchess, I don't have their addresses!" Aramis lied. "I trusted in my memory and didn't write down my friends' addresses, but my memory failed me!"
Then the Duchess took another lover, the Count de Chalais, whom she persuaded to undertake an adventure aimed at the physical elimination of Richelieu.
The Duchess's plans included the destruction of not only the Cardinal, but also Louis XIII himself, after which it was intended to place the King's brother, Gaston of Orleans, on the throne, strengthening his rights to the throne by marrying Anne of Austria, who, according to the Duchess's plan, was to become a widow as a result of a fatal accident during the assassination attempt. In order for du Chalais to agree to this adventure, the cunning Duchess convinced him that the assassination attempt was aimed at protecting the honor of the Duchess herself, since the insidious Cardinal allegedly planned to kill the Duchess because she did not agree to become his mistress. As is well known, a lover is ready to see a rival in everyone, so he easily believed the Duchess and took this deadly step. The naive and talkative du Ch;telet boasted to his uncle, the Commander de Balen;ay, that in the very near future Richelieu would no longer bother the French with his taxes and new laws, since his visit to Prince Gaston of Orleans would be the cardinal's last trip anywhere. The commander's sense of civic duty or self-preservation was much more developed than his family feelings for his nephew, so he immediately reported his nephew's plans to the cardinal, the conspiracy was exposed, and du Ch;telet was captured and executed on charges of treason. At the same time, the cardinal forgave not only the members of the royal family, but also the Duchess de Chevreuse, maintaining an amazing indulgence towards her, which, apparently, could only be explained by the remnants of gratitude to the de Luynes family for helping him successfully launch his career. There were those who said that the Cardinal's indulgence was an indulgence towards the mother of one of his children. The King forgave his wife, his brother and the Duchess de Chevreuse, but he forgot nothing.
After the death of Richelieu and the accession of Mazarin as the first minister and secret husband of Anne of Austria, the Duchess was almost left out of work. But she was not one to abandon her attempts to influence the very first persons of France. Having created around herself a circle of the so-called Arrogant, she was the initiator of a conspiracy to overthrow Mazarin, in which the Duke of Beaufort and her cousin the Duke of Rochefort, as well as several princes, also participated. The conspirators ended up in the Bastille, while the Duchess herself got off with exile to Tours for five years.
Thirty-six years of marriage to Duke Claude de Chevreuse left the Duchess with three more children, a title and a name under which she went down in history. Having been widowed for the second time, the Duchess continued to intrigue and participated in a dozen conspiracies, in one of which she relied on the elderly Marquis de Chateauneuf, who was madly in love with her and was privy to all state affairs as the keeper of the state seal. All the men involved in the conspiracy, even under torture, hid her participation, being in love with the charming Duchess, which she successfully took advantage of. For example, the Marquis de Chateauneuf's love brought him more than four years in prison, but in comparison with the fate of du Chatelet, this was not so bad. The Duchess intrigued with the aim of Gaston of Orleans' accession to the throne; if this failed, she plotted to seize Lorraine and the surrounding territories from France, entered into correspondence with the royal houses of neighboring states, made promises on behalf of royal persons and broke them on her own behalf.
Finally, she even decided to trade in the various pieces of information that she had obtained as a result of her intrigues. She did not dare to trade in the secret of Anne of Austria, which consisted in the existence of the King's own brother, a twin brother, realizing how dangerous it was. To begin with, she decided to use less deadly secrets, but only information about Fouquet's unrecorded debts. At first, she tried to sell the documents proving this debt to the Superintendent of Finance himself, but Fouquet was not inclined to pay blackmailers and refused without even delving into the essence of the proposal, which was probably his fatal mistake. Having failed in this venture, the Duchess decided to sell this secret and the letters incriminating it to someone who would have to pay even more for them. This person was Fouquet's enemy, Colbert, with whom she was going to become related through the marriage of her children. Unfortunately for the Duchess, Colbert was much less generous than Fouquet, so the Duchess had to reduce the amount for which she failed to sell these letters to Fouquet. They came to an agreement as relatives. Not satisfied with the sum she had received, she persuaded Colbert to arrange a meeting with the Queen, whom she influenced by hinting at the secret of the birth of Philippe, Louis's twin. Acting like the most skilled blackmailer, the Duchess declared that this secret would die with her, after which she complained about the financial difficulties that prevented her from putting her family palace in order and maintaining it at the proper level. The Queen, partly touched, partly frightened, of course, provided financial support to her former friend.
But the Duchess was not satisfied with this double financial support – from Colbert and from the Queen. She wanted to live in the Louvre, near the Queen, she had to participate in politics, she had to intrigue. For the Duchess de Chevreuse, life consisted of intrigues, without intrigues she could not imagine her thoughts.
In addition, the Duchess was the mother of the Vicomte de Bragelonne, which she had only recently discovered, since, having given birth to a child from a casual relationship, she had no intention of taking care of her illegitimate child, and therefore contented herself with ordering the child to be abandoned to its father.
Athos, who perceived this foundling as a gift from heaven, raised Raoul and provided for him financially, formalizing his adoption and transferring the Viscountcy of Bragelonne to his name.
It was to this lady that Athos went with Raoul in the hope of learning news about his friends.

XCVIII. Conversation with the Duchess

Athos came to the first intriguer of France, the Duchess de Chevreuse, in the hope of finding out something about his friends.
- Hello, Count, hello Viscount, so you are alive? I am very glad about that. - the Duchess was surprised, although there was no surprise or delight in her tone about this, her voice sounded even and dispassionate. - Well, I am also infinitely glad that you visited me in my modest palace.
The Viscount thought that the Duchess's palace should hardly be described with such an epithet, but he kept silent.
"But surely you have thought of me because you want something from me?" asked the Duchess, in a tone that did not suggest an answer to the question. "Since the only thing I can give you is advice or information, and since the Count is a man of such intelligence that he does not need the advice of any woman, I suppose you have come to me for some information. Ask."
"The purpose of our journey, Duchess, was to learn whether you had any news of our mutual friends, but your question compels me to ask you to share with us also the rumors of our own death. What made you think that we were no longer among the living?"
"They talk about it everywhere, but I haven't gone into details," the Duchess waved her hand. "Is it worth going into information that, as I see, turned out to be a lie? As for our mutual friends, I don't know any, Count."
"I speak at least of Monsieur d'Herblay," replied Athos. "There were times when he was, if not among the friends, at least not among the enemies of Your Highness."
- Ah, that one! - smiled the Duchess. - He is no longer the musketeer I loved, and, most importantly, I am no longer the seamstress Marie Michon he loved.
"It would seem, Duchess, that not only love but also fidelity must be mutual, or else it is not worth speaking of," smiled Athos. "Certainly, Monsieur d'Herblay remained your friend, and for that he did not necessarily have to remain what the Musketeer you speak of was for the seamstress, whom you also did not forget."
“If he had cheated on me with many women, I would not have paid attention to it,” answered the Duchess, “but he has become too much carried away by one, and this is already unbearable for a woman who for a long time was his only passion, even if she did not limit her own passions to this musketeer.
“I think we can forgive Monsieur d’Herblay his little weaknesses,” Athos replied indulgently.
"Weakness would be to be infatuated with some beauty who is absolutely worthless in politics," the Duchess objected. "Being infatuated with a woman like Anne Genevi;ve de Bourbon-Cond;, Duchesse de Longueville, cannot be called weakness. Women of that family have always been at the very edge of political processes, and if they have not made the history of France single-handedly, then in any case they have not stood aside from them. Being infatuated with such a woman is not a weakness, but a man's strength, if we take into account the reciprocal infatuation, as you call it, on the part of the Duchesse de Longueville, I must admit that Marie Michon is no longer of interest to the musketeer Aramis. The sister of the Prince of Cond; and the Prince de Conti, the wife of Henri II de Longueville, is an important figure on the chessboard of France.
“But you, Duchess, have a very direct relationship with this branch of the most noble noble family of France!” Athos objected.
“That is precisely why I cannot forgive him for such betrayal,” the Duchess replied, and now her voice did not sound like the voice of an indifferent, tired woman, but contained a whole range of feelings. “After all, in her person he simply found a younger and more influential copy of the Duchess de Chevreuse, more effective in all respects than the real de Chevreuse, which I am now!”
“Perhaps this is just a political alliance,” Athos suggested.
“If children are born from political unions, Mr. Count, then such a union is no longer just political,” the Duchess smiled bitterly.
“The Duchess de Longueville is married, so it is not surprising that she has given birth to a child,” said Athos in such a tone that one might have thought he believed his words.
"It is precisely because the Duchess de Longueville is married that I cannot suppose that the Duchess's son, called Charles-Paris, was born of a legitimate husband," replied the Duchess. "I would rather believe that he was conceived by some philosopher I know, even by the Duke Fran;ois de La Rochefoucauld."
“It seems that you will not help us find Monsieur d’Herblay,” said Athos regretfully.
“Believe me, Count, I would help you even in this, but I really do not know where this Aramis of yours has gone,” the Duchess said sadly. “Our last meeting was not in the spirit of tender reminiscences between two old friends. I have ceased to be interested in his movements. I only know that he was going to include himself among Fouquet’s friends, which is not smart for a man of such merits and talents as d’Herblay. At first glance, one could predict Fouquet’s fate: it was clear that he would climb up until he fell down and smashed himself into a pancake. Such people do not know how to stop. He does not see reasonable limits to his greatness, his power and glory. At the same time, he managed to preserve in himself the remnants of some kind of primitive nobility, with which it is simply impossible to survive in a civilized society. If d'Herblay has got involved with Fouquet, he will either die with him or abandon him at the last minute. However, Fouquet has already been arrested, as far as I know, from which we can conclude that our good d'Herblay is either abroad, or killed, or secretly sent to the Bastille.
“Everything you say is extremely sad, Duchess, but you have not told me anything new,” replied Athos.
"Ah, Count, the greatest news of the day is that the Viscount did not perish in the sortie in which the Duke de Beaufort disappeared, and that you did not commit suicide the following day," said the Duchess, and this time Athos caught a note of joy and reassurance in her voice. "It is this news that interests me most at the moment. Tell me how you managed to stay alive, convincing everyone that you were dead."
“I do not know that myself, Duchess,” replied Athos, “but life has taught me not to be persistent in obtaining information that can be dispensed with.”
"Does that mean that you cannot do without information about your friends, Count?" asked the Duchess. "It is a pity that you do not count me among your friends."
“Duchess, you are more than a friend to me, believe me,” said Athos, looking tenderly at Raoul, “but as for information about you, it is enough for me to know that you are safe, because the King will never harm you.”
“How can you be so sure?” de Chevreuse asked with a laugh.
“You have given His Majesty so many reasons to offend you, Duchess, that if he has not done so before, you can be sure that he will not do so in the future,” replied Athos.
"Ah, Count, everyone sees a reason to offend me, but no one sees a reason why I should feel offended!" the Duchess waved her hand. "Do you know that Baron du Valon apparently died on the island of Belle- Ile during the attack on the fortress by the royal fleet, and that Monsieur d'Herblay has departed for Spain? As for d'Artagnan, contrary to his usual custom, he has not led his two hundred musketeers for more than a month, performing instead some unclear functions connected, apparently, with secret trips throughout France. Quite recently, he appeared in Paris for one day, after which he disappeared again.
“I thank you, Duchess, for your useful information,” said Athos, after which he stood up and bowed, intending to leave the palace.
"Count, I beg you to leave the Viscount with me for a while," said the Duchess hastily. "I need to talk to him about things that you apparently haven't had time to talk to him about."
“I dare not refuse you this request, Duchess,” the Count replied with a smile. “Raoul, you did well to remain silent while the Duchess and I were having our little conversation, but to be in the company of such a dazzling lady and not to express your delight is, at the very least, impolite. Remember, my son, that the Duchess is your true friend, with whom you can be completely frank in any matter. She probably wants to give you some advice on that delicate matter in which I am not an expert. However, do not abuse her patience and do not tell her about the merits of other women.
“Count! I did not express my admiration for the beauty and intelligence of the Duchess only because I did not dare interrupt you,” said Raoul, and his eloquent look confirmed the truth of his words.
"Ah, dear young man, your delight can only be justified if you compare me with my peers," replied the Duchess, blushing with pleasure. "I am convinced that you are surrounded by ladies much more attractive than the elderly Duchess, who has lived a difficult life."
“Madame, your modesty only complements the set of wonderful qualities that I mentioned,” Raoul answered gallantly.
“I will not disturb your conversation, Duchess, and I thank you once again for the information you have given me,” said Athos, after which he tenderly kissed the Duchess’s hand, who immediately offered him her other hand, which received the same kiss.
“ Count, you make me think that perhaps I have been paying attention to the wrong things,” sighed the Duchess coquettishly. “How often do we women miss our happiness, chasing after phantoms, when perhaps it does not consist at all in what we are striving for, and perhaps it was not as inaccessible as we thought!”
“Some men can sometimes say the same about themselves, Duchess,” replied Athos, looking into de Chevreuse’s eyes.
“There was a moment when I almost thought that I could marry her,” thought Athos, leaving the Duchess. “However, that’s nonsense!”
Athos remembered the song that d'Artagnan often sang in his presence.

Two types of happiness

“Why does a soldier need a woman?
After all, you are not your own master!
It's much better if you're alone.
When your profession is war,

No, a musketeer doesn't need a wife!
You haven't been home for months!
Whatever vow she made,
It's unlikely that I will remain faithful to you.

There is no point for us in marital chains:
Everyone has their own life!
Do you want to get married? No, my friend, hold on!
Don't make decisions in a hurry!

But if he was so stupid,
He led his girlfriend to the waters of the crown,
Say to free life: "The end!"
Now you are a monogamist, toothless and stingy.

Another kind of Happiness does not come once a year,
I would like to experience it at least once in my life!
It happens on the evening of your wedding.
And the day you got your divorce."

"If there is a man with whom I could be happy without all these numerous plans to transform what I have never been able to improve, then perhaps this man must be in everything like the Comte de la F;re," thought the Duchess, watching Athos leave. "But he is only a count! Ah, if only he were a prince!"

XCIX. Spouses

No matter how long Philippe delayed meeting the Queen, he knew it was inevitable. His encounter with La Valli;re had given him his first experience of intimacy with a woman, and had also convinced him that it was not at all necessary to love the one with whom he entered into a close relationship. Philippe was convinced that the feeling called love in the books he had been able to read during his imprisonment could only be felt for one woman, and that woman was currently the Princess of Monaco. For this reason, she could not belong to him. The woman who not only belonged to him by right of the one whose place he had taken, but to whom he belonged as a husband was Maria Theresa, the Queen. Separation from her could have caused an international scandal. Neglect of marital duty would have been immediately noticed, first by the family, and then by all the courtiers, which also could not have remained without consequences. Thus, visiting Maria Theresa at least once every two months was necessary.
Philippe had set this date for himself and tried to prepare for the meeting as best he could. He had prepared an escape route, just in case. If the meeting did not take place properly, he could cite the unrest in connection with international events. Relations with Spain had again become strained, despite the fact that Louis XIV's marriage to Maria Theresa had been concluded to settle them.
“Madame, I beg your pardon for the fact that I too often neglect to communicate with you,” said Philippe one evening, addressing the Queen.
"Your Majesty has the right to do as she sees fit," replied the Queen. "I shall be glad to see you on my side whenever you deem it necessary."
“Necessity is not a concept that should regulate meetings between spouses,” Philip objected, finding that he himself did not believe what he was saying.
"In the first months of our marriage, Your Majesty, only the need to carry out other more urgent tasks could distract you from communicating with me after dinner," the Queen said with a sigh. "Now it is only the need to maintain the appearance of a happy marriage that compels you to these meetings."
“Nothing can compel me, I am the King of France, and the only orders that matter to me are the orders of God,” Philippe replied. “Even the orders of the Pope matter to me only insofar as I am prepared to see in him the messenger of God.”
“It is precisely these regulations that dictate that any King of Europe must visit his wife at least occasionally,” the Queen said sadly. “And I am glad of this, because otherwise, I believe, I would see Your Majesty even less often than I do at present.”
"Do you want a fight?" Philip asked haughtily, hoping that the conversation would escalate, which would allow him to feign resentment and avoid intimacy with the Queen.
“Your Majesty, I bow before you and am ready to fulfill your wishes whenever you wish, in whatever form you wish to demand,” the Queen said submissively.
“I just want to hug you and sleep peacefully,” Philip replied.
"Thank you, Your Majesty," replied the Queen. "Come to my bed."
Philip, encouraged by the thought that he would not have to go beyond the bounds of respectful tenderness, readily crawled under the covers and embraced the Queen. Maria Theresa embraced Philip and buried her face in his chest. Her warm breath soothed Philip, so he embraced the Queen in return.
After half an hour of such tenderness, Philip realized that he wanted more than just to tenderly embrace the Queen, especially since he did not want to fall asleep peacefully at all.

The Queen felt again as if their marriage had taken place only that day. She was happy and showed special tenderness to Philip, who stayed with her all night.
In the morning Philippe left the Queen's bedroom in an excellent mood. De Saint-Aignan, noticing the change in mood, decided that the King had returned to the Queen for good and for this reason would leave Mademoiselle de La Valli;re.
"How did you sleep, Your Majesty?" asked de Saint-Aignan.
“Excellent, Saint-Aignan, thank you,” Philippe replied. “I hope you do too?”
"Yes, Your Majesty!" replied de Saint-Aignan. "I dreamed of the Archangel Gabriel."
“What did he talk to you about?” asked Philip.
“He told me that Your Majesty had decided to leave Mademoiselle de La Valli;re,” said de Seigne-Aignan.
- I know, I know! - Philip grinned. - He told me about this conversation of yours.
“Your Majesty also spoke with the Archangel Gabriel?” de Saint-Aignan became inspired, believing that he had correctly guessed the King’s intentions.
- Of course! - answered Philippe. - He told me that he had met you, and that he had had a long conversation with you, after which he said to me: "Keep in mind that de Saint- Etienne has gone mad!"
“You are probably right, Your Majesty,” said the embarrassed courtier. “I must have been a bit out of my mind last night. It was all because of the Brussels sprouts that I had the misfortune to eat before going to bed. Forgive me, Your Majesty!”
Philippe nodded graciously and embraced de Saint- Aignan.
- Next time, choose your diet before going to bed carefully, my dear friend! - Philip said softly and went into his office. - And not every stupid thing you dreamed about should be recounted. Especially not to me. Sometimes, on the contrary, what you had the chance to see not in a dream, but in reality, is better considered a dream and not told to anyone about it.
“I bow before the wisdom of Your Majesty,” replied de Saint-Aignan.
- What is so wise about reading books at least sometimes, and rereading what you like twice, three times, or four times, so as to remember it, and throwing out of your head what you don’t agree with? - asked Philippe. - Why should I part with Mademoiselle de La Valli;re, who, God willing, will soon give me a son or a daughter?
"God has blessed your pure feelings for this charming mademoiselle!" exclaimed de Saint-Aignan with feigned admiration.
- My dear, you have just said very reasonable words, but even very reasonable words should not be shouted out to the whole Louvre, - answered Philippe. - What I know, I know, what I have allowed you to know, does not necessarily have to be divulged on every corner. Sooner or later, the people will find out everything, but why talk about it as if it were an accomplished fact, when in this unstable and restless world anything can happen? If now you call the conception of a child a blessing from God, and if, God forbid, this birth does not take place for one reason or another, or the child is born dead or sick, which, unfortunately, also happens, are you really going to announce to everyone that God has cursed my feelings for this pure-hearted and pure-minded mademoiselle? My advice to you: say only what needs to be said, and in other cases, keep quiet, and then you will pass for smart, and I will not have to retell you the words that Archangel Gabriel said to me about you in my dream.
De Saint-Aignan bowed again, promised to think more and talk less, then took his leave and left, embarrassed.
"Well, I have experimented and learned how my rudeness affects them," thought Philippe. "The result coincided with my expectations. Tomorrow I will caress de Saint- Aignan, and he will dig the earth, carrying out my orders. All of them must not be completely sure of my favor, my favors, like my punishments, must be effective and unpredictable, except in cases where guilt or merit is obvious to everyone. Then they will strive to curry favor with me. Colbert said that balls should be given more often, made free, but the guests should be forced to spend money on trifles that are necessary for a participant in the ball. Thus, as he showed me in calculations and projects, these balls will not only pay for themselves, but will also bring considerable income to the treasury. All these grandees, the highest nobles – marquises, barons, counts, dukes, peers and princes should strive to prove themselves at court, instead of locking themselves in their castles, saving money, weapons and cherishing ambitions, dreaming of complete independence and self-government. Colbert is right, self-government should not be elected, but appointed. Everything in this country should come from the King. That is what the book "The Prince" that d'Artagnan gave me taught me. And not only it, and not only this. What an entertaining game it is – governing a state, governing people! If only I don't get carried away!"

“Your Majesty!” Philip heard, he looked around and saw the Queen.
“Yes, what is it?” he asked.
"May I hope that you will visit your dear wife again this evening?" asked the Queen.
"My dear wife not only may hope for it, but must always expect it," Philip replied. "And if our meetings do not take place as often as you would like, then, believe me, it grieves me no less than you, my dear. Business sometimes prevents me from doing justice to your beauty and tenderness."
The Queen seemed happy. It is quite possible that she was. At any rate, she twittered some charming nonsense, bowed, and went away in a very high spirit.
"In my opinion, she is no worse than that hypocrite de La Valli;re," thought Philippe. "And why did my brother begin to neglect her and prefer that lame woman? Apparently, it is a simple desire for variety!"
 

C. Morning at the Louvre

Colbert, who came to the King with papers requiring signature, tried to portray a mournful grimace on his face.
"What's wrong, Colbert?" Philippe asked. "Did you sleep badly? Did you also eat too many Brussels sprouts before bed last night?"
“I have received some sad news, Your Majesty,” Colbert replied sadly.
"To begin a conversation with sad news is rather cruel to your King, Colbert," Philippe replied. "However, to end a conversation with sad news is even more cruel. Well, since we have already started this conversation, finish it. What happened between you?"
“Monsieur d’Herblay, or the man who pretended to be Monsieur d’Herblay, died under tragic circumstances,” Colbert reported.
- Really? - Philippe exclaimed. - How did you find out about this, Mr. Colbert?
“I received news of this event,” Colbert replied.
"Since you received news of this too quickly, Monsieur Colbert, I conclude that you sent your spies on the trail of Monsieur d'Artagnan, who was carrying out my special mission," said Philippe harshly. "In that case, I can also assume that your spies were involved in the death of the prisoner. I do not admit the idea that Monsieur d'Artagnan was so careless in carrying out my mission that this carelessness led to the death of the man he was accompanying. Therefore, the cause of this misfortune was you, or your messengers, which is the same thing for me.
“Allow me to justify myself, Your Majesty,” said Colbert.
"Your only excuse is that your information is wrong, Monsieur Colbert. And pray to God that it turns out to be so! I am sending a commission at once to investigate the causes of this misfortune, and if the commission establishes even the slightest involvement of you in this unfortunate event, you will lose your head, Monsieur Colbert," Philippe cut in dryly. "I am placing you under house arrest, Monsieur Colbert. From this moment on, you will return to your home and will not leave it until I invite you."
Colbert stood up, bowed and left, leaving the papers on the King's desk.

Philip took the bell and rang it. He ordered the footman who came in to invite Lieutenant d'Arlencourt to him.
- Lieutenant, you have been replacing Captain d'Artagnan for over a month now and have proven that you deserve a promotion, - said Philippe. - I have no time to issue you a patent of senior lieutenant of the king's musketeers, but this will be done as soon as you return from the trip I am sending you on. But I am already confirming this decision of mine with the following document.
With these words, Philippe handed d'Arlencourt a document in which the sergeant read the following:

"The King's order.

Lieutenant of the King's Musketeers, Monsieur d'Arlencourt, is ordered to go after Captain of the King's Musketeers, D'Artagnan, who is escorting a prisoner to the fortress on the island of Saint-Marguerite, accompanied by four of the King's Musketeers. The Lieutenant and his Musketeers are charged with the duty of providing any necessary assistance to Captain d'Artagnan, at whose disposal he immediately places himself. In the event that any unforeseen events occur with Captain d'Artagnan's expedition, Lieutenant d'Arlencourt is ordered to conduct a detailed investigation of all the circumstances of the incident.
The authorities of all the cities along the route of Monsieur d'Arlencourt are ordered to provide him with every assistance as head of the Royal Commission of Inquiry.

King of France Louis XIV.

“This order has the force of a patent of the first lieutenant of the musketeers, Monsieur d’Arlencourt,” added Philippe. “Which, as you know, makes you equal to a major of the guards. During your absence, transfer the command of the king’s musketeers to Sergeant d’Ephin;. I must say that Captain d’Artagnan was escorting a dangerous state criminal, who, at the same time, is a valuable witness, his life and health are of particular value to me. Captain d’Artagnan knows this. I do not admit the idea that he could be guilty of causing any harm to the health, much less the life, of the criminal he was escorting. However, you must investigate the circumstances of the accident, if it took place, with all objectivity, and any conclusion you make must be made on the basis of the evidence, clues, and testimony you have collected. Refrain from superficial and hasty conclusions. If you can't draw conclusions, just gather all the evidence and all the information, I will draw conclusions myself. I must make sure that you understand me correctly. So repeat my instructions.
“I, with four musketeers, place myself at the disposal of Monsieur d’Artagnan, if the mission entrusted to him to deliver the criminal to the fortress on the island of Saint-Marguerite is carried out as it should be done, ” said d’Arlencourt. “If it turns out that the criminal has suffered physically, that is, he has suffered bodily harm, wounds, or even more so, he has died, then my mission is to investigate the reasons for this, to collect evidence and testimony about all the circumstances as accurately and completely as possible. If these circumstances are not so clear that I can make an infallible conclusion about the causes and the culprits, then I must simply deliver this information to Your Majesty, whatever it may be, and no matter what person it points to as the potential culprit of these deplorable consequences. The life and health of this criminal are of the utmost importance, and in the event that he is not harmed, I and my men are at the disposal of Captain d'Artagnan, first of all, in order to assist in preserving the life and health of the said person.
“Everything is absolutely certain, leave immediately,” said Philip.
D'Arlencourt stood at attention, clicked his heels and walked out of the King's office.

CI. Lyon

After de Trabu;on, his wife, and First Lieutenant d'Elsorte had left d'Artagnan's carriage, leaving Lieutenant de Lortie on the battlefield, and after they had spent the night at the Two Pistols inn, Madame Olivia took command of the expedition.
“Didier, wait here for the captain’s carriage, and I’m going to Lyon,” she ordered.
"Wouldn't it be better for us all to wait here at the inn for d'Artagnan's carriage?" asked de Trabu;on.
“No better,” replied Madame Olivia. “We do not know whether he will go on or decide to turn back. In any case, he will not abandon the carriage, so we will always be able to catch up with him. But we would like to know whether there has been a clarification of the order previously received, or whether a new order has been received from Monsieur Colbert. The dovecote is in the suburbs of Lyon, and an hour will be enough for me to get there and back. But this order may be very important for your career. I am going.”
“I am uneasy about letting you go alone,” lied de Trabu;on, who would not have minded being a widower, so disgusted was he with his wife’s guardianship, although he acknowledged her rightness in every individual case.
"Nonsense!" Madame Olivia waved her hand. "It's me who's worried about leaving you practically alone against Captain d'Artagnan."
"But I'm not alone!" cried Didier. "I have Senior Lieutenant d'Elsorte!"
- Haven't you noticed that d'Artagnan is not alone? - Olivia was surprised. - After all, someone shot at us from the captain's carriage, and shot quite accurately, considering that it was dark and we were galloping, but it did not save de Lortie. He is, at the very least, seriously wounded, but I think he is dead, because he did not make a sound, he fell as if mown down. So if you want to fight, there will be two of you against two. This is a guaranteed defeat for you, dear Didier. Some kind of cunning is needed to kill both of you, and you are not capable of cunning, my mind is needed here.
“And what would you advise me in this situation, Olivia?” asked Didier.
— In order to advise, it is necessary to know. That is why I am going to get a letter from Monsieur Colbert. Sit quietly, do not attack if the captain’s carriage stops at this inn, do not show your nose out of the rooms, lock yourself with the latch. Just gather information. However, I believe that, having lost the prisoner, he will turn towards Paris. We will catch up with him, and you will kill him, if we work out a good plan. If I work it out. I only require confirmation of this order from Monsieur Colbert. Wait.
With these words, Madame Olivia resolutely left the room and headed for the stables. Briskly jumping into the saddle of her horse, she rode out onto the direct road to Lyon and spurred her horse into a gallop.

Arriving at a small house on the outskirts of Lyon, Madame Olivia jumped off her horse, threw the reins to a peasant who met her, and ran up the stairs leading to the dovecote. Taking a recently arrived pigeon from its perch, she cut the thread on its leg with a knife, unwound the note, and read the following message from Colbert:

"The prisoner, whom d'Artagnan is escorting, is to be rescued and delivered alive to Paris, excluding communication with anyone. I allow Captain d'Artagnan to be killed. K."

"Damn him!" cried Madame Olivia. "I shot the wrong man. Well, let's correct our mistakes."

After this, Madame Olivia ran down the stairs, jumped back on her horse and raced back to the Two Pistols Inn.

CII. D'Artagnan's Experiment

The breakfast which the innkeeper served to the King and his companions was quite decent, and the King, cherishing the thought of returning to the throne, ate it with appetite.
“I could consider my current journey as a short rest from state affairs,” he said to d’Artagnan, “if I could decide for myself where to go next.”
- Your Majesty, nothing could be simpler! - answered d'Artagnan. - Decide where we are going next?
"Are you prepared to go with me in any direction I suggest?" the King asked incredulously.
“Exactly so, Your Majesty,” replied the captain.
“What caused this change in your attitude towards the task given to you?” the King was surprised.
"The commission was valid as long as everyone knew that Your Majesty was alive," the captain replied. "However, there are three circumstances that exempt me from this commission."
"What are these circumstances?" asked the King in amazement.
"The first circumstance is that the people who attacked us believe that they have killed you," replied d'Artagnan. "This gives us some freedom of action."
- Excellent, Captain! - the King agreed. - What is the second circumstance?
“The second circumstance is that Your Majesty has sent an order to Monsieur de Saint-Mar to arrest anyone who arrives on the island of Saint-Marguerite and to keep them in custody until the commission of inquiry sent there by Your Majesty, having the appropriate order, arrives there,” d’Artagnan said dispassionately.
“How do you know?!” the King cried out rather emotionally.
“I only made a guess based on your words about an unpleasant surprise, Your Majesty, but your exclamation convinced me that my guess was correct,” the captain replied.
“Let’s say so,” the King agreed, calming down. “What is the third circumstance?”
“I dare to remind you, Your Majesty, that yesterday you used my handkerchief to wipe the sweat from your face,” replied d’Artagnan, “and this is the third circumstance that I had the honor of informing you of.”
"What nonsense!" cried the King. "What does it matter that I took your handkerchief? I don't understand you!"
"I used this same handkerchief to cover a jar of powder that I received from an Indian," the captain replied. "A little powder remained on the handkerchief, but you didn't notice it in the twilight."
“Are you saying that I’m dirty?” Louis asked worriedly.
"Something of that sort," agreed d'Artagnan. "Besides, the bullet that struck the iron mask caused you to receive two small scratches on your forehead, Your Majesty. The scoundrels who shot at you spilled your royal blood."
“It’s nothing,” the King waved it off, “it will heal with time.”
"I think so too, Your Majesty," replied d'Artagnan. "I hope that the scratches received will not cause physical suffering to Your Majesty. So where do you order us to go?"
“Back to the Louvre, of course!” exclaimed the King.
“Impossible, Your Majesty,” the captain objected. “When I suggested to Your Majesty that we choose the direction of our further movement, I forgot to warn you that two options are categorically excluded. The first is to return to the Louvre, the second is to move to the island of Saint-Marguerite via Lyon. In the first case, it would be a retreat, which contradicts my views on military honor, in the second case it would be madness, since an ambush would certainly await us on this route. So, left or right, Your Majesty?”
“If we’re not going to the Louvre, I don’t care which route you choose,” Louis waved his hand.
“Then we’ll continue through Saint-Etienne,” replied d’Artagnan. “We’ll leave in ten minutes.”

CIII. Revelations of the Duchess

The Duchess de Chevreuse once again carefully examined Raoul's appearance and was satisfied.
"My dear young man, your views on women are so naive that they threaten not only your happiness, but, as I regret to say, your very life," the Duchess said slowly, choosing her words carefully. "If your intention to die heroically were to come true, I would be extremely upset. Keep in mind that I take the most active part in your fate!"
“The Duchess is unusually kind,” answered Raoul.
"It is not mere curiosity, Viscount," the Duchess continued. "Tell me, did the Count ever tell you anything about your mother? After all, I knew her."
“The Count never said anything to me on this subject, and I am accustomed not to be interested in this question,” answered Raoul.
"How offensive!" said the Duchess. "However, the Count knew her so little! Not at all as well as I did."
“Then would you tell me about her, Duchess?” asked Raoul.
"It is impossible to tell everything you know about a person in one hour or even in a whole evening. What exactly interests you?" asked the Duchess.
“I am interested in everything that Madame will deign to tell about her, but first of all, of course, what was her character and appearance like? I have often imagined her and I am sure that she was kind and beautiful,” said Raoul.
"Perhaps so," agreed the Duchess. "She may not have always acted wisely, and sometimes committed acts of which she should have been ashamed, but if she made mistakes, she did so sincerely, and if she brought misfortune to anyone, it was unintentionally."
“I don’t dare to judge her and I don’t ask you about her shortcomings; for me she consists only of virtues,” Raoul objected.
- In that case, how do you explain the fact that the Count never said anything about her? - smiled the Duchess. - He didn’t even say whether he liked her or not?
"I believe that the Count's relationship with my mother did not last long, and I always thought that my mother died very early, perhaps in childbirth," Raoul said with sadness in his voice. "In that case, it would be difficult for the Count to talk to me about her, since I became, apparently, the involuntary culprit of her death. For this reason, I always ask the Lord to grant her paradise in heaven and forgive her all her sins, if she had any.
“Tell me, Viscount, how often have you asked the Lord for her in your prayers?” asked the touched Duchess.
“So often, Duchess, that I don’t even know the number,” Raoul admitted. “In all my prayers I remembered her, which means that at least once a week I asked the Lord for her.”
- My dear boy! - cried the Duchess. - I can no longer lie to you! Know then that I am your mother, and that I have been extremely cruel to you, since I refused to bring you up with my other children! Will you forgive me?
- Ah, Duchess, has the Lord really granted me the privilege of seeing my mother in person? - exclaimed Raoul. - May I then fall into your arms?
“Embrace me, my son, and forgive me for everything!” answered the Duchess and opened her arms to Raoul.
“I have nothing to forgive you for, Duchess!” Raoul said through his tears. “Forgive me, may I call you mother?”
- Oh, yes, certainly! - exclaimed the Duchess. - But only in private. I ask you to be discreet, Viscount. After all, I was not married to your father.
"Your honor will not suffer in any way from your confession, Duchess, and my respect for you will remain above all else!" answered Raoul. "From now on, I will pray to the Lord for clemency not for some unknown woman, but for you, and my prayers for you will be much more frequent than they have been."
"We must both be reassured, my son, and I, as a mother, wish to speak to you of matters of the heart, which I know have too great an influence upon your life to make me fear for you, my friend," said the Duchess, freed from the awkwardness she felt in showing too much interest in the young man's fate without having sufficient grounds for it. "Now that you know the reason for my interest in your fate, I hope you will allow me to give you some advice in a field in which the Count's advice could not be so thorough? The fact is that, as far as I know, the Count was so inexperienced in the matter of intercourse with women that, of course, he could not be a full-fledged tutor to such a handsome young man as yourself, whose happiness necessarily requires finding a worthy object of love.
“Madame, I am all attention,” Raoul answered readily.
“In private you may call me mother, after all we agreed!” replied the Duchess. “However, it is as you wish, my dear.”
“I’m listening to you, mother, and I’ll try not to miss a single word!” exclaimed Raoul.
“Then this is my opinion of what happened to you, my son. Correct me if I am wrong,” the Duchess began her speech. “You grew up in the provinces and did not have the opportunity to get to know all sorts of representatives of the fair sex closely enough to learn to judge them correctly. For this reason, the very first pretty face made an extremely strong impression on you, and the youth of its owner made you feel the fragility and defenselessness of the object of your adoration, so you imagined yourself an eternal protector of this young girl. Her provincial naivety was perceived by you as moral purity and innocence. Her blond hair, pale skin, refined features and gentle girlish voice you perceived as indisputable signs that you were dealing with an angel in the flesh. If someone had told you then that this girl you idolized would rudely laugh at your feelings, would sacrifice all her innocence and beauty on the altar of a haughty nobleman who was not used to being refused anything, anywhere, and never, and for this reason would not be able to appreciate the sacrifice she would make for him, you would either not have believed her or would have renounced your feelings for her. But no one could have predicted this to you, although if I had been with you in those days, perhaps I would have seen in her the signs of this future destiny. But it is too late to talk about it now, what happened, happened. I would only like to explain to you that, contrary to your opinion that heaven itself has treated you unfairly, and that there is no fate in the world worse than yours, the truth is that for a man, disappointment in a woman is the most natural state and the most probable result of mad love.
“Do you mean to say by this, mother, that there are no women in the world worthy of love?” Raoul asked fervently.
- I just wanted to tell you, my dear son, that all women are like that, the differences between them are not so strong as to attach extreme importance to this. If you like a woman externally, this does not mean that you would like her soul if you knew her thoroughly, - continued the duchess. - I can also say with equal certainty that if a woman does not attract your attention with the beauty of her face or figure, this does not mean that the properties of this woman's soul do not deserve respect and love. And although quite often the properties of the soul and appearance are far from equally worthy of a man's attention, nevertheless, there are such women who are worthy of a man's attention both by their external appearance and by their spiritual beauty. Unfortunately, men who are inclined to identify external attractiveness with spiritual perfection often forgive beauties the strongest vices, remaining their admirers. This is the reason why there are so many beautiful monsters in the world, scoundrels who, like vampires, suck all the juices out of men, and then abandon them, devastated and morally broken.
“Doesn’t this contradict your assertion, Duchess, that all women are essentially the same?” asked Raoul.
“They are the same in what they can give to a man and in what they want from men,” answered the Duchess. “And there is no contradiction in this. But they differ in what they actually give to a man and what they demand in return. This is a great difference. In essence, moral or physical intimacy is not an obligatory pleasure in life. Youth longs to receive these pleasures in one object as a gift from fate, maturity is ready to pay for them, and both are wrong. True love is not given for free, but it is not sold either. There are pleasures for which you can pay, and there are those for which you have to pay, the latter being much more expensive. But true love is not bought with money, although it is not given to someone who cannot take care of the object of his love. No one will give you a recipe for happiness, but a good adviser can keep you from unhappiness that you do not deserve. Do not strive to get what you do not deserve, and then, perhaps, fate will reward you more than you deserve. But for this you must understand that true love, devoted, faithful, eternal, mutual - is such a rarity in the sublunary world that to expect it as a necessary component of life is mad vanity. To expect a girl to love you sincerely and devotedly just because you love her exactly the same means to completely ignorance of life. If you have decided to love, you should not demand reciprocal love, because love is not a feeling that can be demanded. If you love sincerely, then you should not care whether the object of your love loves you in return or shows complete indifference to you. You are offended by life and fate only because your first and, I believe, not fully formed feeling did not find the same exact reciprocal feeling, but this is the same as being offended by fate for not making you God. The belief that it may well happen that to be born God is a much more likely success than to be born a person who has experienced strong mutual love. If you do not accuse fate of injustice for not making you a God or a King, by what right do you challenge it for not bestowing mutual love? Know then that truly strong and unselfish, faithful and eternal mutual love is born on earth much more rarely than royal persons are born. Therefore, if you have not been able to get something from one woman, there is nothing more foolish than to despair. It must be understood that the attempt to get from the one you have decided to love precisely what is apparently impossible to get from any woman in the world is madness, or at least extreme vanity. And in the situation in which you find yourself, there is nothing more madness than frantically seeking death, even a heroic one, and nothing more reasonable than turning to another woman. Remember, my son, that each subsequent woman is better than all the previous ones, because, having gained experience in communicating with them, you will no longer make the same mistakes that you made before.
“You are asking me, Duchess, to give up my love and take up another subject,” Raoul said sadly.
“At the present time, you have apparently not yet fully enjoyed your disappointment in women as such, and in your dreams in relation to that woman who will never satisfy these dreams, and who is not worth the delights that you have in relation to her,” answered the Duchess. “There is pleasure in suffering, and many prefer to drink this cup to the dregs. Thus, a lover deceived in his hopes is unable to renounce his crazy dreams, just as a person with a bad tooth does not allow it to be pulled. Well! Good luck! Continue to put your fingers in your moral wounds, continue to suffer from unrequited love and from the betrayal of your beloved, but do not get too carried away by this, do not bring yourself to extremes. Very soon you will get tired of this, and then, even without my instructions, you will turn to another woman.
“It’s hard for me to agree with you, Duchess, but I continue to listen to you attentively,” Raoul replied.
“A man’s love is not the same as a woman’s love,” the Duchess continued. “A man is blinded by his love. He sees no faults in the object of his desires, and wants to be the first with his beloved, and at the same time he wants her to admire him forever, not paying attention to other men. A woman, on the contrary, when she falls in love with a man, becomes an expert in the subject of her love’s faults, she loves these faults and forgives him for them, because she firmly believes that over time she will be able to rid her man of them, to make him her ideal. She does not insist that she be his first, but she wants to be his last, she does not want him to ignore other women, but she wants him to always find her better when comparing her with others. It is generally accepted that a man wants only one thing from a woman, but in fact he always wants too much from her, so much that almost no woman can give it to him. It is also believed that a woman wants almost nothing from a man, but this is not true, she also wants an awful lot from him, and, moreover, in the form of thousands and thousands of little things, from which most men simply go crazy, after which they run away from their lovers, saving themselves from them in the circle of friends or casual girlfriends. In life, there is no universal recipe for being happy in love. All comedies end with marriage, all tragedies begin with weddings, because marriage is the moment when both parties naively believe that they have reached the point of the highest happiness, and unfortunately, they are right, because after this point they will never experience such happiness again. Just as every person born into this world inevitably goes to his death, so every marriage inevitably develops towards its complete opposite - a form of relationship when both spouses consider each other's company to be the worst of the societies they know.
“You say terrible things, madam,” Raoul said sadly.
“And that is why you no longer wish to call me your mother,” the Duchess nodded. “I am trying to explain to you in one evening what I should have been telling you throughout your entire life, or at least the first twenty years.”
“Forgive me, mother, I’m not used to it yet, and I’m embarrassed by your words,” answered Raoul.
“I must finish my thought,” the Duchess continued. “Louise is a provincial who will not be able to hold the King’s heart for long, so she made the wrong choice. Sooner or later this connection will be broken. It is quite possible that she will even regret rejecting your offer of marriage, but this will no longer matter to you. We are talking about you and your happiness. For happiness, it is not enough to love, but it is also not enough to be loved. We all want this to coincide, but I do not know of such examples in life. In any case, long-term ones. This, however, does not mean that it is reasonable to seek death just because you are not an exception to this general rule. The King, who always gets everything, from everyone around him and almost at any time, wanted something new. Louise is not so ambitious and, in her youth, is very shy and cold, which the King considered signs of the highest purity, innocence, sinlessness. This is the reason for his infatuation. He accepted the challenge and decided to win Louise. She, who has received nothing in life, wants to receive everything, and the best. Naturally, she considered the best to be precisely what everyone around her admires, and this is the reason for her infatuation with the King. But as soon as they see in each other a simple being of the opposite sex who agrees to enter into intimacy, the delights of novelty, the feeling of happiness from possessing what seemed impossible to possess, will go away, and boredom will remain, occasionally interrupted by carnal pleasures, which over time will turn into a habit. Their breakup is inevitable, and this is their destiny. Your destiny is different, my son, turn over this page of your life and start a new one. If you are not ready to do this now, do it later. But do not throw the book of your life into the fire, since it is very premature to judge it by the first pages you read. You still have so many opportunities, my friend, a great destiny awaits you if you learn to manage it yourself. Look at Captain d'Artagnan, look at the Comte de la Fere, finally! Ask yourself, what would they have done if they had been disappointed in a woman's love in their lives? Oh, I know that your father had a similar trial in his life, and even a crueler one, but he overcame it and became what he is. I also know that fate stole d'Artagnan's first and purest love, death snatched it from his arms, but he did not rush headlong under the bullets, he continued to valiantly serve his country, remained faithful to his friends, his life is full and beautiful. Have you not chosen these two great men as your guide in life, and instead will behave like that miserable immature youth from one of Shakespeare's plays, who laid hands on himself, thinking that his beloved was dead, while she was only sleeping? Do you want to follow this strange literary hero, or do you want to be worthy of the name and lineage of your glorious father?
The Duchess's last words hurt Raoul's pride.
“I suppose, Duchess…” he began.
“Mother,” the Duchess prompted.
- Mother, forgive me! I believe that I can prove to you that I am worthy of the honor of being the son of the Count de La Fere!
- My son! - cried the Duchess. - Now I see that you are what you were meant to be! God bless you, my son! We will meet again.
“Tell me, mother, can I ask you one more question?” asked Raoul.
“As much as you like, my son,” replied the Duchess.
"The Count did not call me his son for a long time. Perhaps he decided to adopt me out of pity?" asked Raoul.
“My son, know that no man can ever be sure that he is the father of the children he calls his own,” smiled the Duchess. “But every woman always knows for sure that her children are her children. Well, I tell you as a mother, the Comte de la F;re is your true father, and if other women could assure you of this on the basis of the external resemblance to him that is visible at first glance, then I can assure you of it for the reason that no one else can know this better than I do. Embrace me, then, and let us part for today, since both you and I must consider and accept the new position in which we have only now found ourselves, and in which we should remain all the years of your lives. Say once more that you have forgiven your flighty mother!”
- Mother! Duchess! - exclaimed Raoul. - I tell you again: I have nothing to forgive you for, I thank you for everything, and I adore you, and my first prayers to the Lord will be for you.
The Duchess extended both her hands to Raoul for a kiss, then embraced him and gently pushed him away, saying:
- Go then, and be worthy of the Count de La Fere, your father!
Raoul bowed and quickly left the Duchess's room.

CIV. Ambassador of Spain

The next day, Philip visited the Queen Mother.
"Mother, do you know that a Spanish ambassador is coming to us?" asked Philippe. "He is a certain Duke d'Alameda. Several influential people in Europe have strongly recommended this man to me. I have been told that the proposals he brings us are extremely advantageous for France."
“In that case, my son, this ambassador must be received in a proper manner,” replied Anne of Austria.
"Any ambassador should be received in a proper manner, mother," replied the King. "But this man is unknown! Have you heard anything about this Spanish nobleman? I have never heard of a man by that name, but judging by the number of letters of introduction he has received, he is a very remarkable man."
"You can make inquiries about him, my son, through your ministers and their spies," replied the Queen. "At least, that is what Richelieu did."
“I doubt that you will be able to learn anything about him in France,” Philippe replied. “If you, mother, have heard nothing about him, and if my wife, also a Spaniard, the daughter of the King of Spain, also does not know this apparently high-born nobleman, what can the spies of the Prime Minister add to me about him? After all, I myself, in fact, am half Spanish by birth. But having assumed the burden of royal power, I became completely French. You must admit that the King of France cannot be half Spanish, or even a quarter, or even one thousandth part Spanish. The King of France is a Frenchman and nothing else. Therefore, I am interested in the conditions that the ambassador brought us, if these conditions are favorable to us, I will accept as an ambassador even a Turk or a Zulu, but if the conditions are unacceptable, Philip III himself, the King of Spain, my uncle and my father-in-law, will not force me to accept them.”
"Have you already asked the Queen about this man, my son?" asked Anne of Austria.
“I asked, and Maria Theresa, just like you, mother, had never heard this name,” Philip answered.
“Then the only way to know about him is to accept him,” replied the Queen Mother.
"I think so too, Mother, and so we shall do," Philippe replied. "However, I beg you to refrain from speaking Spanish during the audience. We will be surrounded by our subjects, and if you, I and the Queen speak Spanish to the Ambassador, our subjects may forget for a moment that we are representatives of the ruling dynasty of France, they may imagine that we have secrets from them."
"Your wife would be pleased to hear Spanish, my son," replied Anne of Austria. "I, too, would be glad to hear the language I spoke throughout my childhood."
"We will converse in Spanish some day in our little family circle, mother," replied the King. "But in the presence of the Spanish Ambassador we must remain French."
“I understand you, my son,” agreed the Queen Mother. “Will your wife understand you?”
“She has already been warned, madam,” Philip replied.

All the noble persons of France, whose participation in such events was stipulated by protocol, were present at the audience. In addition to Anne of Austria and Maria Theresa, Gaston of Orleans with his wife Henrietta, the Prince of Cond;, the Prince of Conti, the Marshal de Gramont, the Viscount de Turenne and other noble persons were present.
When the Duke of Alameda entered the state room, the Queen Mother gasped, while Philippe merely looked a little more intently into the eyes of the ambassador. Under this name, Aramis, the same Bishop of Vannes, Monsieur d'Herblay, who, according to a series of orders from the King, was declared a state criminal, was presented to Philippe as the ambassador of Spain.
“So, Duke, you have dared to come to France as the Spanish ambassador,” Philip said in an even voice.
"I represent Spain, Your Majesty," Aramis replied. "All my actions at this moment must be interpreted as the actions of Spain. If the proposals I bring you are considered impertinent by Your Majesty, you have the right to reject them. Nevertheless, I would recommend that you familiarize yourself with them beforehand."
“Where are they, Duke?” asked Philip.
Aramis approached Philippe and handed him a roll of parchment, signed by King Philip III of Spain and bearing his seal. After Philippe took the document, Aramis bowed and took two steps back.
Having glanced over the document, Philip exclaimed:
- However!
After this he read every word again and more carefully.
“The proposals you brought us, Duke, fill us with optimism,” Philip finally replied. “It seems to me that Spain has finally realized that peace with France is much more important and productive for her than petty discord.”
“In the name of the King of Spain, I express the hope that France will understand the same thing,” Aramis replied with a bow.
“May I ask you, Monsieur Duke d’Alameda, to what extent did you personally participate in the drafting of this document?” asked Philippe.
"My detailed knowledge of France, its strengths and weaknesses, as well as its interests and aspirations, has enabled me to take the most active part in the drafting of this document," replied Aramis. "The most advantageous proposals for France are taken from my draft."
"We appreciate Spain's good will and assure you that these proposals will not go unnoticed. For its part, France will respond to Spain with counter-proposals that will be useful to Spain and will contribute to the strengthening of allied relations," said Philippe. "I ratify this proposal, as well as your credentials."
Aramis handed over the credentials of the Spanish ambassador, on which Philippe had placed the sweeping signature of Louis XIV.
“I believe that now Your Majesty will forgive me for that episode at the castle of Vaux that took place,” Aramis said quietly in Spanish.
"Speak French, Duke," Philip replied. "I have no secrets from my subjects."
After these words, Aramis looked attentively into Philippe's eyes. Philippe endured this look with the most serene expression, after which he said in Spanish without any accent:
"The episode at the castle of Vaux, as you called it, is an insult to the Majesty, whereas your actions as ambassador of Spain are actions in the interests of France as a whole. Therefore, it is not so important whether I have forgiven the Bishop of Vannes or not; for you, Duke, at the present moment, what is much more important is the fact that I find your mediation in the affairs between France and Spain useful, and I remain interested in the continuation of this activity of yours in the future.
After these words, Aramis was shocked and discouraged.
"Your Majesty, I thank you for your answer," said Aramis, bowing. "Allow me to present you with this small diamond ring which your father-in-law, King Philip IV, asked me to present to you personally. I also ask you to do me the honor of personally placing this diamond on the ring finger of Your Majesty's left hand."
With these words, Aramis took from his pocket an elegant box, from which he extracted a ring with a superb diamond.
Philippe graciously extended his left hand to Aramis.
As he put the ring on, Aramis glanced furtively at the little finger of Philippe's left hand, expecting to see on it the mark the King had received during his abduction from the castle of Vaux, and which he himself had said that, looking at it, he would remember this insult to his Majesty for the rest of his life.
The mark that Aramis expected to see was not there on the King's left little finger. So Aramis realized that it was not Louis, but Philippe, who stood before him.
"Your Majesty, may I ask you to show mercy to a prisoner?" asked Aramis.
Philip asked in turn.
"On my own behalf, Your Majesty," replied Aramis. "I beg Your Majesty to forgive the captain of the king's musketeers, Monsieur d'Artagnan."
"Monsieur d'Artagnan does not need your intercession, Duke," Philippe replied. "He is currently carrying out an important mission for me."
“In that case, may I ask you to forgive Monsieur Fouquet, Your Majesty?” asked Aramis.
"Monsieur Fouquet has decided his own fate, Duke," Philippe replied coldly. "The matter is closed forever."
Aramis bowed and walked away from the King, and soon the audience was over.

CV. Ambush

D'Artagnan's carriage drove through the twilight forest.
Suddenly the coachman saw a huge fallen tree lying across the road. The coachman stopped the carriage and got out to try to move the log. At that moment, three horsemen rode out of the forest. One of them put a musket to the coachman's head and said:
- Not a word, my dear, or I'll shoot!
The other two rode up to the carriage door, broke the glass, and pointed their muskets into the saloon. Four shots were fired.
After this, one of the riders lit a bundle and threw it into the broken window. A terrifying explosion thundered inside the carriage, and both carriage doors flew off their hinges.
The man who threw the terrible bundle exclaimed in a woman's voice:
— Learn, hubby, how to solve problems!
The man holding the musket to the coachman's head looked back at the explosion, at which moment the coachman pushed him, deftly jumped over the log and rushed into the forest.
"Shoot, d'Elsorte!" cried Olivia. "Don't let him get away, he'll be able to recognize us!"
"Shoot yourself, madam," d'Elsorte answered roughly. "It would be a pity to waste a bullet on this commoner."
"Damn you!" cried Olivia. "Can't you see that my musket is unloaded?!"
With these words she rode up to d'Elsorte, snatched the musket from his hands and fired in the direction in which the coachman had disappeared into the dark forest. Immediately after the shot a short cry was heard from the forest.
"D'Elsorte, go and finish him off," Olivia said.
The senior lieutenant, already accustomed to the fact that in their trinity the commander was the wife of Captain de Trabu;on, took the second musket in his hands and went into the forest in the direction of the bushes from where the cry was heard.
A few seconds later, a second shot was heard from the forest, after which a long silence and complete silence reigned for so long that Olivia lost her patience.
" What are you doing there, d'Elsorte?" Olivia exclaimed. "Didier, go and see what happened?"
De Trabu;on reluctantly followed Senior Lieutenant d'Elsorte into the forest while Olivia rode up to the wrecked carriage and peered inside.

Four hours earlier, the following conversation took place in the White Horse tavern.
"Listen, my friend," d'Artagnan said to Fran;ois in the room they had rented in this inn. "We need a foolproof plan. We are being followed by three horsemen who intend to kill us, and although one of these horsemen is a woman, I find her more dangerous than the other two. I can only cross swords with her to parry her blows, and I have not the courage to shoot her, while she could easily shoot or run us through.
"What are we going to do?" asked Fran;ois.
"Good question, son," replied the captain. "I played a trick on them once already, by changing the powder. Now they've probably bought new powder and new muskets, and are prepared for me to make a reconnaissance sortie. The old methods won't do; we need a new plan."
"You talk about your problems as if I were not here!" the King exclaimed capriciously.
“You are right, Your Majesty, we cannot forget that you are added to all our problems,” the captain agreed. “One could even say that you are our main problem.”
"You impudent fellow!" exclaimed Louis.
"Your Majesty, I would be glad if we parted," replied d'Artagnan. "In that case you would be responsible for your own fate, and we would not be tied hand and foot."
“Let’s hide him in this tavern,” suggested Fran;ois.
"It seems that we have no other choice," the captain agreed. "Your Majesty, please forgive me, but I am forced to tie you up again. I cannot allow you to escape, and I also cannot expose you to the danger of traveling with us. The villains think that you are dead, and we will not dissuade them from this delusion."
- Scoundrels! - the King was indignant. - However, I am no longer surprised by anything and I yield to force, although I continue to believe that the Lord will not leave your crimes against your King unpunished, I will return the crown of France to myself, and I will throw you into the Bastille.
"That is a marked improvement on the promise of an easy and quick death, Your Majesty!" cried the captain. "Our journey together is to our mutual advantage. You are becoming more benevolent, and my fate is becoming more and more gentle. When the most cruel punishment you can invent for me is dismissal, I may perhaps be able to let you go; but no, I must also remember the fate of France."
The king fell silent in indignation, and d'Artagnan tied his hands and feet with fairly gentle but secure knots.
" I advise you not to make a fuss, Your Majesty," said the captain. "We will warn the innkeeper that we are carrying a dangerous state criminal and that you are insane, and we will also show the innkeeper the King's order to deliver you to the island of Saint-Marguerite."
"And you think the innkeeper will believe you?" laughed the King. "Do they leave dangerous criminals under the care of innkeepers?"
"He's right, Fran;ois!" replied d'Artagnan. "The innkeeper won't believe it. I'll have to leave you to look after our prisoner, and I'll deal with these three myself."
“I won’t let you go, father!” cried Fran;ois.
“Suggest another way, and we will think about whether it is suitable,” replied d’Artagnan.
“We’ll say that our companion is ill and we’ve gone to get a doctor, and we’ll strictly forbid the innkeeper to look into this room,” suggested Fran;ois.
"That won't do, my son," the captain objected. "It's decided, I'm going alone, and that's enough about that. Let me remind you that in the event of an attempt to escape, you can shoot our prisoner or stab him with a dagger. And also, be especially careful about this."
With these words, the captain leaned towards Fran;ois’s ear and whispered: “Don’t even think about killing him or even wounding him!”
"Do you understand, my friend?" he asked again in his normal voice. "You can shoot, or stab, or whatever I told you."
"Of course, father!" replied Fran;ois. "In any case, he will not escape. When you return, you will find us both here, or he will be dead."
“Well done, son!” said the captain, clapping Fran;ois on the shoulder and leaving the room.

After this, d'Artagnan donned a coachman's costume over a small coat of chain mail, hid two loaded muskets in his clothes, made sure that his dagger was still in his right boot, sat on the box of his own carriage and rode off in the previously planned direction.
But let's return to the drama that unfolded in the forest.

D'Artagnan, disguised as a coachman, skillfully avoided the musket ball. Taking advantage of d'Elsorte's confusion, he quickly disappeared into the twilight forest, where he turned sharply to the left and hid behind a thick tree trunk. Olivia, who fired in the direction in which he went, naturally missed, but in any case d'Artagnan would have been protected by the tree trunk. The captain screamed like a wounded coachman and hid. He expected that one of the attackers would go to check whether he was alive or not, and his expectations were justified. As d'Elsorte passed by, the captain hit him hard on the head with the butt of his musket. The first lieutenant fell, and d'Artagnan quickly tied his hands, after which he fired a shot into the air from d'Elsorte's musket. While waiting for the next enemy, the captain carefully peered into the twilight silhouettes, his eyes had already become accustomed to the darkness, so he noticed de Trabu;on heading towards him from afar and dealt with him in the same way as with his predecessor, but he did not fire another shot into the air.

Olivia, having waited for the smoke inside the carriage to clear, decided to look inside to make sure that her measures to eliminate the King's messengers had been effective. Inside the carriage, she expected to see the corpses of enemies, but the salon was empty. At that moment, she felt a cold musket barrel pressed against her back.
"Madam, do not move!" she heard the voice of the captain of the musketeers. "I do not like to shoot at ladies, but in the name of my mission, according to the King's orders, I will do it without hesitation. Be obedient and you will remain alive."
As he spoke, d'Artagnan cleverly disarmed Olivia.
Taking three steps away from Olivia, he threw her a rope.
“Tie your feet, madam, and don’t try to be cunning,” he said.
Cursing at the captain, Olivia wrapped the rope around her ankles three times and secured it with an intricate knot.
“Now, please hold out your hands,” said d’Artagnan.
He deftly threw the rope loop around Olivia's wrists, then threw her bound hands over her head and tied the rope to her belt. Then he checked the knot on her legs.
"How shameful to deceive the captain of the musketeers in such a way when he is carrying out a royal mission!" exclaimed the captain. "Your knot comes undone with the slightest movement of your feet. Allow me, madam, to put on a more secure knot."
"Damn you!" Olivia grumbled.
“As many as you like, I’ve heard similar comments in my time,” the captain answered calmly.
After this, d'Artagnan tied the three horses of the criminals to the wreckage of the carriage and unharnessed the two horses harnessed to it. Having thus five horses and three prisoners, he placed each of the assailants on the back of a separate horse, mounted d'Elsorte's horse himself, and led the remaining four horses with the three prisoners on them to the White Horse Inn. De Trabu;on's horse was barebacked, so the captain placed the most intact cushion from his carriage under it.

When the captain's caravan arrived at the inn, d'Artagnan jumped out of the saddle, tied the horses to the fence and entered the inn, where he called Fran;ois.
- Look here, d'Elsorte! - he said to the first lieutenant. - We have known each other for a long time, although not very well. I believe you have carried out the orders of this pair. If you give me your word to return to Paris and not to hinder me any further in carrying out the King's orders, I will let you go your way. Do you give me your word as a gentleman not to hinder me?
“I give you my word as a gentleman that I will not create any obstacles for you and your companions, and will return to Paris immediately, if you so desire, sir,” replied d’Elsorte.
“Then you are free, but do not cross my path until I have completed my mission,” said d’Artagnan.
"Will you give me back my sword?" asked d'Elsorte.
“ Of course, you gave me your word as a nobleman not to cross her with me, at least until my return to Paris, didn’t you?” the captain replied, looking the senior lieutenant in the eye.
"It is unnecessary to repeat. It is my word as a nobleman that I accept your conditions," replied d'Elsorte.
"Go! You may take your horse," replied the captain, handing back the sword to d'Elsorte. "Fran;ois, I believe we can manage the two prisoners. Help me unhorse them, after which we will place them in the inn and finalize our plans."
As soon as d'Artagnan turned his back on d'Elsorta, he drew his sword and, saying, "Then die!" pointed it at the captain's back.
Fran;ois cried out, "Be careful!" and pushed the captain aside, the sword slid along the captain's side and, hitting the chain mail, broke with a ringing sound. The fragment of the sword entered the throat of the horse, which wheezed and fell on d'Artagnan.
"Scoundrel!" cried Fran;ois. "Defend yourself, or I'll kill you!"
With these words, Fran;ois carelessly threw de Trabu;on's sword, hilt first, to the first lieutenant d'Elsorte, then drew his own sword and rushed at him. The swords clanged and a furious fight ensued.
D'Artagnan freed himself from under his wheezing, bleeding horse, took a musket from his saddlebag and shot the horse in the head. The horse immediately went silent, after which the captain pointed his own sword at d'Elsorte.
"Your sword, now!" he cried. "I'll count to five, then I'll skewer you like a capon. One!"
"Two against one?" shouted d'Elsorte. "That's mean!"
- Two! - said the captain. - Don't tempt me! Three! I'll do what I say. Come on! Four!
“I surrender,” d’Elsorte replied, throwing his sword to the ground.
- That's it! - said the captain. - I don't throw words to the wind, at the count of "Five" I would run you through, you can be sure of that. Fran;ois, take the sword and break it.
"It's dishonorable!" d'Elsorte tried to protest.
“You gave your word as a gentleman, and you have broken it,” d’Artagnan replied calmly. “Then you are no gentleman. The rules of honor do not apply to you, and you will no longer need your sword. As for me, your sword does not seem like a desirable trophy. The devil take that horse! You are a scoundrel, d’Elsorte. You are my prisoner, and I promise you nothing good.”
At that moment, five horsemen rode rapidly up to the tavern.
"What's going on here?" their leader shouted.
- Sergeant d'Arlencourt! What brings you here? - exclaimed d'Artagnan.
- Captain?! Lieutenant d'Arlencourt has arrived at your disposal, Captain! - answered d'Arlencourt, recognizing his captain, and handed d'Artagnan the document he had received from Philippe.
“It’s dark here, Lieutenant, tell me briefly what it says?” asked the captain.
“ This document is worth reading, captain, and to put it briefly, as I have already said, I arrived at your disposal with the rank of senior lieutenant with four of your musketeers.
- Well, I am glad to see you here, friends! - exclaimed the captain. - Messrs. de Parisot, de Sigal, de Truffaut, de Fayol, glad to see you all! Take these dears and carry them to the tavern, we will settle them there. In the meantime, we will go to the light, I must read the order. And I ask you to be careful with the lady in every sense, she is very cunning and dangerous.

Approaching the lantern at the entrance to the tavern, the captain unfolded the order and read:

"The King's order.

Lieutenant of the King's Musketeers, Monsieur d'Arlencourt, is ordered to go after Captain of the King's Musketeers, D'Artagnan, who is escorting a prisoner to the fortress on the island of Saint-Marguerite, accompanied by four of the King's Musketeers. The Lieutenant and his Musketeers are charged with the duty of providing any necessary assistance to Captain d'Artagnan, at whose disposal he immediately places himself. In the event that any unforeseen events occur with Captain d'Artagnan's expedition, Lieutenant d'Arlencourt is ordered to conduct a detailed investigation of all the circumstances of the incident.
The authorities of all the cities along the route of Monsieur d'Arlencourt are ordered to provide him with every assistance as head of the Royal Commission of Inquiry.

King of France Louis XIV.

"A fine paper, d'Arlencourt!" cried d'Artagnan. "While these three are still here, I inform you, lieutenant, that I have been twice attacked by de Trabu;on, d'Elsorte, de Lortie, and this lady, who personally shot the prisoner I was escorting in the head. I was thus forced to defend myself, as a result of which these three were taken prisoner, and as for de Lortie, he died in the skirmish while we were trying to defend ourselves and our prisoner. So it remains for you to deliver these three straight to the Bastille, and there, if the king's prosecutor decides to execute them, I will have no objection."
"We are not guilty!" Olivia screamed. "My husband was following Colbert's orders!"
"To hear her tell it, Colbert has nothing better to do than to prevent the execution of the King's orders!" cried d'Artagnan. "Any bandit would start slandering the first minister of France at that rate."
"I can prove it, I have proof!" Olivia screamed.
"Where is it?" asked d'Arlencourt. "I am the head of the commission of inquiry, and if you have evidence of your innocence, the commission will take it into account."
- It will be! I will show it to you in Grenoble! - Olivia said hastily.
"So you don't have any evidence to support your words now? I see," d' Arlencourt replied.
"I swear to you that I will show him to you in Grenoble! Take us to Grenoble!" Olivia continued to lament.
"What can you show us, madame, in Grenoble?" asked d'Artagnan.
"I will give you a letter which I shall receive from Colbert by pigeon post!" Olivia said hastily.
"Lieutenant, I believe this letter, if it exists, may be of some interest," said d'Artagnan. "But she must be carefully watched; the cunning beast may escape at the slightest mistake. Perhaps this whole affair of the letter is only a ruse to get away at the first opportunity."
"They won't escape from me!" cried d'Arlencourt.
“Very well,” said d’Artagnan. “Let’s go to Grenoble. We will need two carriages. One for the prisoners, the other for Fran;ois and me. I have received a slight wound, so I prefer to travel in the carriage.”
"As you say, captain," agreed d'Arlencourt. "De Parisot, de Sigal, de Truffaut, take these to the inn. We'll spend the night here. And you, de Fayol, I ask you to talk to the innkeeper and find out where we can rent or buy two carriages."

"Are you seriously injured, Captain?" d'Arlencourt asked worriedly.
"Not at all, Lieutenant!" replied the captain. "I simply have reasons for traveling in a closed carriage, and I do not wish to reveal these reasons to our prisoners."
- Thank God! - smiled the lieutenant. - Otherwise I was already wondering what kind of wound it is that prevents Captain d'Artagnan from riding in the saddle?
"It must have been a very serious wound, Lieutenant," the captain smiled. "But today the Lord, in the person of Fran;ois, has warded off the treacherous blow from me. Although it's a damn shame about the horse! By the way, Lieutenant, meet Fran;ois. He's my son."
"Once to meet you!" replied d'Arlencourt, extending his hand to Fran;ois.
"Fran;ois, this is Lieutenant d'Arlencourt, my second in command," continued d'Artagnan. "When I retire, I will gladly hand over to him my position as captain of the king's musketeers, if His Majesty approves my petition."
"It's a great honor for me to meet you!" Fran;ois replied.
"It is, of course, more convenient to transport prisoners in a carriage, although this will lengthen our journey," continued d'Arlencourt. "Why do you need a second carriage, captain, if it is not a secret?"
"You see, d'Arlencourt, the prisoner I am taking to the island of Sainte-Marguerite has suffered somewhat from the attack," replied the captain, "but the assailants think he is dead. I would not like to disabuse them of their misconception."
"And you are absolutely right, captain!" the lieutenant agreed. "Since they are defendants, they should not be privy to all the details of the case."
- Exactly so, Lieutenant, - d'Artagnan picked up. - Remember that no one must see my prisoner. As for our brave musketeers, they do not need to know that I am carrying a prisoner. And we both know our people, they are not curious when it is necessary to carry out orders.
“It will be enough for them to know that you and Fran;ois are riding in the second carriage,” agreed d’Arlencourt.

CVI. Dovecote near Grenoble

Old Eugene climbed up to the dovecote and saw the rock dove returning. He untied the note from its leg and looked at the paper in surprise. It was not the paper that Monsieur d'Herblay usually used. Eugene unfolded the note; the handwriting was also foreign.
Then Eugene read the following text:

"Kill both of them, cover up all traces. Remove the perpetrators. K."

"This is not right!" thought Eugene. "One of Monseigneur's agents has started his own game and is using Monseigneur's pigeon post for this! We must warn him about this!"

Then Eugene took from the box a small piece of paper, the kind he usually used to write letters to Monseigneur, and wrote on it:

"Someone is using this mail for their own purposes. This letter arrived by pigeon from Paris, enclosed. Eugene"

Then he took another pigeon from the cage with the inscription: "Paris", tied both notes to its leg, one above the other, wrapped it with thread and tied it with several knots, after which he released the pigeon out the window.

Aramis, after a busy day, came to the apartments provided to him by Philippe in the Louvre for the duration of his diplomatic mission.
“So, what I did not complete, someone else completed more successfully. Who? Only d’Artagnan and no one else! Athos could have done it, but no, he would not have done it for himself or for others. Only d’Artagnan could have taken such a risk. He planned it back when the King kept us both in the Bastille! Of course, it was him! The cunning beast! Well, that’s to our advantage! Why didn’t he tell me? How? Where? That’s right. He didn’t know where or how to find me. Besides, he had no time for me, and he has no time for me now. Now it’s clear what business Philippe sent him on. He’s taking Louis to the fortress on the island of Saint-Marguerite to take Philippe’s place.”

A few minutes later, Bazin entered the room with a tray on which a light supper was laid out.
"Thank you, Bazin, I'm not hungry," replied Aramis. "Have them ask if there's any news by pigeon post."
“I have already inquired, Monseigneur,” replied Bazin. “These two pieces of paper arrived on the same pigeon from Grenoble.”

Aramis unfolded both papers, read them, then leaned back in his chair, closed his eyes and fell into deep thought.
"K. is not the king, of course!" thought Aramis. "The cardinal? The captain? Colbert? He is a very powerful and cruel man. Colbert is suitable. Whom does he order to be killed? Of course, d'Artagnan, who is taking Louis to the island of Saint-Marguerite. And Grenoble is just on the way there! I must warn d'Artagnan!"

Aramis took one of his usual sheets of paper used for pigeon post and wrote the following:

"Eugene, thank you! Whoever comes for the letter, detain him, warn Captain d'Artagnan in my name about the danger to him and his prisoner, with whom we were at Besmo."

After this, Aramis rang the bell. When Bazin entered, he said:
- Bazin, this letter is urgently sent by pigeon to Grenoble.

When the cortege of two carriages, accompanied by five horsemen, arrived at a lonely dovecote in the suburbs of Grenoble, Lieutenant d'Arlencourt led Olivia, who was tied up, out of the first carriage and said to her:
- Madam, you have the opportunity to try to present us with evidence of your innocence. Let's go.
After that he knocked on the dovecote. Old Eugene opened the door.
"Sir, have you any news for this lady?" asked d'Arlencourt.
"You say you are expecting a letter by pigeon post, gentlemen?" asked Eugene, trying to assess the situation. "Tell me, from whom have you come?"
"I have come by order of the King," replied d'Arlencourt. "I am investigating this lady. Have you a message for her?"
“I have no message for this lady, sir,” replied Eugene.
"He's lying!" Olivia cried. "He's lying, he got the message, I'm sure of it!"
"Sir, if you lie, you will be held responsible for treason against the King," said d'Arlencourt. "I represent here a commission acting in the name of the King and by the order of the King."
"You are, judging by your uniform, the King's Musketeers?" asked Eugene. "Tell me, is there Captain d'Artagnan among you? I have a message for him."
"Here I am, my friend!" cried d'Artagnan, stepping out of the second carriage. "What message have you for me, and from whom?"
"Monsieur d'Herblay told me to tell you that you are in danger, Monsieur Captain," replied Eugene.
"Is this really a message from Monsieur d'Herblay?" asked d'Artagnan.
“This is the message,” Eugene replied and handed him the note.
D'Artagnan read the letter and put it in his pocket.
- No doubt! It's d'Herblay! He really is warning me of the danger that threatened me, but which I have already overcome.
"So, madam, we have no proof of your innocence!" said d'Arlencourt, turning to Olivia.
- I beg you, d'Arlencourt, let us proceed as follows, - continued d'Artagnan. - I am sending de Sigal and de Truffaut to take this married couple to the King for trial. We will continue our mission to the end. Write His Majesty a report of what you have seen here and of my decision.
"Yes, captain!" replied d'Arlencourt.

When the procession divided, the carriage with d'Artagnan, Fran;ois and the King rode off, accompanied by three horsemen, towards the southern coast, accompanied by two musketeers and a lieutenant, and the carriage with the captive de Trabu;on couple, accompanied by two musketeers, headed towards Paris, Eugene took a piece of paper and wrote on it:

"D'Artagnan is warned, he is going south with four escorts, two prisoners, a man and a woman, the de Trabu;ons, under the escort of two musketeers are going to Paris"

He tied this letter to a dove in a cage with the inscription: "Paris".

CVII. Raoul

In the evening, Athos met Raoul at the Goat Inn, where he and d'Artagnan had so often met.
"My son, have you spoken to the Duchess?" said Athos, his voice sounding more like a statement than a question.
“Father, I have learned too much, but much less than I would like,” answered Raoul.
"The Duchess told you about..." said Athos, but interrupted himself. "What did she tell you about?"
“About yourself, and about you, and about me,” Raoul answered. “And about my misconception in the area we’ve never talked about.”
“It is so, my son, it is so,” Athos agreed. “Forgive me for not having touched upon a subject so important to you in our conversation, a subject that has ceased to be important to me so long ago that I no longer remember how many years have passed since then.”
“Father, I understand you,” Raoul agreed. “The Duchess convinced me that I was too naive to draw hasty conclusions in these matters. I must not condemn Louise, I knew that myself, and there was never a shadow of condemnation in my thoughts. But the Duchess helped me to look at it from the other side. If before I accepted any action from Mademoiselle de La Valli;re, considering her an ideal and a divine creation, now I accept her right to any action and feeling, recognizing her as a human being.
"That's great progress, my son!" Athos agreed. "I'm grateful to the Duchess for this conversation with you."
"That's not so important," Raoul continued. "She helped me to understand myself, which is much more important. I probably need to think it over again. In the depths of my feelings I have not yet freed myself from the loss I suffered, but in my mind I already understand that I have lost nothing, since I did not possess anything that I considered my own.
"My son, you have matured more in this half day than many a young man can mature in three years!" Athos noted. "I realized too late how important a mentor such as you have found in the Duchess can be for a young man."
“In the person of my mother, Count,” Raoul clarified.
“So you know everything,” Athos nodded. “So much the better. I suppose you didn’t reproach the Duchess for anything?”
“I merely reaffirmed my respect and admiration for her, Count,” replied Raoul.
"That's as it should be, my son, that's as it should be," Athos agreed. "A woman who has given birth to a child has already given him enough. Many women do more harm to their children than good after that. So if she has given birth and gone, then that's quite enough, if that child has a father."
"I have never felt like an orphan, Count!" Raoul agreed. "You were not only my father, but you also replaced my mother. If the Duchess has decided to acknowledge me as her son, I am grateful to her for this, but I do not expect more from her than she has already given me with this recognition and conversation with her. This will be enough for me for many years.
“Well, Raoul, I see before me a mature man, and I believe that now you can return to Blois without harm to yourself, or go wherever you think necessary.
“Didn’t you, Count, tell me that Blois is lost to us forever?” asked Raoul.
"As long as you associated Blois with this lady, who had risen too high in the eyes of the world and fallen too low in mine, my words about Blois were full of sense," explained the Count. "If you see in Blois only your home and dear friends, if the places where you walked with this girl do not break your heart, your return home will not have a disastrous effect on you. I would like to embrace our old Grimaud."
“I, like you, Count, would like to embrace him, after which allow me to go on a short sea voyage!” Raoul answered ardently.
“Did you enjoy our mountain walks so much?” Athos smiled.
“This time I would like to go not to Scotland, but to England, to London,” answered Raoul.
"Someone told me that Miss Mary Grefton was not bad-looking," replied the Count. "Go, my son! With God!"
“I just wanted to visit the court of King Charles II again,” said Raoul, blushing.
“Commendable!” Athos smiled.
"Father! I cannot lie to you!" cried Raoul. "I really want to see Miss Mary Grafton."
“Good day, my son!” replied Athos, and hugged his son tightly.

CVIII. General of the Order

Aramis asked Bazin to wait while he read the letter from old Eugene of Grenoble, as perhaps an answer would be necessary. Having read the letter, the prelate looked up at Bazin and said:
- My friend, do you remember Dupont? Invite him to me.
Bazin bowed and left.

An hour later, Bazin reported that Monsieur Dupont was waiting in the monsignor's reception room.
“Let him come in,” Aramis nodded.
“I am happy to see you in Paris, Monseigneur!” said Dupont with a bow.
"Likewise, Dupont," Aramis replied with a gentle smile. "Remember the name de Trabu;on. The couple, Didier and Olivia."
"Didier de Trabu;on and Olivia de Trabu;on, Monseigneur. I remember," Dupont nodded.
"I want to know every step they've taken in the last month," said Aramis. "My pigeon post and my agents are at your disposal. I want a full report in writing within twenty-four hours."
“Yes, Monsignor,” Dupont replied with a low bow.

When Dupont left, Aramis rang the bell and said to Bazin, who came in:
- Bazin, my dear, prepare my ducal costume. I am going to Colbert.

Less than an hour later, M. Colbert, still under house arrest, was astonished to receive Aramis. When his secretary informed him that the Duke of Alameda, the Spanish ambassador, wished to see him, he ordered him to be called into his study, but when he saw the Bishop of Vannes, whom he knew, he was so taken aback that he almost expressed his surprise out loud.
"How can I be of service to the Ambassador of Spain?" he asked, barely containing his feelings. "At the moment I am somewhat restricted in my movements and would not be able to pay you a return visit, but please make yourself at home."
"Thank you, Monsieur Colbert," Aramis replied coldly. "I feel at home almost everywhere in France, except in those places where the food is disgusting and the wine bad."
“As I have noticed, nothing can keep the Duke in places where he does not like the cuisine,” Colbert tried to be sarcastic, hinting at the Bastille.
"You are quite right, Monsieur Colbert!" Aramis replied, completely dispassionately. "In my advanced years I eat very little, but this places even higher demands on the quality of food. And if they intend to feed me only bread and water, or not feed me at all, then such places are not for me. But I did not come to you for the sake of gastronomic discussions.
“I am listening to you most attentively, Monsieur Duke,” replied Colbert.
"I want to talk about a certain couple, Monsieur Colbert," replied Aramis. "Their name is de Trabu;on."
“This is the first time I’ve heard this name, Monsieur Duke,” replied Colbert.
"You appear to be signing the patent of captain of the king's guards without reading it, Monsieur Colbert?" asked Aramis.
“It probably happened to me two or three times, when I just glanced at the name and it didn’t stay in my head,” Colbert agreed.
“Even if the entire patent is filled in by your hand,” Aramis nodded. “Well, such a selective memory is quite possible for a statesman.”
“What do you need in this regard, as you said?” and Colbert tried to pretend that he could not remember the name of the person in question.
"Captain de Trabu;on, according to your patent, and his wife, Madame Olivia de Trabu;on," Aramis replied. "These gentlemen attempted to organize an attack on the captain of the king's musketeers, who was carrying out the King's orders.
"What scoundrels!" exclaimed Colbert. "Is your information reliable, Monsieur le Duc?"
"Extremely credible, Monsieur Colbert!" replied Aramis. "However, I shall soon receive a more detailed account of all the crimes of this pair, and also of whose orders they were carrying out."
- My God! Who could have given them such an order! - Colbert was indignant and threw up his hands. - They must be mad to dare to commit such a crime!
“I believe you are right, Monsieur Colbert,” agreed Aramis. “These madmen have done serious harm to the King’s cause.”
"Is the captain really dead?" exclaimed Colbert, trying in vain to feign horror.
"I do not rule out the possibility that some of those who were attacked were seriously injured," Aramis replied. "But a crime does not cease to be a crime even if the damage from it was minimized."
“I completely agree with you, Monsieur le Duc,” replied Colbert. “What do you want from me?”
“I want to get these people in order to punish them for the attempt on the life of my friend, the captain of the king’s musketeers, and also for trying to prevent the execution of the King’s order,” Aramis answered in a harsh tone.
"Why do you need this?" asked Colbert. "Do you want to interrogate them so that they might slander an innocent man, pointing to him as an accomplice, or, God forbid, as the leader of this action?"
“Quite the contrary, Monsieur Colbert, I wish to shut their mouths once and for all and exclude the possibility of such insolence being repeated,” replied Aramis.
"But I don't decide anything!" exclaimed Colbert. "I myself am under house arrest!"
"This temporary measure will soon end, I assure you, Monsieur Colbert," smiled Aramis. "Meanwhile, I only need a signature on the order that these criminals be dealt with as I see fit."
- On the order? - Colbert was surprised. - In whose name was this order written?
"From yours, of course," replied Aramis. "Do you want me to read it, or shall we discuss the means by which we can make these scoundrels confess who their accomplices were, or perhaps even their instigators?"
"I don't want to know or hear anything about these criminals!" Colbert exclaimed. "If you have already investigated this case, I don't want to have anything to do with it! His Majesty has clearly indicated to me that I should only deal with finances."
"So you won't sign your order?" asked Aramis.
“I don’t know the reasons why you consider yourself entitled to conduct this investigation, and therefore I cannot engage in dialogue with you on this topic,” Colbert replied.
"I'll be back in an hour, Monsieur Colbert," Aramis replied. "I'll go to the King and get him to sign the appropriate powers."
"I believe you can do it, Monsieur le Duc," replied Colbert. "There is no need to go anywhere. Do you promise that you will not try to get these scoundrels to slander people who are not involved in their crimes?"
"That is not my intention, so you may rest assured on that score," Aramis replied coldly. "I am sufficiently informed as to the motives of these men, and yet I consider the investigations you fear undesirable."
“Give me your paper,” Colbert said abruptly.
Having received the document, Colbert wanted to sign it without looking at it, but decided that such a beautiful gesture was dangerous, since the paper could contain something completely different.
He read the document, which read:

"The bearer of this document, the Duke of Alameda, is free to take the spouses Didier and Olivia de Trabu;on to be punished for the crimes they committed against the King and his soldiers. The question of the appropriateness of the punishment for the crimes of these persons, the Duke of Alameda is authorized to decide on his own due to the secrecy of the matter.
The first minister of France, the controller general of finances, Jean-Baptiste Colbert"

“It says here that I am the first minister of France,” Colbert said in surprise.
"You will be on condition of complete obedience and the absence of any pernicious initiatives like those displayed by those who directed the actions of the de Trabuson couple," said Aramis dispassionately. "Is there anything else that troubles you?"
“Absolutely nothing!” exclaimed Colbert, and decisively took up the pen.
Having made sure that nothing more could be added to this document, since there were monograms in the empty spaces, he signed the document and returned it to Aramis.
“Is that all, Monsieur Duke?” asked Colbert.
"I have some property left in France, both movable and immovable. At the moment it is under arrest," replied Aramis.
“The procedure for lifting the arrest is quite lengthy,” Colbert replied.
“I’m in no hurry,” continued Aramis. “I ask you to re-register it to the son of Anne Genevieve de Bourbon-Cond;, Duchess of Longueville, named Charles-Paris.”
“I promise you this, Monsieur Duke,” replied Colbert.
"Then I promise you, Monsieur Colbert, that your house arrest will soon end and you will return to your duties as minister," Aramis replied. "Forgive me, I wanted to say that you will take up your duties as first minister of France. Just don't forget your promise, I beg you."
“I have an excellent memory, Monsieur le Duke, I will not forget,” answered Colbert.
"An excellent memory?" Aramis asked. "In that case, it seems you really have not come across the name de Trabu;on before."
“Never in my life, believe me,” replied Colbert. “Otherwise I would remember.”
- I believe you, Monsieur Colbert, - Aramis grinned. - So don't get it wrong! And don't repeat the mistakes of the man who issued a captain's patent to Lieutenant de Trabu;on and ordered him to commit a series of crimes against the state and the King. And your second promise.
"I remember," replied Colbert. "Charles-Paris, the youngest son of Anne Janevi;ve de Bourbon-Cond;, Duchess of Longueville. Your property in France, movable and immovable, which is under arrest, will be re-registered in his name, and will be lifted in the very near future."
“Good day, Monsieur Colbert,” Aramis replied, then nodded dryly and left Colbert’s office.

CIX. Princess of Monaco

"Tell me, de Guiche," Philippe turned to the Count, "how long will we be deprived of the happiness of seeing your sister Catherine-Charlotte at our court? Why does she lead the life of a recluse?"
"You are talking about the Princess of Monaco, Your Majesty?" the Count was surprised. "But she left for her own principality with her husband."
"I don't think she was too keen to go to that backwater," Philippe replied. "After her wedding, she continued to live at court for quite a long time until your father, Marshal de Gramont, insisted that she leave court and go with her husband to this very Monaco."
- I agree, Your Majesty, it also seemed to me that she really liked life at court.
"Then tell her that I shall be very glad to see her," Philip replied. "It is not fitting for such a beautiful lady to bury herself alive in such a boring place, I suppose, as the Principality of Monaco."
“Will Your Majesty be pleased to invite the princess together with the prince?” de Guiche inquired.
- Of course, Count! - answered Philip. - Can I invite only one of the spouses without inviting the other? After all, husband and wife are one in two persons, according to the commandments of the Lord. As an honest Catholic, I do not intend to tear the wife away from her husband. However, if the prince has reasons not to accept my invitation, that is his choice.
“I thank Your Majesty for the invitation on behalf of my sister and my brother-in-law,” replied Count de Guiche with a bow.
Philip nodded and turned his attention to affairs of state.

Catherine-Charlotte was not very willing to come to Paris, but she nevertheless arrived there with her retinue and appeared for an audience with the King.
As soon as Philip saw her, he realized that his whole life had been a prologue to this meeting.
"Princess, I am glad to see you at court," he said in the benevolent tone of a monarch. "Your arrival will greatly brighten up the society here and bring to it a long-desired variety," he added more softly.
"Your Majesty, I thank you," replied the princess. "You have always been kind to our family, but I think I did something to upset you during my last visit to the Louvre."
“Oh, that ridiculous trick of your brother, who played a cruel joke on us, I have already forgotten about it,” said Philippe, who was already aware of the reasons for Louis’s coldness towards the princess.
The story of this joke was that the King intended to pay the princess several compliments in private, and the princess's brother, de Guiche, having led the princess into the room intended for such conversations, locked the doors where his sister was, and took the key with him. The King knocked on the doors and asked the princess to open them, but she could not do so, which prevented the gallant meeting. Philippe was deeply grateful to de Guiche for the fact that the princess did not hear the compliments Louis had prepared for her.
“Do you know, Princess, that I have thought a lot about you?” asked Philip.
“It is difficult for me to understand the reasons for such thoughtfulness, sir,” replied the princess. “I hope that it does not consist in the fact that I have somehow offended you?”
- No, Princess! Not in the least! - exclaimed Philip. - It seems to me that I know you a little better than you think, and what I know about you makes me think about you.
“It seems that the insufferable de Guiche has told you all sorts of fables about me?” asked the princess.
"No, that's not it," Philip replied. "May I offer you my arm and invite you for a short walk through the blooming garden? I promise that your modesty will not suffer from such a walk."
“Here is my hand, sir,” answered the princess, lowering her eyes.

“Do you remember, Princess, the unfortunate boy who was found in his youth in the wilderness under the care of two aged duennas?” asked Philip.
“Your Majesty, how do you know?” asked Catherine-Charlotte, her heart beating faster.
“Don’t you think that this boy is extremely similar to me?” asked Philip.
“I always thought about this and could not understand the reason for such an amazing resemblance,” the princess admitted.
“Think about it what you will, but that boy was me,” Philip replied. “Do you believe me?”
“You mean to say, Your Majesty, that you yourself voluntarily lived the life of a recluse, being the crown prince?” asked the princess with surprise.
“I cannot explain to you all the subtleties of this event, but believe me, princess,” said Philip, not daring to tell the princess the whole story of his life.
"Ah, Your Majesty, I want to know nothing but one thing," replied Catherine-Charlotte. "Tell me only the truth: when were you sincere, when I met you, not knowing who you were, and knowing nothing of your destiny, or when, being the King of France, you tried to pay me a few compliments in private, and, apparently, hoped that this conversation would continue in a direction that might cast a shadow on both the girl and the married woman?"
"That young man whom you knew as Philip, who looked at you with a loving gaze because he had never seen another young girl before, stands before you now, Princess," said Philip sincerely. "He who has now seen many young girls ready to hear any compliments from him, even the most dangerous, looks at you with the same eyes, and sees in you as before the most charming, the most beautiful, and the best girl in the world.
“You embarrass me greatly, Your Majesty,” said the princess with a tremor in her voice.
"God knows I didn't want that," Philip replied. "Let's just enjoy the beauty and scent of the blooming garden, just stroll along these wonderful alleys and be silent."
The princess squeezed Philip's hand tighter, which could only mean consent.

CX. Cannes

A carriage arrived in Cannes, accompanied by musketeers, and stopped at one of the taverns, and was noticed by one of the boys on duty at each tavern in this seaside town. According to the instructions he had received, he reported this to the man who instructed him to deliver information about the arrival of any carriage.
An hour later, when the travelers had only just managed to settle in and satisfy their hunger, a man who looked like a naval officer appeared at the tavern.
"I want to speak to the leader of this expedition," the sailor said to the innkeeper. "Tell him that a messenger has come to see him from Monsieur d'Herblay."
The innkeeper took the coin offered to him for this service from the counter and went up the stairs to the second floor. A few minutes later he came down accompanied by a brave officer.
"Who brings me greetings from Monsieur d'Herblay?" he asked.
"Monsieur d'Artagnan, it is I!" replied the sailor.
"I am glad to see here an envoy from my friend!" replied d'Artagnan. "With whom have I the honor of speaking?"
"I am the master and captain of the ship "Swift", Captain Jourville," replied the sailor. "My ship is at your service, which will take you to the island of Saint-Marguerite and back, or wherever you wish to sail, Monsieur d'Artagnan."
"I am very glad of such assistance, Captain Jourville! What else, besides what you have said, did Monsieur d'Herblay tell me to tell you?" asked d'Artagnan.
“He told me to give you greetings from the man who once dropped Marie Michon’s handkerchief and stepped on it with his foot,” replied Captain Jourville.
"I see that you are who you say you are, Captain! I am glad to meet you!" replied d'Artagnan and shook the captain's hand firmly.

Two hours later the ship set sail towards the island of Sainte-Marguerite. D'Artagnan ordered to go round the island and approach it from the south. After the ship touched the shore, he left the King in the care of Fran;ois, d'Elsorte in the care of two musketeers, and he himself, together with d'Arlencourt, headed towards the fortress, where he repeated the same maneuver that he had performed on his first visit. Having approached the distance of a musket shot, he put a white handkerchief on his sword and waved it.
This time, de Saint-Mars himself came out to meet him, accompanied by two guards.
"Monsieur d'Artagnan, is it you again?" asked the commandant of the fortress. "I hope you have good news?"
“It depends on what you call good news, dear de Saint-Mars,” replied the captain.
"I am impatiently awaiting the royal commission which will relieve me of so many prisoners," replied Saint-Mars with regret. "The appetites of my prisoners ruin me, especially that of Monsieur du Valon."
“Perhaps we have brought you good news, and we are sure to relieve you of your prisoners,” replied d’Artagnan. “I have good news for you. I have come again by order of the King, since men in the service of the state do not come to frontier fortresses for any other reason than this. And I have with me, indeed, the commission you are expecting. I propose the following procedure. First, I will show you the order by which I have come to you; then you will show me the order by which you detained Monsieur du Valon and his companions; then Monsieur d’ Arlencourt will show you the order by which he heads the very commission you are expecting.”
“Let’s go to the fortress, gentlemen,” answered Saint-Mars.
“So that you don’t have the desire to keep me there, I would still like to show you this paper first,” said d’Artagnan.
With these words, d'Artagnan showed de Cinq-Mars a document written by Philippe, who had learned to copy Louis's handwriting completely. The document contained, as our readers will probably remember, the following text:

"The King's Command

To the Captain of the King's Musketeers, Count d'Artagnan
Return the prisoner Marchiali to the fortress on the island of Saint-Marguerite and hand him over to the commandant of the fortress, Monsieur de Saint-Mar, under personal responsibility.
In relation to the prisoner, all previously prescribed measures must be observed, namely:
1. Wear an iron mask in all cases of contact with any people who come into contact with him to provide him with food, drink, clothing, and other needs.
2. Do not enter into any communication with anyone, including not talking, not corresponding, not giving any signs, and not exchanging information in any other way.
The prisoner of Marchiali is allowed to read and is allowed to remove his mask when he is alone and all contact with other people is excluded, including contact through the windows of the fortress.

Signed: King of France Louis XIV »

The royal seal gave no reason to doubt the authenticity of this document.

"So I return the prisoner Marchiali to you, Monsieur de Saint-Mars," said d'Artagnan. "He is waiting on the ship. If you have kept the carriage I gave you, I should like to make use of it."
“I never thought to question your authority,” Saint-Mars lied. “Allow me, for my part, to present you with the King’s order.”
After these words, de Saint-Mars took from his large pocket an order which, as readers will remember, contained the following text:

"The King's order to the commandant of the fortress on the island of Saint-Marguerite, Monsieur de Saint-Mar.
Any persons arriving on the island of Saint-Marguerite for any purpose are to be detained and held under arrest at any cost until the arrival of a special investigative commission. Let everyone in, let no one out. If possible, establish the purpose of their arrival, using abstract conversations and the appearance of a frank conversation until the moment when those arriving try to leave the island or, even more so, take anyone with them from the island.
For failure to comply with this order, the guilty party will be brought to trial.
King Louis XIV."

- Excellent! - exclaimed d'Artagnan. - Everything is absolutely correct, we are that very commission of inquiry. Lieutenant d'Arlencourt, please show the commandant your document.

Lieutenant d'Arlencourt, in turn, took out and showed Saint-Mar a document in which the commandant read the following text:

"The King's order.

Lieutenant of the King's Musketeers, Monsieur d'Arlencourt, is ordered to go after Captain of the King's Musketeers, D'Artagnan, who is escorting a prisoner to the fortress of the island of Saint-Marguerite, accompanied by four of the King's Musketeers. The Lieutenant and his Musketeers are charged with the duty of providing any necessary assistance to Captain d'Artagnan, at whose disposal he immediately enters. In the event that any unforeseen events occur with Captain d'Artagnan's expedition, Lieutenant d'Arlencourt is ordered to conduct a detailed investigation of all the circumstances of the incident.
The authorities of all the cities along the route of Monsieur d'Arlencourt are ordered to provide him with every assistance as head of the Royal Commission of Inquiry.

King of France Louis XIV.

"Did you see the word 'commission', Monsieur de Saint-Mars?" asked d'Artagnan in his most amiable tone.
“I acknowledge your authority and fully rely on your decision,” agreed de Saint-Mars. “I hope that you will take these prisoners from me and leave only Marchiali in exchange.”
“That will be so, sir commandant,” replied d’Artagnan, “you can be sure of that, but, like any commission, we must first listen to your explanations of how these gentlemen ended up in your fortress.”

After listening to de Saint-Mars's brief story, the captain said:
- Mister Commandant, you acted absolutely correctly and in strict accordance with the orders of His Majesty. We release you from the necessity of detaining your guests, I ask you to release them immediately and allow them to sail wherever they please. This does not apply to Mister du Valon. I want to see him immediately.
“You will see him in a moment, Monsieur d’Artagnan,” replied de Saint-Mars, and, taking the keys, he headed deeper into the fortress.
Ten minutes later, de Saint-Mars returned, accompanied by Porthos.
- Porthos! - cried d'Artagnan. - I am extremely glad that you have not lost weight!
"D'Artagnan, have you also fallen for the bait of this lying commandant?" exclaimed Porthos. "He seems to be going to lock up the flower of the French nobility in his fortress?"
"Do not be angry with him, Porthos, he was following the King's orders, but now you are free," replied d'Artagnan. "Let me embrace you, but I beg you, do not embrace me with all your might."
"My dear friend, how glad I am!" exclaimed Porthos. "At last we shall leave this accursed island!"
“Don’t be in a hurry, Porthos, I still have a little business to attend to, after which we will leave for the coast together, since, as far as I can judge, you have not accepted my invitation to Scotland.”
"Scotland is so boring!" replied Porthos. "Besides, fate itself has taken up arms against this trip, first in the person of octopuses and shrimps, then in the person of Monsieur de Saint-Mars."
“Don’t be angry with de Saint-Mars and embrace your old colleague,” replied d’Artagnan.
This time he deliberately did not remind Porthos that he must exercise caution, so when the baron squeezed Saint-Mars in what he understood to be a friendly embrace, the commandant could neither gasp nor sigh, but only widened his eyes and tried to take a few gulps of air.
“Enough, Porthos, enough,” the captain came to the commandant’s rescue when he saw that Saint-Mars had already received sufficient retribution for his prank, and if such embraces continued for a few more minutes, the poor commandant would need the services of a doctor.
"Porthos, tell me, was du Chante with you?" asked d'Artagnan.
“Yes, and he, too, I believe, is detained in this damned fortress,” answered the baron.
“Mr. Commandant, apologize to all those detained in the name of the King and release them as soon as possible,” d’Artagnan reminded.
“It is already being done, sir captain,” replied de Saint-Mars.
"Porthos, I beg you to come with me to the ship in the carriage which the commandant will lend us," said d'Artagnan. "We will only take the prisoner and return him to the place he should occupy."
“I prefer to walk,” replied the baron. “I have spent so much time in this damned cell that a walk in the fresh air will not do me any harm.”
"Let's take a walk together after our mission, Porthos," the captain replied. "Time is of the essence, and the prisoner must be delivered to the fortress by carriage."
“ Let’s go,” Porthos answered briefly.

An hour later, a prisoner was placed in the fortress, with an iron mask on his head and a gag in his mouth.
"I remind you, Monsieur de Saint-Mars, that you must not allow the prisoner to say anything to anyone, including you," said d'Artagnan. "You read that in the order. Also, remember that this man is mad. Maintain respect for him within reasonable limits, but do not give him any indulgences in anything, never, anywhere. You are responsible for him with your head."
“I understand everything, Captain,” replied Saint-Mars, “and I am grateful to you for freeing me from all my accidental prisoners. I hope that you will report to the King that his orders were carried out exactly?”
- Certainly and only so! - answered d'Artagnan. - Your actions are impeccable, your service is both dangerous and difficult, although at first glance, it seems, it is not visible. Expect an order of gratitude, a bonus and compensation for unforeseen expenses. All the best, old man!
After this, d'Artagnan also said goodbye to du Chante, to the captain of the ship that had brought Porthos and du Chante to the island, and to his crew.

CXI. Destiny

Aramis was sitting bent over a map of Europe and making some notes when Bazin came in to see him.
“Monseigneur, the de Trabu;ons have been delivered as per your orders,” he said.
“How did it go?” asked Aramis.
"As you ordered," replied Bazin. "With the document signed by Colbert, I rode up to the head of the guard of the southern gate. He promised to send a carriage with these scoundrels under the escort of musketeers to you. They were brought by Messrs. de Sigal and de Truffaut."
“Let them bring this couple into the blue room, I’ll go there now,” Aramis nodded.
Having finished his notes, the prelate rose and went into the blue room, where de Sigal and de Truffaut were already waiting for him, accompanying the bound de Trabu;on couple.
"Gentlemen, thank you, you are free," said Aramis to de Sigal and de Truffaut. "Here is the document of justification on the basis of which I am removing these defendants, read it. You can tell His Majesty that this document is in my possession, and I will return it at the end of my mission."
With these words, Aramis handed them the document signed by Colbert. De Sigal read it and nodded with satisfaction, after which the two musketeers left Aramis.
"So, Monsieur Didier de Trabu;on," said Aramis after the Musketeers had gone, "you have allowed yourself to basely deceive me. You have treacherously killed my agent d'Aunay, plunging your sword into his back when he was not expecting it. You have attacked a convoy carrying out the King's orders, you have attempted to kill Captain d'Artagnan, and you have killed the prisoner he was escorting by the King's orders!"
"I am not guilty of anything!" exclaimed de Trabu;on. "I acted on Colbert's orders! I will complain to Monsieur Colbert!" exclaimed de Trabu;on.
“As much as you like, Monsieur de Trabu;on,” replied Aramis. “But first, would you like to see this document?”
With these words, Aramis took a document from the table and showed it to de Trabu;on so that he could read it. The document read:

"The bearer of this document, the Duke of Alameda, is free to take the spouses Didier and Olivia de Trabu;on to be punished for the crimes they committed against the King and his soldiers. The question of the appropriateness of the punishment for the crimes of these persons, the Duke of Alameda is authorized to decide on his own due to the secrecy of the matter.
The first minister of France, the controller general of finances, Jean-Baptiste Colbert"

"The Duke of Alameda is my name of late," continued Aramis. "And so, Monsieur Colbert disowns your actions and hands you over to me, entrusting and trusting me to punish you for the state crimes you have committed."
"I am not guilty!" continued de Trabu;on to deny it. "It was all her, Olivia! She made me kill d'Aunay! It was she who shot the prisoner, and she threw the bomb into d'Artagnan's carriage!"
"Damn you, you worthless thing!" Olivia said with hatred and spat in de Trabu;on's face.
"We have already discussed possible actions on my part, Monsieur de Trabu;on, in the event of your betrayal. If you remember, on the ship with Captain d'Argenson, we had a detailed conversation on this subject, do you not recall?" asked Aramis. "You promised me obedience, and I warned you what fate might await you in the event that you decided to deceive me.
“I don’t want to know anything and I don’t want to remember anything!” exclaimed de Trabu;on.
"Repent of your sins, tell me the whole truth and accept your fate as a Catholic should," Aramis suggested. "Have a drink and calm down."
With these words, Aramis took one of the three goblets that stood on the table in front of them and raised it to de Trabu;on's lips.
"I don't want to die as a Catholic, or a Huguenot, or a heretic, or a Muslim! I'm not guilty of anything, and you're obliged to let me go!" de Trabu;on persisted. "I won't drink this!"
“I have no intention of killing you, de Trabu;on,” replied Aramis, shrugging his shoulders.
After this, Aramis drank to the bottom of the cup that he had offered to de Trabu;on.
"I assure you, de Trabu;on, the drink I offer you can only make your fate easier," smiled Aramis. "And you, madam, would you like to drink from this cup?"
" Go ahead," Olivia said coldly. "I hope it's poison."
After that, she calmly drank the drink offered to her.
"And you, de Trabu;on, would you prefer to endure all the tortures you deserve?" asked Aramis.
“The hell with you!” exclaimed de Trabu;on, seeing that nothing terrible had happened to his wife, she had only fallen into a state of mild intoxication.
Aramis raised the goblet to de Trabu;on's lips, which Didier emptied in three gulps.
After this, Aramis left the blue room. Didier looked after him with hatred, and suddenly felt his head becoming heavy, all objects before his eyes began to float, he felt a deep calm and sank into a long sleep.

De Trabu;on heard voices in his sleep that seemed to be arguing in a language unknown to him.
He felt someone give him a gentle kick, then a bucket of cold water was thrown on his face. Snorting, he opened his eyes with difficulty and looked around.
Before him stood a Turk in rich clothes.
- Wake up, you worthless man! - said the Turk in broken French. - You will eat my eunuch. My people will teach you what you must do. These women will fill my harem.
De Trabu;on looked where the Turk was pointing and saw his wife.
- Yes, yes, I will be your harem! - Olivia smiled and looked tenderly at the Turk, after which she looked with hatred at Didier and spat in his direction again.
- Stop! This is not possible! - exclaimed de Trabu;on. - I do not agree! I cannot be a eunuch!
- Me know that you are not yet ready to be a eunuch, - answered the Turk. - Me order that yours will be a good eunuch. Me people make you a eunuch. Hasan, do this man eunuch!
“It will be done, lord!” replied the one to whom the richly dressed Turk addressed himself, and stroked with his hand the curved dagger hanging on his belt.

CXII. Swift

The ship "Swift" sailed from the island of Saint-Marguerite. D'Artagnan approached Captain Jourville and said:
- Captain, we are going to the island of Saint-Honorat.
“Yes, sir,” replied Captain Jourville.
After these words, d'Artagnan went down into the hold and addressed his prisoner.
- Your Majesty, as you see, the trap you prepared for me on the island of Saint-Marguerite did not work. I safely departed from that island and, in addition, took from it my friend, whom you apparently recognized.
"You lied to me, d'Artagnan!" cried Louis. "The Baron du Valon is not dead at all!"
" He is alive, Your Majesty, and this is a great fortune not only for him and for me, but also for you," agreed d'Artagnan. "If he had died, then I would have hidden you in the fortress on the island of Saint-Marguerite forever. Fate took care of him and you, leaving the Baron alive. For this reason, I do not feel the hatred towards you that I would have felt if he had died.
“What is the improvement of my fate?” asked the King with disbelief.
"I had to deliver a prisoner to the fortress on the island of Sainte-Marguerite, and I did," replied d'Artagnan. "I had to leave one prisoner in the fortress, and I did so. But I judged that the scoundrel d'Elsorte, who had broken his word as a gentleman, deserved the fate of a prisoner for life more than Your Majesty. Therefore, I put an iron mask on him and handed him over to the commander of the fortress, de Sainte-Mar, under the name of Marchiali. Do you, Your Majesty, object to my decision?"
“I fully approve of it, Captain,” the King nodded. “But what will happen to me?”
"We are going to the small island of Saint-Honorat, Your Majesty," the captain replied. "There is an excellent place on it, called the Abbey of L;rins. I propose that Your Majesty settle here and devote his life to prayer. Of course, I will have to ask the abbot to perform the rite of tonsure for you as a monk."
“This is violence!” Louis objected.
“Yes, Your Majesty!” replied d’Artagnan. “But it is a far lesser outrage than that which you intended to commit against my friends, the Baron du Valon, the Bishop d’Herblay, the Comte de la F;re, the Vicomte de Bragelonne, and me, your faithful servant. And it is a lesser outrage than that which you intended to commit against all the inhabitants of the Ch;teau de Vaux and all the inhabitants of the fortress of Saint-Yves. And it is a lesser outrage than you committed against Monsieur Fouquet. And, I insist, it is a lesser outrage than you committed against your own brother, Philippe de Bourbon, the legitimate son of King Louis XIII of France, who has exactly the same right to the French throne as you, Your Majesty! Am I not right?”
"Aren't you afraid that I'll get off this damned island and take back my throne?" Louis asked, his voice sounding more desperate than angry.
"You won't succeed, Your Majesty," the captain replied. "You will be tonsured a monk, and no one will recognize you as the King."
“Hair can grow back,” said the King in a low voice.
“They won’t grow back if you cut them regularly, Your Majesty,” the captain objected.
“If I run away and don’t cut my hair, I can grow my hair and go to the Louvre as the King’s double and demand that the courtiers recognize me as their rightful King Louis XIV.”
"That might happen with a small probability of success if you were as like yourself as two peas, Your Majesty, but do not flatter yourself with hope, you no longer resemble the King your courtiers know," d'Artagnan objected. "Look in this mirror."
With these words, the captain handed Louis a small mirror.
" What is this?" exclaimed the King, looking in amazement at the two broad black marks on his forehead. "Where did this come from? Can it be washed off?"
“When Madame Olivia de Trabu;on shot at your head, which was wearing an iron mask, this mask took the impact of the bullet and saved your life, Your Majesty,” replied d’Artagnan. “But a small blow was transmitted to your face. You received two shallow but very wide wounds, after which you immediately wiped away the blood with my handkerchief. I did not warn you that I used this handkerchief to tie up a barrel of a certain powder that looked like gunpowder. The Hindus use this powder to make indelible patterns on the skin, which they call tattooing. In order to make such a pattern, it is enough to slightly damage the skin and rub this powder into it. Madame Olivia contributed to the receipt of two wide wounds by Your Majesty, and you yourself, without any violence on my part, wiped away these two wounds with a handkerchief that contained the smallest crumbs of this powder. Those two broad tattoos on your forehead, Your Majesty, make you look little like the King of France. And don't bother to remove them, because that will leave two deep scars in that place, which will also prevent you from passing yourself off as a double of the King who currently sits on the throne of France.
"You scoundrel! You did this on purpose!" cried the King.
- A nobleman's word, it happened by chance! - answered d'Artagnan. - But, you must admit, Fate has shown you a little favor. Instead of sitting in a dungeon with an iron mask on your face, you will live relatively freely in the abbey, you will be closer to God than your brother, and ahead of you, probably, is eternal life, which will be spent in Paradise, if only for the reason that you will not have the opportunity to commit those sins that would close this opportunity before you. Think: eternal bliss in exchange for the intrigues of the court! You would probably prefer the second, but you have no choice, no longer, believe me.
"At least untie my hands," said Louis in a tired voice. "I am tired of fighting. Perhaps it is time for me to turn to the Lord."

CXIII. Blois

Three weeks after the scene we have described, two horsemen rode through Blois early in the morning and gave orders for a falconry. The king wished to hunt in that area. The two horsemen were the king's falconers, whose duty it was to prepare for the royal hunt. After surveying the area, they began to discuss the details of the upcoming hunt. A minute later, they were joined by a third man with gray hair, a pointed gray beard, and a mustache that was beginning to turn gray.
“Monsieur d’Artagnan,” said one of the huntsmen, who was acting as head of the hound hunt, “This place is quite suitable for a royal hunt.”
“Very well,” replied d’Artagnan. “I haven’t been in these parts for a long time.”
"You were on the island of Sainte-Marguerite, I believe, and have just returned?" asked one of the hunters.
“Yes, I visited someone there,” replied d’Artagnan.
“ And how is he doing?” asked his interlocutor.
“Who?” d’Artagnan was surprised.
“Fouquet,” answered the huntsman.
"How should I know?" the captain shrugged. "Mr. Fouquet is not there, but in the Bastille."
“Who were you visiting then?” asked the curious interlocutor.
"Monsieur de Prejean, you are still a newcomer to the court," replied d'Artagnan, "but it is time for you to know that such curiosity does not contribute to good health and longevity. Take up the royal hunt."
At that moment, the royal hunting cortege appeared in the distance.
The musketeers were commanded by Senior Lieutenant d'Arlencourt.
"What news at court, d'Arlencourt?" asked d'Artagnan after the cortege had followed the royal huntsmen.
“The Queen Mother has died,” the senior lieutenant replied.
"God have mercy on her," said the captain and crossed himself. "An entire era has passed with her."
"But His Majesty did not give in to grief for long, as you see," replied d'Arlencourt. "Three days passed, and now the royal hunt is underway."
“Well, that’s in the order of things,” replied the captain. “How is Queen Maria Theresa?”
“As always, he’s jealous,” d’Arlencourt replied.
"Still with Mademoiselle de La Valli;re?" d'Artagnan was surprised.
"Mademoiselle de La Valli;re has retired to a convent, the King has a new passion," replied d'Arlencourt. "The sister of the Count de Guiche, the Princess of Monaco."
D'Artagnan shrugged and looked into the distance, where the King and his entourage were heading.
One of the horsemen separated from the cortege and rode back to meet d'Artagnan. Immediately two other horsemen, apparently acting as bodyguards for this gentleman, also rode after him.
"Who is this that comes to us, d'Arlencourt?" asked d'Artagnan, who was ready to swear that he recognized the rider's posture in the saddle. "It seems to me that it is..."
“The Duke of Alameda, Ambassador of Spain,” replied d’Arlencourt.
"Aramis!" cried d'Artagnan and galloped towards the ambassador.
"I am glad to see you, d'Artagnan!" cried Aramis, when they were so near that they could converse quietly without raising their voices.
"I am happy to meet you here!" replied d'Artagnan. "What brings you here?"
"I represent the interests of Spain at court, didn't you know?" asked Aramis.
"Aramis, I'm happy for you!" d'Artagnan said again. "I'm simply happy!"
"Are you happy, d'Artagnan?" asked Aramis. "I would be happy too, but my happiness is hindered by the eternal sorrow in my heart. I am so guilty before you all!"
- Come on, Aramis! What's with all this self-criticism? Smile! What's bothering you? - asked d'Artagnan.
“Porthos…” said Aramis.
- And what about Porthos? - d'Artagnan was surprised. - Well, Porthos. So what?
"But he died in the cave of Lokmaria!" sighed Aramis. "I will never forgive myself for that."
"Aramis, damn you!" cried d'Artagnan. "I thought you had your, what do you call them, legates, or spies, or whatever you call them, everywhere. Well, drive them all away, they are doing a very bad job, if they haven't told you that Porthos is alive."
"Porthos is alive?!" Aramis exclaimed. "He is alive? Is it true?"
"I won't leave this place!" replied d'Artagnan. "He's alive, damn it, and you'll see him soon."
"It can't be!" whispered Aramis. "Thank you, d'Artagnan, thank you!"
"Thank his strong constitution and great patience," the captain replied. "And just a little bit - one of his comrades who happened to be nearby in time."
"D'Artagnan, I never cease to be amazed by you, but this is the second time that I simply feel like a boy compared to you!" said Aramis.
“And when was the first time?” asked d’Artagnan.
" When I saw the little finger of the King's left hand," Aramis replied. "No scratch! It's Philippe. You've done my idea again without anyone noticing!"
- Except you, Aramis! - answered d'Artagnan with a smile. - And you embodied it even earlier, so that no one noticed it except me and Fouquet!
“Fouquet would never have known about it either if I had not told him about it myself,” replied Aramis.
“Why did you reveal this secret to him?” d’Artagnan was surprised.
“I don’t know myself,” answered Aramis. “Probably out of boasting.”
"You, Aramis, and suddenly, out of boasting, are telling the most important secret of France to a man who in the highest degree should not have been told it?" d'Artagnan was surprised. "And I thought that you never boasted about anything or to anyone!"
"You either spare me, or flatter me, or don't know me at all, my dear d'Artagnan," Aramis replied. "In truth, I am a great boaster, but in the past I have sinned in this way mainly only in conversations with ladies."
"I'll wager that what you boasted of to them was never true, or at least not a truth that should be kept secret!" said d'Artagnan.
"Perhaps you are right, but what of it, even if it is so?" asked Aramis.
"In that case, it's not bragging at all, but simple boasting," d'Artagnan clarified. "Well, bragging in order to impress a lady is not a sin at all, it's what all men have done since the time of Adam, including himself."
- Go higher, d'Artagnan, even the Lord himself was guilty of this, I assure you, as a competent person! - Aramis added with a smile. - All divinely inspired books are nothing more than the boasting of the one who inspired the authors to write them.
“And you and I were still laughing at Porthos, at his gilded belt only in front, at his pigtails and lace collars!” d’Artagnan reminded.
"I must say that even his braids and lace collars looked extremely masculine on his figure!" added Aramis. "My God, what a huge weight you have lifted from my soul, d'Artagnan! Porthos is alive! I can't wait to embrace him, even if it costs me a couple of broken ribs!"
- You will hug me again, God willing! - answered d'Artagnan. - And how are you?
“I pretend to be an ambassador, that is, an envoy of peace to the court of France on behalf of the court of Spain,” answered Aramis.
“And so, are you able to contribute to the preservation of peace between our two states?” asked d’Artagnan.
- My God, d'Artagnan, when did peacemakers ever contribute to peace? God be with you! All embassies serve only two purposes - to spy on your neighbor and to warn your master in time about an approaching war! Or, if you're lucky, to inform your sovereigns in time about the unexpected strengthening of the country in which you're posing as an ambassador.
"Listen, Aramis," d'Artagnan suggested, "hunting has never interested me, and I suppose it has never interested you either. And yet here we are in Blois! We simply must visit Athos."
"Athos in Blois?" Aramis was surprised again.
- And now he has new eccentricities! - answered d'Artagnan with a smile. - Do you know that we can look at his grave, in which, God willing, he will not lie for a long time?
“Athos’s grave?” Aramis was even more surprised.
- Of course! - confirmed the captain. - Thanks to the efforts of your agents, Athos and Raoul were saved, but the news of their death was so reliable that I believed it myself at first. The documents about their death were drawn up by the commandant of the fortress of Candia. It was also said there that the body of the count was taken by unknown people, and the body of Raoul was buried in a trench occupied by the Turks. Poor Grimaud was so upset! And he ordered two coffins to be placed in the family crypt, in which he placed some personal belongings of the count and the viscount. When Athos arrived in Blois, Grimaud's joy knew no bounds. Having learned of the misunderstanding, Athos decided to leave everything as it was.
“For what purpose?” asked Aramis.
“You know Athos,” d’Artagnan shrugged. “‘God does nothing in vain,’ he said. ‘Perhaps it would be better for us to be in these coffins. In any case, we won’t keep you waiting long.’ However, such whimsicalities do not frighten me. In all other respects, Athos has remained the same Athos as we know him.
"Where did you say this crypt is located?" asked Aramis.
"We will see him on the road," replied d'Artagnan. "Let Bazin warn the retinue of your absence. D'Arlencourt! Take command! I am going to the Ch;teau de Blois to visit an old friend!"

However, d'Artagnan and Aramis did not find the Count in his castle. Grimaud, who met them, reported that the Count had received some letter, after which he very quickly got ready and left, without telling either the purpose of his journey or the place.

CXIV. Diplomacy and War

Two days later, Colbert visited the residence of the Duke d'Alameda, where, to his displeasure, he found d'Artagnan.
“Good day, Monsieur Colbert!” said d’Artagnan in such a tone that one might have thought he was glad to greet an old friend.
This tone deceived neither Colbert nor Aramis.
“I am glad to see you here,” Colbert replied in the same tone and with the same result.
“You apparently have a conversation with the Duke, so I dare not disturb you,” said d’Artagnan, without taking a single step towards the exit.
"Oh, what are you saying, what are you saying!" exclaimed Colbert. "Can the Minister of France have a confidential conversation with a foreign ambassador that the captain of the king's musketeers could not hear?" he continued, feeling the falseness of his tone and his phrase.
“I have no secrets from Monsieur d’Artagnan, I never have and never will,” Aramis said without batting an eyelid in such a tone that even d’Artagnan almost believed him.
“Monsieur le Duc,” said Colbert to Aramis, “I do not know the reasons for your conflict with the King, and I do not know the reasons for the establishment of complete agreement between you.
“That is so, Monsieur Colbert,” smiled Aramis. “Of course, I cannot inform you in this regard without His Majesty’s consent, even if I wanted to, but I do not want to. Nor do I think that you need to know this in order to more successfully fulfill your functions. Besides, I do not suppose that you have the right to ask me questions on this subject. So, you have spoken of this simply in order to start from this situation, and, having acknowledged it, to talk about how you intend to build further relations with me, or, to be more precise, you are interested in how I intend to build my relations with you. I answer: as if nothing of what you are talking about had taken place. Are you satisfied with this answer to the question you did not ask?”
“I have always believed, Duke, that diplomacy consists in saying nothing very skillfully, but you have destroyed my opinion, since you have very skillfully told me a great deal,” replied Colbert.
“All the better, esteemed minister, I’m listening to you,” Aramis nodded coldly.
“I believe, Monsieur le Duke, that now that we have brought complete clarity to the relations between us, the time has come to bring complete clarity to the relations between our countries as well,” Colbert continued. “Tell me, can France count on Spain’s neutrality in resolving some of our questions with Holland?”
- Mr. Minister, - answered Aramis, - if the solution to some questions with Holland is a war with that state, then Spain, I believe, will not side with Holland. But Holland is a maritime power! Is France ready for war at sea? How many victories has it won in naval battles? Some victories of the Duke de Beaufort with Turkey would be a good rebuttal to my doubts, but the Duke, alas, disappeared without a trace during a sortie in one of the battles, I think with the Turks. Unfortunately, I do not remember the exact name of this place.
"So you think that a war with Holland can take place, that it will be a naval war, and that France is incapable of waging a naval war? Three such pithy answers to my question? Thank you!" said Colbert. "And what do you think of this, Monsieur d'Artagnan?"
"I think that the outcome of naval battles is decided, of course, at sea, but the outcome of a war consisting mainly of naval battles is decided on land," the captain replied. "Therefore, in order to wage this naval war, France will need a strong land army."
“What did you say?” Colbert was surprised, deciding that he had misheard. “Why land?”
Aramis only raised his eyebrows and smiled at these words.
"Because if England does not help us, and she will not help us, we will be beaten at sea," explained d'Artagnan. "Therefore, the Dutch will not miss the opportunity to seize our ports, and those that the Dutch do not seize, the English will seize. If France loses her ports, she will lose the entire kingdom, into which the Spaniards will pour. In addition, T;rkiye will not miss the opportunity to take revenge from the south.
"Why don't you admit that Spain will remain strictly neutral?" Aramis asked.
"Spain will remain neutral as long as France is stronger than its enemy or at least equal in strength," d'Artagnan replied. "No country can remain neutral when it sees easy prey on its borders. I would sooner believe that a pack of hyenas would pay no attention to the carcass of an antelope killed by a cheetah. It is much easier for hyenas to drive a cheetah away from an antelope than to bring it down themselves. The analogy is complete."
Colbert, suppressing his admiration, continued:
- And who told you, Monsieur d'Artagnan, that France does not have a strong fleet?
“Oh, I didn’t say that,” laughed the captain. “But I had very little experience of naval warfare, and I was convinced that the commander-in-chief can do nothing with his flotilla when the captains of the other ships don’t know what the admiral’s orders are. Some kind of remote communication method must be devised. Maybe some kind of conventional flags or something like that. But that’s not the main problem! It’s especially difficult to manage a fleet when the most junior naval officer has letters in his pocket giving him greater powers than those given to the commander-in-chief.”
Colbert pretended not to notice the captain's jab and therefore ignored the brilliant idea of using flags to communicate between ships, which d'Artagnan himself immediately forgot.
"Through my efforts, our fleet has been enriched by thirty-five warships in the last six months," Colbert said proudly. "These are battleships, fast and equipped with cannons according to regulations."
"Twenty-one of these thirty-five ships were taken from Fouquet, who had built them for his piratical activities," thought Aramis. "One ship was so badly plundered and mutilated that it would have cost almost as much to restore it as if it had been simply rebuilt."
- Thirty-five ships? - d'Artagnan was surprised. - I like this type of your activity, Monsieur Colbert.
"The King currently has about two thousand guns," bowed the flattered Colbert. "Thirty-five ships are three strong squadrons, but for a war with Holland we need at least five squadrons. The King will have them by the end of the year."
“Where did you get so many cannons?” asked d’Artagnan.
“I built a factory in Toulon,” Colbert replied.
"You built an arms factory?" Aramis asked.
"The Minister does not build the factory himself, Monsieur le Duc," replied Colbert. "I found Monsieur d'Infreville, and Monsieur d'Infreville built the factory. He knows how to select the best craftsmen and make them work. He casts cannons in Toulon and cuts ship timber in Burgundy. And Monsieur Destouches builds ships and launches them.
"You have collected considerable resources, Monsieur Colbert!" d'Artagnan admired.
"Now it's time to get involved in politics," Colbert replied. "I want Spain to be neutral."
“If England will help France, I can perhaps guarantee the neutrality of Spain,” replied Aramis.
"If you could guarantee Spain's neutrality, I could guarantee that England would help France," Colbert replied. "By the way, the King was saying the other day that he would be extremely pleased to see you wearing the ribbon of the Order of St. Michael."
Aramis bowed.
"Monsieur d'Artagnan," Colbert continued, "what do you think of the expedition to Holland? Can you swim?"
"Like an eel," replied d'Artagnan. "Especially on one of the fifty ships of the line."
"The ships will take you and your musketeers to the coast of Holland," Colbert agreed. "But then you will have to go through marshy terrain, where reliable crossings are not always possible. Even the best swimmers often drown in such places."
"My profession is to die for the King," the captain replied. "But to die in battle, not in the swamp. So I'll just have to swim out."
“So,” Colbert began, “you have nothing against Holland?”
“Personally, I have nothing against it, but if the King has something against this country, it is my duty to explain to them his rightness with the help of the arguments with which His Majesty has supplied me,” answered d’Artagnan and patted his sword with his palm.
“The King will provide you with everything you need, I promise you this as Minister of Finance,” said Colbert.
“Therefore, I will not only go myself, but I will also lead my musketeers into battle,” replied d’Artagnan.
“The King’s guards will also follow your lead,” replied Colbert.
“They must be informed that they will be subordinate to me,” d’Artagnan replied with an ironic smile, “and I must be sure that they will not have orders on the basis of which my authority can be challenged or annulled.”
“Your doubts will disappear of their own accord,” replied Colbert, “when you learn that a marshal’s baton is already being made for you.”
"May you go to hell with your marshal's baton!" thought d'Artagnan. "Every time it's mentioned, some big trouble awaits me! The damned minister is lying! Louis showed me this baton back when he sent me to get proof of my friends' deaths."
"Well, at least it'll be a help in crossing the swamps," he said, trying to look interested in the proposal. "After all, wood doesn't sink in water, so I'll have something to grab onto if the swamp starts to pull me down into the abyss."
“Undoubtedly,” Colbert agreed. “I don’t know of a single case where a Marshal of France drowned.”
“Well, sir,” replied d’Artagnan, “you can tell the King that the first battle under my command will end in victory or my death.”
“In that case,” said Colbert, “I will order that today they begin to embroider the golden lilies that will adorn your marshal’s baton.”
Colbert was looking at Aramis's face at that moment, not d'Artagnan's, otherwise he would have seen how much the captain despised this idea.

CXV. Heir

The young man entered the office of the all-powerful minister, who had learned the day before that the young man was seeking an audience and had set a time for the reception.
- Hello, dear Auguste! - Colbert greeted him joyfully. - When will I have the pleasure of seeing your esteemed mother and your dear father?
“My parents have disappeared somewhere, Mr. Minister,” answered Auguste.
- It can't be! - Colbert exclaimed with feigned surprise. - Wait a minute! I remember there was some report of a bandit attack on the guards. Wait a minute! - Colbert rang the bell.
He said to the secretary who looked in the door:
— I need the file on the attack at the southern gates of Paris.
A minute later the secretary brought a folder containing testimony written in different handwritings that Colbert himself had invented two hours earlier.
- That's it! - he exclaimed. - The name is misspelled here. It says that the case concerns the du Trois- Bessons, whereas in fact it probably concerns your parents, Didier de Trabusson and Olivia de Trabusson! Of course! How could I not have guessed!
“What happened to my parents?” Auguste de Trabuson asked anxiously.
"If there is no mistake here, and if it is really your parents we are talking about, then I am afraid I have bad news for you, young man!" Colbert said in a worried and sympathetic tone. "These people were seized at the southern gate of Paris by order of Captain d'Artagnan and taken away in his carriage to an unknown destination.
“Order him to bring back my parents!” Auguste pleaded.
- Ta-ta -ta, young man, do not rush, I am not omnipotent! - Colbert protested feigningly. - Do you know that the captain of the king's musketeers is almost equal to a marshal of France. If the King wants to arrest me, then Monsieur d'Artagnan is the very man who will carry out this order. I cannot quarrel with such a man without sufficient grounds, and, besides, this is the testimony of witnesses whom we could not find. In other words, I cannot attach much importance to these documents, it is as if they did not exist. I should have to throw them away, since this testimony is not confirmed by anyone. I will do so, but first, out of respect for your esteemed parents, I will let you read them, only promise me that you will never tell anyone what you have read here, and especially that you read it here and in my house.
With these words, Colbert handed Auguste a folder full of slanderous fabrications against d'Artagnan, composed by himself and written down under his dictation by several of his scribes.
As he read, Auguste became increasingly indignant, his fists clenched tighter and his face grew paler.
Having finished reading, he returned the folder and exclaimed:
- I'll kill him!
"By no means, young man!" replied Colbert. "If you take such a step, you yourself will be executed. Besides, you will not be able to cope with him, remember that he is always well armed and handles his weapons better than anyone in France."
“I will attack him at night, when he is not expecting it,” Auguste said stubbornly.
“That’s better, but it’s still not the same,” Colbert continued to object. “In order to kill a man, it’s not at all necessary to kill him personally, with your own hands. It’s much more reliable to gather information against him that will kill him with the hands of the king’s executioner. Besides, you’d like to get your parents back, wouldn’t you? They’ve been arrested, but they’re probably still alive. And by killing him, you won’t learn anything about them. No, young man, you need Captain d’Artagnan in your hands, so that you can dictate terms to him. Then you’ll be able to get your parents back and take revenge on him as you see fit.”
“I will do everything you say, Mr. Minister,” replied Auguste de Trabuson.
“That’s already very good,” Colbert nodded. “But first we’ll get rid of the documents that are completely useless and even harmful to us, and which you, I hope, have read carefully enough, so carefully that you never forget what’s written in them. I repeat, this is just information, but I have no legally significant evidence of their authenticity, so I’m simply obliged to destroy them. It’s as if they never existed. Although I know that they are authentic.”
With these words, Colbert threw the folder into the blazing fireplace.
“By the way, Captain d’Artagnan had one accomplice, whose name I cannot tell you yet,” Colbert continued. “But we will deal with him later, too.”
Thus, Colbert received another spy, having at his disposal several dozen similar people, each of whom was attracted to his side not only by money, but also by similar methods, which allowed Colbert to be quite confident in their obedience.

An hour later, the secretary reported to Colbert that Monsieur d'Epernon, who had been invited to him, had arrived.
- Come in, my dear Duke! - exclaimed Colbert. - I am glad to see the scion of such a brilliant family! I have heard of the exploits of your venerable and noble father, Duke Jean Louis de Nogaret de La Valette d'Epernon! The scion of such a remarkable family! I believe that you should rightfully occupy the post of captain of the king's musketeers! And where do we see you? Lieutenant of the Guards! That is not enough, allow me to say with all responsibility!
“I have never shown zeal for a military career,” replied the Duke, the eldest son of his illustrious father, whose titles the Minister had taken the trouble to list. “And military Fortune is not for me.”
"There are moments when Fortune herself rushes towards the one who is worthy of her possession," Colbert said enthusiastically. "France needs heroes like you, Duke! And France will not hesitate to appreciate her hero at his true worth! The post of captain of the king's musketeers will be yours!"
"Where will you put Monsieur d'Artagnan?" asked d'Epernon with distrust.
"He thinks that he will be raised to the rank of Marshal of France, but in reality he will be humiliated to the Bastille, I tell you this, Colbert!" the minister replied enthusiastically.
“That sounds good,” agreed d’Epernon, “when the vacancy you speak of becomes available, I am at your service.”
"Wait, my dear Duke!" replied Colbert. "Vacancies do not become vacant of themselves, unless the person occupying them is hopelessly old or terminally ill."
"So you're making me promises that are postponed indefinitely," d'Epernon chuckled. "That doesn't inspire me."
"You can speed up this period without any danger, my dear Duke, if you only fulfill one small commission of mine," said Colbert. " I will give you four guards, you will go to the island of Saint-Marguerite with my orders, and on the basis of this order you will bring me the prisoner who is kept in the fortress. This simple commission will open the way for you to the vacancy we are talking about, since I am almost certain that this prisoner will tell us something that will allow us to remove Captain d'Artagnan, who is in the way of me and you, to the Bastille.
"And where is this letter?" d'Epernon asked incredulously.
“Here it is, read it,” answered Colbert and placed the paper in front of the Duke.
In this document the Duke read the following:

"Order of the head of the cabinet of ministers, Minister of Finance Mr. J.-B. Colbert

The commander of the fortress of the island of Saint-Marguerite, Mr. Benin d'Auvergne de Saint-Mar, is to hand over to Mr. d'Epernon the prisoner Marchiali, whom Mr. d'Epernon is to deliver to the minister, Mr. J.-B. de Colbert, maintaining all precautions with regard to this prisoner.

Signed: J.-B. Colbert."

The order was sealed by the minister.

“What other precautions?” asked the Duke.
“There’s a mask on his face and a gag in his mouth,” Colbert smiled.
“Then don’t talk to him or listen to him,” the Duke nodded.
“Exactly so,” Colbert agreed happily.
“ What if this prisoner Marchiali doesn’t tell us anything in Paris?” d’Epernon wondered.
"He shouldn't tell you anything, moreover, I don't just ask, I ask very insistently, I order you to keep silent with him and not to ask him any questions on the way to Paris. This is precisely the most difficult part of my assignment, and in this part I can only trust you," Colbert continued. "I know you as a person who is not curious.
"Absolutely not curious!" the Duke agreed. "If he can't tell me straight out what I must do to become captain of the Musketeers, we have nothing to talk about."
“That’s the whole point, he can’t tell you anything like that directly,” Colbert agreed. “I’ll tell you more. There’s a lot that tells me that this man is out of his mind, so you shouldn’t talk to him, and you shouldn’t even let him say anything. And if he does say something, you shouldn’t take it seriously. I’ll talk to him myself, I and only I. I have my own methods. I can tell the truth from the nonsense he can spout when talking to anyone. And since you’ll get him wearing a mask, let him never take it off for a moment.”
"All this seems somehow dubious, sir minister," d'Epernon doubted. "Besides, I don't want to be captain of the king's musketeers so much as to get involved in some kind of intrigue."
"I'm not involving you in any intrigues, you'll just go and pick up whoever I give you and bring him to me," Colbert continued his persuasion. "You won't even have to bear any expenses. This will cover all your travel expenses."
With these words, Colbert took out of his desk drawer a purse of money, which contained not only gold coins, but silver ones too, as a result of which it seemed somewhat more solvent than it actually was.
D'Epernon, who did not need money, but also did not intend to spend his own funds to please some ministers, assessed this act of Colbert quite favorably.
"Well, I have nothing to lose after all," he replied. "A trip to the south coast at your expense will at least amuse me."
“Take your four guardsmen, leave a deputy in your place, and leave tomorrow morning,” said Colbert, summing up.
“I will return with your Marchiali,” replied d’Epernon, put on his hat and went out.


CXVI. D'Artagnan

A week before this conversation, d'Artagnan came to the major of the royal guards, Count de Chuzeau. He decided to help Fran;ois arrange his career, but first the young man had to achieve recognition from his comrades and superiors by his own efforts, so he decided not to take him into the musketeers and not to provide protection, hiding the fact of kinship, which he himself no longer doubted at all.
"Count, I present to you my fellow countryman Fran;ois de Perrin," said d'Artagnan. "I have already tested him in action and recommend him to you with a pure heart."
"Do you recommend him in writing?" asked the Count de Chuzot with a smile. "I have heard of a story where a certain fellow countryman of yours arrived with a letter of recommendation, which was stolen from him on the way to Paris."
"That is precisely why I do not rely on written recommendations and have come myself to confirm my recommendation specifically for this brave young man," the captain replied. "He is ready to go through all the hardships of military service, and I will be glad if you do not make a favorite out of him, but give him the opportunity to prove his worth in practice."
"Mr. Captain," Fran;ois intervened, "I thank you for such a recommendation, it is exactly what I was counting on, and if you utter another word by way of recommendation, it will already be superfluous."
"I like this young man!" replied de Chuzeau. "With your recommendation, captain, I would enlist anyone in the company of guards, but the modesty with which you formulated it says much more about you and your prot;g; than a five-page letter of recommendation. Young man, consider yourself enrolled!"
D'Artagnan thanked the Count, bowed and said goodbye to both.

Returning home in the evening, d'Artagnan found a letter in which the Duchess de Chevreuse invited him to talk as soon as possible. The captain considered that the hour was not yet so late that such a visit could be considered improper, so he put on his hat again and went to the Louvre, to the wing in which the Duchess's apartments were located.
As soon as the Duchess was informed of the captain's arrival, she demanded that he come to her immediately.
- Ah, my dear Count! - said the Duchess, holding out her hand to the Captain to kiss. - I am very glad that you have responded to my invitation so quickly! I have one important thing to tell you, and I hope you will understand me.
“I am listening to you, Duchess,” replied d’Artagnan.
“You will understand why I am addressing you,” the Duchess continued. “We have known each other for a long time, in absentia, and have met several times at the King’s reception, but we have never spoken like this, face to face.”
"The time has not been lost," the captain smiled. "Duchess, you are still one of the most brilliant ladies at court."
- Oh, captain, leave it alone! - the Duchess blushed. - You are not only a master of the sword, I know that, but you can't fool me. I have heard so many compliments in my life that I have learned to distinguish those that come from the heart from those that are a tribute to simple male politeness.
“Duchess, you are too cruel to yourself and to me,” objected d’Artagnan.
"To the point, Count," said the Duchess. "The matter that troubles me brooks no delay. I am very anxious about the Count de la F;re."
“What’s wrong with the Count?” the captain asked quickly.
“You see, this man is not indifferent to me due to certain circumstances,” the duchess tried to explain her concern.
"What about the Count, Duchess? What makes you worry about him?" the captain continued more insistently.
"He received a letter that prompted him to set out on a dangerous journey. I am afraid it is a trap," said the Duchess. "Perhaps it is my idle suspiciousness, but I am afraid."
“Duchess, I beg you, tell me everything in order,” the captain interrupted her.
“He received a letter that the Duke de Beaufort was alive, that he had been captured by the Turks, and that a ransom was required for his rescue,” replied the Duchess.
“How do you know this, and why do you consider this letter a trap?” asked d’Artagnan.
"You forget who my cousin is, Monsieur le Comte," replied the Duchess. "The Duke of Rochefort informed me that the Comte de la F;re set out on this dangerous journey almost alone. It is true that Rochefort told me that the Baron du Valon went with him, but I think he has made a mistake, for the Baron, as everyone knows, perished in the cave of Locmaria on the island of Belle-Ile."
“You are well aware, Duchess, that the Baron is indeed dead, but your cousin is not mad,” replied d’Artagnan. “Go on then!”
“The Count told my cousin that he could not confide these circumstances to anyone at court, since they had both learned that some plot had been hatched against the Duke,” the Duchess continued. “By the way, my cousin learned this from me. So, Minister Colbert was planning to get rid of Beaufort, so asking the court for help to save the Duke was pointless and even dangerous. So the Count went there on his own. Rochefort also wanted to join them, but the Count agreed to take him as an escort only as far as the Turkish border. This means that the letter he received contained conditions according to which the Count could not come to the rescue of Beaufort accompanied by a large number of people. The writer of this letter demanded that the Count come alone, or accompanied by a servant, or with only one of his friends. This condition worries me. I thought that this could be a trap. Rochefort thought the same thing, and he shared his suspicions with the Count. Do you know what the Count de La Fere answered him?
“I think the Count said that he was not afraid of traps, that he was ready to trust in fate and his sword, and also that when duty required him to come to the rescue of the grandson of Henry IV, nothing would make him refuse to fulfill this duty,” replied d’Artagnan.
- Almost word for word, and he also said these words: “For the sake of the grandson of the great Henry IV, who is in captivity and needs my help, I will do even what I would not do for the grandson of Henry IV, who sits on the throne.”
"So he went there accompanied by only one person, as you say, and he did not inform me, nor his son, nor his faithful Grimaud, of the purpose and place of this journey, since he did not want anyone to help him or look for him," concluded d'Artagnan. "This shows that he very seriously suspected a trap. And he did not want anyone else to risk it with him.
“I think so too, Count,” the Duchess agreed.
“What else did your cousin tell you, Duchess?” asked the captain.
“He said that the meeting place was the very fortress where the Duke de Beaufort disappeared,” answered the Duchess.
- Thank you, Duchess! I must go! - answered d'Artagnan.
"It is I who thank you, Captain! Don't waste time!" replied the Duchess, and again extended her hand to him to kiss.

CXVII. Confession of Louis

Louis, who remained in the monastery, decided to confess to the abbot.
"Holy Father, I wish to repent of my sins," said Louis. "I was planning murder."
“My son,” the abbot replied, “Evil intentions are a great sin, but they are also a temptation. If you have given up your intentions, then you have resisted the temptation. Therefore, repent, and I will forgive this sin.”
"I have not abandoned these plans, holy father," Louis replied. "Fate prevented me from carrying out my plans. Perhaps my plan was poorly thought out, or my enemies were more cunning than I, but I have not abandoned my plan."
“The Lord has restrained you, my son,” the abbot answered tenderly. “The Lord loves you. Say the Lord’s Prayer fifty times, and I will forgive you your sin.”
"Holy Father, that's not all," Louis continued. "By my order, people went to their deaths and died, and killed other people.
“My son, in worldly life you were the one who could give orders,” the abbot replied. “But above us all stands the King, and above the King stands the Lord. If the King gives orders, then this matter is only on his conscience, but we, his subjects, must fulfill these orders with all zeal as the will of the Lord. I forgive you this sin, too.”
"Holy Father, but I raised my hand against my own brother!" cried Louis. "And I know of no reason why God could forgive me this sin. I took away his freedom, I took away everything he could count on. What should have belonged to both of us, I took for myself alone."
"I don't see anything on you except the clothes you have on. You don't have any property. So, what you took, you have already given to the church or to the poor, if you came to the monastery," the abbot answered.
“I have nothing because my brother took back both his share and mine, and now I am left a beggar, without anything, not even freedom,” answered Louis.
"If the Lord punished you for your sin through the hands of your offended brother, it means that he assigned you punishment for it during your lifetime. You have suffered punishment, I forgive you this sin," the abbot replied.
“If the Lord has forgiven me,” Louis objected, “then why did he reward me with the mark of Cain?”
With these words, Louis threw back the hair on his forehead and showed his forehead to the abbot.
"What seal are you talking about, my son?" asked the abbot. "These two barely noticeable stripes on the forehead?"
- Barely noticeable? - exclaimed Louis. - Barely noticeable, you say? After all, I saw two wide black stripes across my entire forehead!
"It was probably a superficial skin lesion, my son," the abbot replied. "If the Lord had marked your forehead with the mark of Cain, you would not have been able to remove it by any means. This mark is very indistinct, almost completely erased.
- Almost completely erased? - exclaimed Louis. - Barely noticeable? He deceived me! The vile d'Artagnan! He deceived me like a boy! Holy Father, I need a mirror!
“We do not keep mirrors in the monastery, my son,” the abbot replied. “I absolve you of your sins. Go, pray, and cleanse your heart before the Lord.”
“Thank you, holy father, thank you!” Louis replied and left the cell.
“A mirror, I need a mirror!” he thought. “I must see for myself that these are not empty words! Perhaps the priest has simply decided to deceive me, knowing that there are no mirrors here. Yes, of course, I must not believe him. I absolutely need a mirror!”
That same evening Louis turned to the keeper of the gifts.
“Tell me, my dear fellow, are there any objects among the gifts kept under your watchful care that have mirror surfaces?” he asked casually.
“There are probably no mirrors in our monastery,” the keeper replied. “We must not admire ourselves, but must appear before the eyes of the Lord as He created us.”
“There is a splinter that I would like to remove, but it is in such a place that I cannot see it,” said Louis.
“I can help you with that,” the keeper replied.
- No, no, not at all! - Louis objected. - I'd rather suffer for the rest of my life!
"I understand," said the keeper. "There is one object whose surface is almost mirror-like. It is the bottom of the silver and gold-trimmed reliquary that contains the relics of Saint Ambrose. But it is a great sacrilege to use the reliquary for such worldly purposes."
"If I wish to give this ring to the monastery," said Louis, taking the diamond ring from his left hand, "but I would also very much like to personally inspect the depository of gifts in order to choose a suitable place for its safekeeping, surely you could grant me such an opportunity? However, I will not speak of my gift, abbot, for it may very well be that this ring is not valuable enough to be kept in the depository, although it contains a diamond of the purest water. In that case, I will ask you to keep this ring with you and dispose of it as you see fit.
“Be careful with this reliquary,” replied the keeper, taking the ring from Louis’s hands and taking the key to the vault from his pocket. “Although I cannot swear that it really contains the relics of Saint Ambrose, they say that these relics have the greatest effect on male potency, even if you touch the reliquary with your hand. If the splinter that troubles you is closer to the concentration of this power, I fear that you will find it difficult to observe a regime of abstinence later, although nothing other than abstinence can take place within the walls of this monastery. However, I can give one piece of advice on this subject, how to tame the flesh…”
“Thank you, that’s unnecessary,” replied Louis, hastily taking the key. “I’ll return it in half an hour, but now I ask you to leave me.”
After these words, he headed for the doors of the vault. Having found the casket he needed, he quickly grabbed it, turned it over and looked at the polished bottom. The abbot had not deceived him: Louis saw his face with two barely noticeable dark stripes on his forehead. There was no doubt that in two or three weeks there would be no trace of these stripes.
“Nothing is lost yet,” thought Louis. “I can still get everything back! First, I must leave this monastery and this island. I must grow my hair, but it doesn’t matter, because there are plenty of wigs in the palace! I must take care of my face, my voice! And I need friends!”
Louis was right, he needed friends. Rarely does a monarch have friends, and none of them understands how necessary they are, and how rare they are. Captain d'Artagnan, who might have been one of them, had been grossly deceived, rejected. Louis even wanted to destroy him. Could this man, after all that had passed between them, become a friend again? Of course not! Louis's behavior up to now had been such that he could only hope to find friends among people who did not know him at all. Even little La Valli;re would hardly have fallen in love with him as he was now, an unkempt novice in a monastery, whom no one cared about.
"I have a goal, and I have time," Louis decided. "I must think it over, consider all possible ways of escape, use every opportunity. And if it appears, I must not miss it!"

CXVIII. De Saint-Mars

According to Colbert's instructions, the Duke of Epernon took four guardsmen from the Comte de Chuzeau and headed for the island of Sainte-Marguerite. Among these four chosen was Fran;ois, but not by chance, since, when making his choice, the Duke asked which of them was more familiar with the road to Cannes. Naturally, Fran;ois answered that he had recently been there, so he was chosen among the escort.
The trip passed without any particular adventures, since this time no spies followed the travelers.
Upon arrival in Cannes, d'Epernon chartered a small boat and sailed directly to the island of Sainte-Marguerite.
Unlike the cautious d'Artagnan, the Duke sailed to the island by the shortest route in order to land on the northern shore, in close proximity to the Royal Fort fortress.
As soon as the ship had come so close that there was no doubt about the purpose of its further journey, smoke rose above the fortress wall, after which the sound of a blank cannon shot reached the sailors.
D'Epernon was extremely surprised by such an inhospitable reception from his compatriots.
"Lower the boat into the water! And give me a white flag," he ordered.
As soon as the boat with the guards acting as oarsmen and d'Epernon standing in its center with a white flag had reached the shore, the commandant of the fortress de Saint-Mars came out to meet the arrivals, accompanied by two guards.
“What do you want?” he asked.
“I am the Duke d’Epernon,” replied the Duke, “I have an order signed by Minister Colbert to hand over to me the prisoner of the fortress of Marchiali.”
“Show me the order,” replied Saint-Mars, “but do not go ashore.”
D'Epernon shrugged his shoulders and handed de Saint-Mars a paper.
"That's right," replied Saint-Mars, having read the order and handed it back to d'Epernon. "Return to Paris and report to Colbert that this order is null and void. According to the King's order, the said prisoner can only be handed over by order signed personally by His Majesty and bearing his seal."
"You disobey the minister's orders?" d'Epernon was surprised, realizing that his mission had failed, but deciding to make one more attempt. "Do you know that he has the power to deprive you of your allowance and exile you anywhere, including turning you from a commandant into a prisoner of this very fortress?"
“Very possible, Monsieur le Duc,” replied Saint-Mars. “But I know my service, and, having in my hands a document which states that the fate of this prisoner can be decided only by His Majesty, I cannot obey anyone else. The Monsieur le Duc will not allow such injustice to be done to me simply because I carry out the King’s orders with the utmost precision. In case it should occur to you to attempt to take the prisoner by force, I warn you that my garrison is sufficient to repel a much larger force; my gunners have more than just blank charges. With two shots they will sink both your boat and the vessel on which you arrived. I ask you not to be offended and to understand me correctly, Monsieur le Duc, but in the event of disobedience to the King’s orders, we will consider your ship a legitimate target. Convey to the Monsieur le Duc my humblest regards, full of respect.”
With these words, de Saint-Mars turned around and went into the fortress.
D'Epernon was furious. But he had no choice but to give the order to return to Paris. It infuriated him that he was returning empty-handed, and he was only looking for an opportunity to vent his anger on anyone. Such a mood in such a significant person did not bode well for a random traveler. The first on whose head the Duke called down thunder and lightning was, of course, de Cinq-Mars. The second on this list of hated persons was Captain d'Artagnan, since Colbert's unfulfilled assignment left the captain of the Musketeers in his former position, which most naturally closed for d'Epernon the prospect that Colbert had drawn for him.
Meanwhile, Saint-Mars thought it best to describe the events of that day in a letter addressed personally to the King and send it by courier, for which he sent one of his servants to the shore.

Louis knelt in his cell and asked God to send him a sign that he had friends he could rely on. If he had any, he could count not only on a successful escape, but also on their help in regaining the throne.
Suddenly, from the direction of the island of Saint-Marguerite, the sound of a cannon shot was heard. Louis shuddered.
“It’s a sign,” he said in a whisper, turning to the image of the Savior. “I thank you, Lord, for this sign. I understand. You will support me. Now I’m not afraid of anything, I’ve made up my mind.”
After this, Louis crossed himself three times and went to the keeper.
“I am terribly ill,” he said. “Have a doctor called to see me.”
“There is no doctor here,” the keeper replied.
“What do you do when a novice needs a doctor’s help?” asked Louis.
“We pray,” the keeper answered.
- But my illness is very serious! I am torn apart by the most severe pains! I can hardly cope with them! - exclaimed Louis.
“Well, in exceptional cases the abbot allows the novices to go ashore,” the keeper replied. “The next time a ship comes with food for us, you will be able to leave the island on it, if the abbot gives his permission.”
“Talk to him about it!” Louis pleaded, twisting a ring with a magnificent sapphire around his finger.
“I’ll try to convince him,” said the keeper, without taking his eyes off the ring.

CXIX. Philip

Some time later, Philippe casually signed the documents prepared by Colbert. He did it so quickly that it might have seemed to an outsider that he was not carefully reading the documents he was signing, but that would have been a mistake. During the long years spent in captivity, where books were his only joy and his only entertainment, Philippe had learned to read documents so quickly, barely glancing at them, that it took him three or four seconds to understand the contents of one handwritten sheet of paper.
Not knowing about this skill of Philippe, Colbert decided to put the order for the prisoner's extradition among the papers. At the same time, Colbert tried to distract the King with conversation.
“Your Majesty, the construction of ships is in full swing,” he said.
“Wonderful, Mr. Colbert, and what about the guns?” Philippe replied, signing another document.
“The guns are also cast in full accordance with the order,” Colbert replied.
“You are doing a great job of strengthening my fleet,” Philip praised the minister. “And what is this order?”
Colbert bit his tongue. His hopes that the King would sign the order for the prisoner's surrender without reading it were dashed.
“I need to speak with the arrested Fouquet, Your Majesty,” replied Colbert. “I ask you to sign an order for such a right.”
"But it says here that the bearer of this order may, at his own discretion, remove the prisoner from the place where he is staying, isn't it?" Philip asked. "What is this postscript for?"
“The fact is, Your Majesty, that Monsieur Fouquet is aware of certain payments made previously, for which, I suppose, the orders have not been fulfilled. The papers have not survived, but the transaction was concluded. Having clarified this information, we could demand either the return of the money or the execution of the deliveries. I do not expect Monsieur Fouquet to be so kind as to give me all the necessary information about the suppliers, since he probably does not realize that the punishment Your Majesty has imposed on him does not relieve him of responsibility for the transactions he concluded and paid for while in his post as Superintendent of Finances,” replied Colbert. “In order for him to cooperate more favorably and provide all the information, I will need to give him convincing motives for such actions. Having in hand a document by which I can release him, I will be able to show him this paper, which will be a very effective means of forcing him to tell me everything I need to know.
“But you are not going to release him, Mr. Colbert?” asked Philippe.
“By no means, Your Majesty!” replied Colbert, but, catching himself, he added, “Except in the case where Your Majesty should be pleased to command it.”
“So you are going to deceive him, Mr. Colbert,” Philippe nodded dryly.
"For the good of France, Your Majesty!" exclaimed Colbert. "For the good of France and the King, I am ready to deceive my own mother!"
"You may get away with it, but only once, Mr. Minister," Philippe noted. "Next time you won't be able to find out anything from Fouquet."
“Once is enough, Your Majesty,” replied Colbert.
“Okay, okay, Mr. Colbert,” Philippe replied and pretended to be about to sign the document.
Colbert's heart fluttered with joy, but Philippe only put a small period.
“Mr. Minister, you, always so attentive, in this case have drawn up this document extremely carelessly,” said Philip with a sigh.
- Really? Excuse me, Your Majesty, where do you see negligence? - Colbert answered with feigned surprise.
"It says here that the bearer of this document may take the prisoner from the fortress, and the commandant is ordered to provide the bearer of the document with all necessary assistance," Philip replied. "But you are talking about specific people, a specific prisoner, a specific fortress and a specific commandant. Let me correct that."
With these words, Philip added a few words to the document that was extended to him for signature.
- Now everything is as it should be, - said Philippe. - I will read it myself, and you make sure there are no mistakes. It is written here: “Order of the King. The bearer of this document, Mr. Colbert, is allowed to see the prisoner Fouquet, who is kept in the Bastille fortress. The bearer of this document, Mr. Colbert, may also personally take the prisoner at his own discretion, and the commandant of the Bastille fortress, Mr. de Besmo, is ordered to provide the necessary assistance to the bearer of this document, Mr. Colbert. This document is valid for three days from the date of signing, after which it should be cancelled.” Well, now everything is in order, you can sign.
After these words, Philippe put monograms on the empty fields so that nothing could be added to the document, put the date, signed the document and handed it to the stunned Colbert.
“Thank you, Your Majesty,” Colbert replied and fell silent, waiting for Philippe to sign the rest of the papers.
Colbert left the King's office in a rage. He would have liked to immediately tear the order to shreds, but he decided to do it in his office and without witnesses.
At this moment the King's secretary, Hubert, turned to him.
“Mr. Minister,” said Hubert, “His Majesty asks you to come and see him for a few more minutes.”
Colbert nodded and returned to the office.
“Mr. Minister,” Philippe said softly, “when did you plan to visit Fouquet?”
“In a few days, Your Majesty,” Colbert answered absentmindedly. “Perhaps tomorrow, or the day after.”
“Very well,” Philippe replied. “Don’t go away for long or far today, I may need you. And don’t forget to tell me how your conversation with Fouquet ended. I’m very interested in that.”
“Certainly, Your Majesty,” answered Colbert, bowed and left.
"Damn it!" thought Colbert. "I really need to meet Fouquet! But now there's nothing I can do, I'll have to. And I still have to come up with some convincing information that I'll supposedly get from this defeated arrogant man. It's a good thing I didn't have time to tear up this document!"
After this, Colbert carefully folded the document he had received and placed it in a folder with the rest of the papers.
As soon as Colbert left the reception room, Philippe rang the bell again.
“Hubert, invite Captain d’Artagnan to see me,” Philippe said to the secretary who had entered.
"Captain d'Artagnan has just arrived. He would like to see Your Majesty," Hubert replied.
“Ask,” Philip answered with a nod.

CXX. Captain

“Your Majesty,” said d’Artagnan with a bow. “You wanted to see me?”
“As you wanted to see me, Captain,” Philip replied. “Let’s start with you. What did you want from me?”
“I ask for leave, Your Majesty, for two weeks,” the captain replied.
- Vacation? Now? When the war with Holland is about to start? - Philip was surprised.
“That’s exactly it, before it starts, I’d like to settle some personal matters,” replied d’Artagnan.
- What personal business could you have, Captain? Are one of your friends in danger again? - Philippe smiled. - But it can't be Monsieur d'Herblay, since he is all right. However, Baron du Valon and the Comte de la F;re are dead, aren't they? Or is there something I don't know?
D'Artagnan suddenly realized that Philippe did not know the true fate of his friends. "Does Philippe need to know the truth?" he thought. "The trouble with these Kings! You never know what they'll do!" So he decided to answer evasively.
“I have other friends, Your Majesty, whom I now value especially after the losses you speak of,” he replied. “I must take a short journey.”
“Out of a sense of duty?” Philip asked.
" You could say that," the captain replied. "Besides, in this case, this trip satisfies one of my most ardent desires."
“I need you here, captain,” Philip replied.
"Sire, I ask only for two weeks," d'Artagnan repeated stubbornly. "I ask you as if it were a special favor. I would not like to remind you of the service that...
“Which you just reminded me of, Captain,” interrupted Philip. “But I would like to remind you of your own words. You told me that Prince Philip could not become King if he depended on an adviser, whoever he might be. I have now become a King who does not depend on his advisers or friends for anything. I have learned that a King cannot have friends. Playmates do not count. Women do not count either. I have learned your lesson, Captain. I have studied the book by the Italian author Niccolo Machiavelli, which is called The Prince, as well as his other books. I have learned to see when I am being deceived, and I have learned to discern personal interests behind the guise of friendship. However, I have retained my complete confidence and respect for you, Captain. So do not remind me of the favor you wished to mention.” If you want to see on the throne a King who will be your eternal debtor, and who for these reasons will become your puppet, I will disappoint you. It will not happen. But my gratitude extends far enough. I will not persecute you and your friends, of whom, unfortunately, so few remain, but they are more than I have, for, I repeat to you, the King has no friends and cannot have any. So, Captain, I expect a frank conversation. Which of your friends is still alive? I do not ask how you managed to convince Louis that your friends, the Baron du Valon, the Comte de la F;re and the Vicomte de Bragelonne, were dead. I have seen the documents of their death. I want to know which of them is alive. Well?
"The Vicomte de Bragelonne, Your Majesty," replied d'Artagnan. "He miraculously survived, but I have reason to fear for his life, so I must see him as soon as possible."
"I see that you do not fully trust me, Captain," Philip answered coldly. "A small lie breeds great mistrust. Well, I will give you leave, but first I ask you to carry out one small task for me."
“I am listening to you, Your Majesty,” replied d’Artagnan.
“For some reason, Mr. Colbert needed a meeting with Fouquet,” Philippe replied. “But it’s possible that he was not going to meet Fouquet at all, but that prisoner that you and I know about, but about whom Colbert is not informed.”
“Mr. Colbert has many sources of information,” the captain noted.
"But not such information as this," Philippe objected. "I wish Colbert to remain ignorant of matters that do not concern him. You must take Monsieur Fouquet from the Bastille today and take him to the fortress on the island of Saint-Marguerite, under the care of Monsieur de Saint-Mars. Tomorrow may be too late. I will write the order immediately."
After these words, Philip took a pen, paper and wrote the following:

"The King's order.
Captain of the King's Musketeers d'Artagnan is to remove the prisoner Fouquet from the Bastille fortress and transport him to the fortress on the island of Saint-Marguerite.
Monsieur de Bezmo is to hand over the prisoner Fouquet to Captain d'Artagnan.
Monsieur de Saint-Mars is to take the prisoner Fouquet under his arm from Monsieur d'Artagnan.
Signed: King of France Louis XIV »
 
“The order to transfer the salary of this prisoner to the commandant de Saint-Mars will still pass through the hands of Colbert,” said d’Artagnan.
"It will be an order without mentioning names," Philippe replied. "Monsieur Colbert has recently preferred such impersonal orders. Besides, such a trifle does not necessarily have to pass through the hands of the Intendant of Finances."
“Is that all, Your Majesty?” asked the captain.
- Almost. I am not asking you to meet with the prisoner Marchiali, but you must ensure that all previously issued orders regarding the detention regime of this prisoner are carried out, - continued Philippe.
"Will there not be an additional written order on this subject?" asked d'Artagnan.
"The point?" Philip asked. "The previous order was quite clear. If I demonstrate once that orders of this kind must be confirmed from time to time, sooner or later my officers may think that if an order is not reconfirmed, it can be ignored."
“You are absolutely right, Your Majesty,” the captain agreed.
"And one more thing, Monsieur d'Artagnan, I would like to tell you this," Philippe continued. "You should never expect gratitude from others for what you have done for yourself. Now go."
The captain bowed and left the King's office.

D'Artagnan took two musketeers with him and headed to the Bastille.
Having presented the commandant of the Bastille, de Bezmo, with the King's order, d'Artagnan asked to be taken to Fouquet.
"Of course, Captain," Bezmo replied. "You're taking another prisoner from me. I suppose if this goes on, I'll be out of work."
“I assure you, Monsieur Marquis, the Bastille will not remain empty, and you will not be left without work,” replied the captain.
“But Fouquet’s allowance was the largest, if you don’t count Marchiali’s,” the commandant objected. “You’re taking away my most profitable prisoners!”
“I can tell you in confidence that I am taking them away because their allowance has been sharply reduced,” replied d’Artagnan, winking. “So you have nothing to lose. On the contrary, if these prisoners were to remain with you and their allowance were reduced, it would not only hit you personally in the pocket, but would also do a disservice to the reputation of your establishment. If these prisoners are subsequently released, they will tell everyone that they were initially fed quite well, after which they were suddenly given very simple food. In such a case, they may go so far as to make direct personal accusations.”
"What a horror!" cried Bezmo. "Take this Fouquet away quickly! I don't want him to speak ill of the Bastille."
“I, for my part, will also make every effort to maintain the reputation of the Bastille at the proper level,” d’Artagnan answered seriously. “Let’s go to Fouquet.”
Seeing d'Artagnan, Fouquet stood up and mentally prepared himself for the worst.
"Good day, Monsieur Fouquet," said d'Artagnan. "The King has decided to show concern for your health. We are going to the southern sea."
“You’re joking, Captain,” Fouquet responded, but tried to smile.
“Not at all!” replied the captain. “A beautiful coastline in the very south of France! A paradise! I’ve been there before. Cannes. A small town, a cape between the Ligurian and Belair Seas. A wonderful climate! If I were richer, I’d found a resort there, and the rich, like good little ones, would pay their money for the right to spend a week or two there. However, that’s nonsense, you won’t have to pay. You’ll be given a separate room on an island with a view of the sea. There’s even a carriage and a pair of horses on this island, I delivered them there myself, although it takes no more than ten minutes to trot from one end to the other, and even less at a gallop. And yet, the island has a lake, a beach, a fortress, and a wonderful view of the monastery on the neighboring island. A wonderful place!”
“As far away from Paris as possible!” Fouquet continued.
"Listen, Monsieur Fouquet, I would be happy to get as far away from Paris as possible, but business does not let me go," replied d'Artagnan. "We will go on horseback. You will give me your word as Fouquet that you will not try to escape, I have two musketeers with me, we all have loaded muskets and swords, but, however, your word will be the best guarantee for us, if you remain the same Fouquet whom I had the honor of knowing.
“On my word, Fouquet, I will not attempt to escape and will go with you to wherever you are taking me without the slightest resistance,” replied Fouquet.
"That pleases me, for I thought that sitting in a carriage would not be as interesting for you as riding on horseback," said the captain. "A horseback ride would do you no harm. However, if you wish, we can hire a carriage at the stops in the towns through which we shall pass."
"Thank you, captain, thank you!" replied Fouquet. "I shall indeed be glad to ride!"
“You will make me completely happy if you agree to wear this soft cloth mask in public places, and especially in cities and villages,” said d’Artagnan, taking out of his pocket a previously prepared mask of a gray, almost metallic color.
“Accepted,” replied Fouquet.
“You will, of course, not enter into conversation with those you meet and will not attempt to reveal your identity, not to mention calling on anyone to free you,” continued d’Artagnan.
“But I gave my word to Fouquet!” exclaimed Fouquet.
“I am glad that I will not have to say that if you try to break this word, I would rather let my musketeers kill you than allow you to escape,” the captain continued. “But that is only if I am not talking to the Fouquet I knew.”
After this, the captain led the prisoner out of the fortress, and the four horsemen moved towards the southern gate of Paris.

If d'Artagnan had looked back more often, he would have noticed that another horseman was racing behind him at some distance. It was Auguste de Trabu;on.

CXXI. Journey with Fouquet

So the four horsemen set off on horseback towards Cannes. They were d'Artagnan, Fouquet, de Parisot and de Sigal.
" Monsieur Fouquet, relax and enjoy the trip," said d'Artagnan. "I am your friend as much as I can be."
“I have heard a great many such assurances,” said Fouquet. “But life has shown that they are worth nothing.”
"You have heard such words from people who expect to receive money from you, because you have heard them at a time when large sums of money were at your disposal," replied d'Artagnan. "Even the expressions of gratitude from such people were a form of request for further infusions of money. Whereas I can expect nothing from you, since you can give me nothing. My friendliness consists in my being ready to carry out any commissions you may have, provided they do not conflict with my duty. I can carry them out without any hope of gratitude, simply because I like you deeply."
“Even now, when I am crushed?” asked Fouquet.
“Right now, when you are crushed,” the captain confirmed.
“I will not ask you to take care of my family, since I know that the King has not touched my loved ones and has not allowed them to be completely ruined,” replied Fouquet. “And I will not ask you to take care of me, since the question of how and where to support me is decided, apparently, by the King.”
"You cannot know with complete certainty the fate of your family, for you may be deceived," objected d'Artagnan, "but you are right, your wife and children are quite well off. I will try to obtain a meeting with your family for you, but I promise nothing."
"Thank you, captain!" cried Fouquet. "I did not ask for it, nor could I hope for it, and your offer is all the more valuable, even if you fail. I do not think I can think of any substantial request that you could perform, and with which I would burden you."
"That says a lot about you, Monsieur Fouquet," said d'Artagnan. "But think about it. The road is long, perhaps you have forgotten something."
"Thank you, Monsieur d'Artagnan!" said Fouquet again. "You are very kind."
“Tell me, Monsieur Fouquet,” said the captain after a pause, “have you never thought that perhaps you made a mistake in returning the man whom the Bishop of Vannes had deposed to his original place?”
"Have mercy, Captain!" cried Fouquet. "I understand perfectly well that I have made only an unsuccessful attempt to do what you are talking about, whereas you have carried out this mission from beginning to end, and with ease!"
“Let’s say that’s true,” the captain agreed, “but if the outcome depended entirely on your will, how would you act now if it were possible to go back and make this choice again?”
"It is a difficult philosophical and political question, as well as a question of conscience and religion," replied Fouquet. "You are right, I have indeed thought a lot about this subject, and although I have many arguments for and against, I have not yet come to a final conclusion.
"Then I will make the question more precise," continued d'Artagnan. "I am not asking you how you would act in these or those circumstances, but I will ask you how you would remain inactive. After much reflection, if you could return to that moment, would you prefer to remain inactive in a situation in which, on your first impulse, you chose to act, and quite decisively?"
“The first impulse is not always the wisest, but always the most worthy,” replied Fouquet.
"That's only true for worthy people," d'Artagnan objected. "For mercantile people, the first impulse is always directed toward personal gain."
“You have told me either too much or too little to have a productive conversation,” Fouquet said.
"Who told you that I am trying to have a productive conversation?" d'Artagnan replied with a smile. "I am simply entertaining myself and you with idle chatter to brighten up the journey."
“I thought you needed advice,” Fouquet said thoughtfully.
"If I want advice on what is most wise, I will ask Monsieur d'Herblay; if I want advice on what is most noble, I will ask the Comte de la Fere," replied d'Artagnan. "If I want advice on what is most valiant, I will ask the Baron du Valon; and if I want advice on what is most mad, I will ask the Vicomte de Bragelonne."
“In what case do you ask yourself, sir?” asked Fouquet.
"In all other cases, or in the case where I require advice on how to act at once most wisely, and most nobly, and most valiantly, and, perhaps, most madly," replied the captain. "In that case, I give myself advice."
“That is, practically, almost always?” Fouquet smiled.
"You see, Monsieur Fouquet," replied d'Artagnan, "I know my friends so well, or rather we have become so much one and inseparable, that I do not need to ask Athos or Aramis or Porthos what they would advise me to do. I only have to ask one of them a question in my mind, and I can almost hear their answer in my head."
“Have you tried to verify the accuracy of your predictions?” asked Fouquet.
“There was no occasion for that,” the captain replied. “However, it is of no use. I do not pretend to guess exactly or to know my friends thoroughly. If I could predict their every word, it would simply be uninteresting for us to communicate. But I believe I know the spirit of my friends’ basic views well enough.”
“Listening to you, captain, I begin to think that I have never had friends,” Fouquet said thoughtfully.
"Who did you consider the Bishop of Vannes to be?" asked d'Artagnan.
“I considered and consider him my friend, but not in the sense you said,” replied Fouquet. “He is a noble man who understood me in everything and supported me, and whom I supported.”
"It's called an ally, Mr. Fouquet," the captain clarified. "Any alliance lasts as long as it is beneficial to both parties. As soon as the alliance is not beneficial to at least one party, that party leaves the alliance."
"Why do you think so little of our friendship with Monsieur d'Herblay?" asked Fouquet, feeling somewhat hurt.
"If any one of our four were in the Bastille, the rest would do everything possible and impossible to get him out," replied d'Artagnan. "I never doubted it. If three of us were in hell, the fourth would go down to hell to get the others out."
“I never had a single friend like that,” Fouquet agreed.
"But you yourself tried to become such a friend to the King, didn't you?" asked d'Artagnan.
"This is not friendship, this is the duty of a French citizen and an honest subject," sighed Fouquet. "A debt of honor and a debt of hospitality, since the King was kidnapped from my house."
“You have wasted the diamonds of your soul on the wrong people, Monsieur Fouquet,” said d’Artagnan sadly.
“I know, and I have been reproaching myself for it ever since I met you!” exclaimed Fouquet.
"Listen, Monsieur Fouquet, our conversation is becoming too sad," said d'Artagnan. "Tell me one of your friend La Fontaine's fables."
Fouquet burst out laughing and began to recall and recite one after another the fables of the famous fabulist, since, thanks to his excellent memory, which allowed him to store in his head huge columns of expenses and incomes, he remembered these fables from the first reading verbatim and could even recite them, imitating the intonation and voice of La Fontaine.

CXXII. Candia

Athos, Porthos and Rochefort arrived in Bari. There they rented a small fast sailing vessel, on which they set out for the island of Crete. According to the conditions stipulated in the letter, only a boat with two people was to approach the fortress of Candia, otherwise the Turkish guns would sink the vessel. Although Greece was not at war with Turkey, such conditions made the journey even on a Greek ship quite risky, and as for the two people who were to go on the boat, their safety was guaranteed only by the "word of honor" of the authors of the letter, and knowing how unreliable the Turks were in those days even towards their allies, one could consider this trip madness.
Athos did not want to take Porthos with him, who was going to visit an old friend and met him when the Count was leaving Blois. At first they agreed that Porthos would accompany the Count only a little, but little by little, Porthos extracted information from the Count, who did not know how to lie, about both the purpose of the trip and its danger. If the Count, like the cunning Aramis, had told Porthos that his trip was not at all dangerous, he would still have had a chance to dissuade Porthos from the idea of a joint trip. But as soon as Porthos learned that the trip undertaken by the Count was associated with a mortal risk, it became simply impossible to dissuade the Baron from participating in this trip.
- Look here, Athos, - said Porthos. - I have already died once in the cave of Locmaria. I tell you honestly that it was not a pleasant occupation, but I have already lived through it. I will not die a second time of hunger, in the dark and cramped quarters. I would rather be shot or stabbed. If I die fighting for one of my best friends, I will have something to tell Saint Peter or the devil in the next world, depending on who meets me there. If my second death is as joyless and disgusting as my first death was, I simply cannot live through it!
- Porthos, my friend, you are full of strength, and can live a long and happy life! - Athos objected. - Why should you die?
“Why not, if it comes to that?” objected Porthos. “I have no intention of dying just like that, for nothing better to do. But I am a musketeer from head to toe. Even in my youth I offered my chest to any rude fellow who dared to touch me, and it is not my fault that my sword was quicker, or my fist stronger! However, I am accustomed to risking my life for such trifles that it is time for me to finally settle down! To die in a duel with some royal boaster would be extremely offensive at my age. Much better to die fighting the Turks, or defending my friend, or, at worst, rescuing the grandson of Henry IV. Such a death is not embarrassing to tell about in a circle of children.
“Do you have children, Porthos?” Athos asked in surprise.
"I suppose not, but who among us can vouch for that?" Porthos chuckled. "I doubt if I have children of noble birth, but if some peasant woman from Pierrefonds or Brassieu tells me that I have them, I cannot swear on the Bible that she is lying."
“Well, then, you think you can tell one of these children about your death yourself?” Athos smiled.
"Such an important matter cannot be entrusted to anyone else," Porthos answered with all seriousness. "Writers always distort everything; there is not a drop of truth in their books."
- Do you find that? - asked the Count. - How many books have you read, Baron?
- That's precisely why I haven't read a single one since Madame du Valon passed away, - Porthos replied. - The last books I saw were the ones she read to me. I always fell asleep so sweetly to her monotonous voice! Some of them were charmingly boring. You know, those with descriptions of nature, rural or urban views, or those where the author allowed himself to philosophize to his heart's content at the expense of his readers' patience.
"Was Madame du Valon angry with you because you fell asleep while reading?" asked Athos.
“Why would she be angry if I asked her to read for the very purpose of falling asleep faster?” Porthos asked innocently.
"So, Porthos, you absolutely refuse to allow me to take care of your life?" asked Athos.
“Athos, if you tell me that you, in my place, would let your friend go alone in a similar situation…” answered Porthos.
"Not a word, my friend!" replied Athos. "You are right, of course. In your place I would do exactly the same."
“Then why can’t I do as you would?” Porthos asked with a disarming smile.
After this, the friends shook hands, hugged and did not return to this conversation again.

When the ship on which our friends were sailing came within cannon shot of the fortress of Candia, the captain gave the order to drop anchor and lower the boat.
"If we are not back by evening, weigh anchor and go to the port of Gramvousa," Athos said to Rochefort. "If after that time we can escape the Turks, we will try to get there, to Gramvousa. If we are gone for three days, return home."
“We will wait for you for three days here at the roadstead, Count, after which I will decide for myself how to proceed,” answered Rochefort.
"Well, if our mission is successful, then the differences between the two plans are not essential," Athos agreed. "If it is unsuccessful, no one has the right to forbid you to act as you see fit."
After this, Rochefort shook hands with Athos and Porthos, and held the rope ladder by which they descended into the boat.
On the shore, four Turkish soldiers, as well as an officer and a translator, were waiting for Athos and Porthos.
“Have you arrived in response to Ahmed Pasha’s letter?” the officer asked through the interpreter.
“Yes, we have come to discuss the ransom for the Duke de Beaufort,” replied Athos.
“Come with us,” the officer replied and walked towards the fortress.

CXXIII. The Fortress from Within

"Come here," the officer said in broken French, without an interpreter. "You will soon see the one you came here for. Please put your weapon on this table, and when you leave here, it will be returned to you."
Since Athos and Porthos were armed only with swords, they placed them on the table.
“Now let us go to the Duke de Beaufort,” said the officer. “Follow me.”
After this, an iron door with thick iron bolts was opened in front of them, the friends went down to the basement and approached the next iron door.
“We’re almost there, come in,” said the officer and opened the door for them.
Seeing that the cell that was opened in front of them had another door, the friends entered the cell, believing that the Duke de Beaufort was waiting for them behind the next door. However, as soon as they entered, the iron door slammed behind them.
Porthos looked at Athos in surprise, who smiled sadly in response, as if to say that he had not ruled out such a development of events.
A minute later, a barred window in the door opened, revealing a woman's face.
— Count de la Fer! — said the woman. — I am so glad to see you here! Allow me to introduce myself, Olivia Celik. My husband is Ahmed Celik, also known as Ahmed Pasha. By my previous husband, I am Olivia de Trabu;on. God, how I have been waiting for this moment!
"Madame, I do not have the honor of knowing you," said Athos coldly. "You will, I suppose, give me information about the Duke de Beaufort?"
"Of course," Olivia replied. "As far as I know, the Duke of Beaufort died during a sortie from this very fortress, which eventually fell to the Ottoman Empire anyway. His sacrifice was in vain, as was yours."
"But this letter, madam?" asked Athos. "After all, it said that he was alive, and that the Ottoman Empire was demanding a ransom for him."
"Just a trap to lure you, Count!" laughed Olivia. "And that unfortunate fellow who came with you. What is his name?"
“I am a bar…” Porthos began.
"Barbier, madam, his name is Isaac Barbier," replied Athos, firmly squeezing Porthos's hand. "He is my neighbor, a peasant who has volunteered to help me."
“He’s dressed like a nobleman,” Olivia objected incredulously.
"He wears the clothes of his landowner, Antoine de Fillon, an old friend of mine," Athos continued. "They are about the same size."
“Okay, to hell with your Isaac Barbier,” Olivia waved her hand. “You are enough for me, Count.”
“I repeat, madam, that I do not have the honor of knowing you and do not understand why you needed to meet with me.
“But I know you very well,” replied Olivia, “and I also know your friends, Captain d’Artagnan and the Duke d’Alameda.”
“I know d’Artagnan, but I’m hearing the name of the Duke d’Alameda for the first time,” replied Athos.
"That is what he who was once called Monsieur d'Herblay now calls himself," Olivia clarified. "Does that name ring a bell?"
"Of course," replied Athos. "So you have business with my friends, and therefore with me. Well, I listen to you, madam."
“My affairs are such that I wish them the greatest evil that is in my power to cause them, and you will help me in this,” continued Olivia.
"I am no help in such matters," replied Athos. "I fear, madam, that I shall rather hinder your plans with all my might."
“Nothing depends on you anymore, Count,” Olivia grinned. “Your job is to be bait for these two, or at least a subject for my bargaining.”
"My friends are not merchants, and you will not be able to do business with them," Athos answered coldly. "They will, of course, come to my rescue, but not in the ways you expect."
- We'll see about that, Count! - Olivia replied. - I had no problems with you, my plan worked absolutely perfectly. Why do you think the second part of my plan is worse than the first?
"I think nothing of your plan, madam, and I will keep my opinion of your methods to myself," Athos answered coldly. "So, if I understand you correctly, your letter was a base deception, we cannot rescue the Duke de Beaufort, therefore our stay here is unnecessary. Therefore, we consider it possible to make every effort not to abuse your hospitality and to leave here as soon as possible.
- You will not succeed, Monsieur le Comte, and Monsieur Isaac Barbier! - Olivia exclaimed joyfully. - If you write a letter to your friends asking them to come here and try to rescue you, I will be extremely grateful for such kindness, but I do not expect cooperation. Therefore, I have already prepared such a letter myself, and to prove that you are really my guest, I will send them two of your swords.
After this, the window in the iron door slammed shut and silence reigned.

"Athos, I thought you were incapable of lying!" said Porthos, who had remained silent all this time, because Athos was squeezing his hand with all his might.
"The truth is only good when speaking to truthful and worthy people," Athos replied. "I am truthful, but not pathologically. Any normal person is capable of lying when it is absolutely necessary. But we may be overheard, so be careful in your choice of words."
"I think that what we need now is not words, but actions," Porthos replied. "I am considering how best to break down the doors. But d'Artagnan taught me that before breaking down barriers, one must have a plan for the further path."
"And he was quite right, my dear Isaac Barbier," replied Athos. "Don't mention the names of our friends, and don't say that you know them. At least then you'll have a better chance of getting out of here," he added in a whisper.
“You have already been in this fortress, Count?” asked Porthos. “You are probably familiar with its plan?”
“Of course, dear Isaac, any officer arriving at a fortress first of all familiarizes himself with its plan, and I made no exception in this case,” Athos agreed. “This casemate is in the basement, and its back wall is the outer wall of the fortress.
"Things are bad for us," Porthos said sadly. "The outer wall is too thick, you can't break it with your bare hands. And from which side did the Turks attack the fortress?"
“It was precisely from this very side that the most fierce attack came,” answered Athos.
"Did they make any attempt to dig a sapa?" asked Porthos.
"They did, Porthos, and that was the reason the Duke of Beaufort made his sortie," replied Athos. "They blew up the passage dug by the Turks, which was intended to blow up the wall."
“The explosion collapsed the beginning of this passage, but perhaps the end of the sapa dug by the Turks remained intact?” Porthos suggested.
- Do you suppose that the Turks managed to dig a tunnel under the fortress wall? - Athos was surprised. - Well, I saw two collapsed tunnels and I can roughly indicate how far they were from the edge of the wall. But we don’t know which chamber we are in. Now if we counted the steps from the beginning of the underground gallery.
"Imagine, Count, I counted the steps!" replied Porthos. "I got into this habit after I supervised the construction of the fortress of Belle-Ile. I counted that we descended two flights of twelve steps each, and also walked thirty-eight steps along the gallery.
"Excellent, Port… Isaac!" cried Athos. "Wait a minute, I must remember the plan exactly and compare it with what I saw outside."
Athos closed his eyes and began to mentally calculate something.
"Your stride seems to be one and a half times greater than mine, in which case... Wait a minute. One of the tunnels must lead under the next room, if that door is not locked," Athos finally said.
"It's locked, but what does that matter to us? The lock is so-so, flimsy!" answered Porthos.
With these words, he picked up the padlock and began to twist it with all his might. The lock withstood these manipulations, but one of the hinges began to wobble. After half an hour of work, it yielded to the efforts of our giant and Porthos found himself in the hands of not only the lock, but also one of the door hinges attached to it.
"Here is your tool for turning stones out of the floor," said Porthos. "But it seems to me that the second loop will be more convenient."
After these words, he tore off the second loop, which had the shape of a plate with a bent eye.
“Well, let’s start digging,” said Porthos in such a calm voice that one might have thought that it was really a certain peasant, Isaac Barbier, who was starting to dig up another bed in which he was going to sow spinach.

CXXIV. Louis

Having waited for another ship with provisions, Louis, as a very sick man, climbed onto the ship and went on it to Cannes to see a doctor. Since he was dressed like a monk, he was treated with respect. Louis thought that this clothing might well suit him for the entire upcoming journey to Paris. Since his face was clean-shaven, like all monks, he did not have the characteristic jaunty upward-curling moustache and pointed beard that had been brought into fashion by his father, Louis XIII. This made him almost unrecognizable, at least among those people who did not know him personally and had never met him before.
- Holy father, the doctor is nearby, go down this street, you will see a sign with a cup and a snake, - the captain of the ship told him. - Well, do you need a guide?
“Thank you, my friend,” replied Louis, “I’ll sit here on the bench for a while and then I’ll get there myself.”
Having no other means of payment than the rings that had remained on his fingers since his abduction on the way from Mademoiselle de La Valli;re, and having given two of them for minor services to the keeper of the monastery, Louis decided that the remaining four rings should be spent sparingly. So he chose the least expensive of them and hid the rest. With this ring, he approached the owner of the first inn he came across.
"My dear sir," he said to the innkeeper, "I must make a journey to Paris on monastery business. I need a carriage."
“This is the first time I’ve seen a simple novice travel in a carriage!” exclaimed the innkeeper.
“That’s not what I meant,” Louis said, catching himself. “I’ll need the carriage later, but now I need a horse.”
"Are you going to buy a horse or rent one?" asked the innkeeper.
“This is the first time I have made such a journey myself,” said Louis. “What do you advise me?”
“The easiest way would be to travel by post horses,” the innkeeper replied, “but for that you need a travel document.”
- A travel document? - asked Louis. - That is, an order? Who should it be signed by? The minister?
- The Minister! - the innkeeper laughed. - The Minister signs only the most important orders, well, if you don't count those signed by the King. The travel document is signed by the head of the department that has the right to use the state postal service.
"But what if the matter is so important that the King himself has signed it?" asked Louis. "Should we pay for the post horses in that case?"
- What are you saying, holy father! - the innkeeper smiled. - Those who carry out the King's orders are not asked for money at the post offices.
“Wonderful, my friend, thank you!” replied Louis.
He almost asked the innkeeper for a piece of paper and a pen, but he remembered that such actions might look too suspicious.
"Where can I find the nearest post office, my dear?" asked Louis.
- Two streets to the right, there's a sign there, - the innkeeper answered. - You'll also recognize it by the long hitching post and the spacious stable nearby.
“Thank you, my son,” replied Louis. “I ask one more favor of you. The monastery did not provide me with money for the journey, but it gave me this ring, donated by a rich widow to charitable causes. Could you not turn it into the money I need for the journey?”
“I don’t have that amount,” the innkeeper replied, “but you can contact the jeweler Solomon, who lives two houses away.”
- Very well, my friend! - answered Louis. - I will return with the money and ask you to prepare me a dinner, and also two, no, five sheets of clean paper, the best you can find, some pens and a travel inkwell. I will pay for all this.
“Okay, holy father, I’m waiting for you,” the innkeeper replied.

The jeweler Solomon was very surprised when he saw the cheapest of the rings that Louis offered him for sale.
"This is a wonderful ring!" he exclaimed. "Where did a poor monk get such a treasure?"
"My friend, do not judge a man by his appearance," Louis replied. "This ring is not stolen, I can swear to it on the Bible. A rich duchess donated it to our monastery, and I was ordered to turn it into money in order to make an important order."
“For such a ring you can order a reliquary even better than the one I made for the relics of Saint Ambrose!” the jeweler replied.
“It seems that the monastery will order something similar, and most likely from you,” Louis replied.
- Why do you need to turn the ring into money then? - the jeweler was surprised. - After all, the monastery can pay with a ring for the work.
“We also need money for roofing work,” Louis replied. “The roof is leaking, and it’s going to rain soon.”
“Why didn’t the keeper come to me with this ring himself?” the curious jeweler persisted.
“He is a little ill, so he entrusted me with the order for the roof, but he will come to you himself to order the ark, as soon as he recovers,” answered Louis.
"Did he say whether the new ark would be made of gold?" asked the jeweler.
“Gold, yes, gold, and with sapphires around the edges,” Louis answered.
After this, the jeweler counted out the price of the ring to Louis, cheating him only by half.
With the money he had received, Louis went to the tavern, where he had a hearty breakfast, and then wrote the following text on one of the sheets of paper he had received:

"The King's Command
The bearer of this, Eustache Dauger, a novice at the Abbey of Lerins, is ordered to travel from Paris to Cannes and back from Cannes to Paris at the expense of the royal treasury.
All employees of the state postal service, as well as officers and soldiers of all branches of the armed forces, are to assist the novice Eustache Dauger in his journey to fulfill a special mission on behalf of the King.
Signed: King of France Louis XIV."

With this document, Louis went to the post office indicated to him, where without delay he received a mail coach, harnessed by a pair of horses and a coachman.
Half an hour later he was already rushing to Paris.

CXXV. Aramis

Aramis was rereading his correspondence when Bazin came in and reported:
- Monseigneur, you have a letter from the Ottoman Empire from a certain Olivia Celik, aka Olivia de Trabu;on.
“Very well, Bazin, thank you,” replied Aramis and took the letter.

Opening the envelope, he read the following:

"So, Monsieur d'Herblay, you thought that you had finished with me and my husband and would never hear from us again? That was a great mistake! Olivia de Trabu;on can take care of herself!
Your friend, a certain Count de La F;re, is my prisoner! With him is also a certain Isaac Barbier, whom he called a peasant, but he is dressed like a nobleman, and it is clear that your friend is deceiving me. Both of these people are completely in my power, and if you do not fulfill my demands, they will die in agony, and will die a long time. In the Ottoman Empire they know how to execute slowly and painfully, and my new husband, Ahmed Celik, also known as Ahmed Pasha, will do for me, his beloved wife, what I ask of him.
So, if you value your friend the Count de la F;re, you must compensate me as soon as possible for all the damage you have done to my family by your actions. If it were not for you, my husband would already be a major in the guards, or even a colonel. Besides, I believe that he would have received a solid monetary reward for his faithful service. My present position does not upset me too much, but I do not intend to spend my whole life as one of four wives of some Turk, even a pasha. I want to return to Paris in triumph. I demand a patent for the post of colonel for my husband and eight hundred thousand livres for myself. I also need two hundred thousand livres for those who helped me in my undertaking, a million in all. In addition, Captain d'Artagnan must resign. Only in this case will the Count de la F;re and his friend Isaac Barbier return to France alive.
As proof that the said Count de La F;re and Isaac Barbier are in my complete power, I send you their swords.
Olivia Celik, aka Olivia de Trabu;on.
"Written in the fortress of Candia on the island of Crete."

Aramis rang the bell, after which Bazin entered his office again.
"Was there anything attached to the letter?" Arami asked.
“A bundle that appears to contain two swords,” replied Bazin.
"Show me!" cried Aramis.
Having barely glanced at the swords, he said sadly:
- Yes, it is they - Athos and Porthos. Bazin, do you remember what regular work I entrusted to you after I was appointed Spanish ambassador?
“You instructed me, through the people whose contacts you gave me, Monseigneur, that I should always know where Monsieur d’Artagnan was and what he was doing,” replied Bazin.
"Where is he now?" asked Aramis.
“The captain took leave and went south,” answered Bazin.
“What preceded this trip?” asked the prelate.
“Monsieur d’Artagnan visited the Duchess de Chevreuse, after which he immediately went to the King, and after him he took two musketeers, went to the Bastille, and then left there accompanied by three horsemen,” answered Bazin.
“Where is Fran;ois now?” asked the prelate.
“He has free time now, most likely he is at Planchet’s establishment,” answered Bazin.
“I want to see him,” Aramis replied.
Half an hour later, Aramis entered Planchet's establishment. Bazin and Planchet exchanged firm handshakes.
"Planchet, good day!" Aramis addressed him. "Fran;ois is not with you?"
"Good day, Monseigneur," Planchet replied. "In room four. Should I bring you something to drink or something to eat?"
“Thank you, Planchet, that’s unnecessary, I’m in a hurry,” replied Aramis and quickly climbed the stairs to number four.
"May I come in, Fran;ois?" Aramis asked through the door.
“Come in!” Fran;ois replied.
“I am Monsieur d'Herblay, a friend of your father,” said Aramis.
“I know you from Planchet’s stories and have seen you several times; I am glad to have the honor of receiving you, although I cannot offer you a worthy reception,” said Fran;ois, looking around his modest dwelling.
"That's nothing!" Aramis replied. "I have a couple of questions for you."
“I am at your service, Monseigneur,” replied Fran;ois.
"Tell me, my friend, what do you know about the captain's journey to the south?" asked Aramis.
“I know nothing about this, Monseigneur, but I myself recently went to the south,” said Fran;ois.
“Where exactly?” asked Aramis.
"Under the command of the Duke d'Epernon, I and three other guardsmen went to the island of Saint-Marguerite, where the Duke presented the commandant of the fortress with Colbert's order, which had no effect on the commandant," answered Fran;ois. "After that, we went back, and the Duke was terribly angry the whole way."
- Thank you, dear Fran;ois! - said Aramis. - Goodbye!
After this, Aramis left Fran;ois and went straight to the Duchess de Chevreuse.
The Duchess received Aramis immediately.
“Duke, I never thought that I would ever see you as my guest,” said the Duchess.
“You should try to invite me, Duchess, and you would see that I would not neglect your invitation,” replied Aramis.
“Oh, you once called me simply Maria,” sighed the Duchess. “In those days you came to me uninvited, and not always through the door!”
"The man you speak of was named Henri-Ren; d'Herblay, who took the name of Aramis in honor of his family's Abbey of Aramitz," replied Aramis. "There is little left of this man, one might say that he no longer exists, and there is only the Duke of Alameda, the aged ambassador of Spain."
“So you no longer call me Maria, and I will no longer have the chance to call you Henri,” said the Duchess sadly.
“Oh, my God, call me whatever you like, Duchess, I have something important to talk to you about, and we are wasting time on sentimentality,” said Aramis impatiently.
“Indeed! I couldn’t have thought that you had dropped in on me just like that,” smiled the Duchess, in whose eyes two sparks lit up at the mention of business, because the old schemer once again felt needed.
“What do you know about the Count de la Fere’s trip to Crete?” asked Aramis.
“Probably the same as you,” replied the Duchess. “He went there to negotiate the ransom of the Duke de Beaufort, who was supposed to be alive and a prisoner of the Turks. He suspected it was a trap, but nevertheless he went there with a friend, a figure resembling your Porthos, or whatever his name was. If I did not know for certain that he was dead, I would think that he was accompanying the Count. However, I do not know for certain that he was.”
"Thank you, Duchess," replied Aramis. "Is there anything else in this connection that I should like to know?"
“My cousin, Count Rochefort, saw them off,” replied the Duchess, “but according to the terms of the letter, only two were to go to the fortress of Candia, so he most likely remained to wait for them on the ship.
“Thank you, what else?” asked Aramis.
“What else should you know?” asked the Duchess with pathos. “How can I know what exactly you are interested in? Do you want to know that I still love you? Probably not! Do you want to know that Princess Henrietta is head over heels in love with the Count de Guiche, but at the same time flirts shamelessly with the King, and he is gradually falling under her spell? Or do you want to know that this circumstance, of course, angers Philippe d’Orl;ans and Queen Marie-Therese? That the King is gradually losing interest in little La Valli;re, and is increasingly interested in the Princess of Monaco, not neglecting Madame de Montale as well? How do I know whether you are interested in this or not? Do you want to know that the scandal with Marie-Therese may result in a deterioration in relations with Spain, which you represent? Perhaps you are interested in this, and perhaps you are not. Do you want to know that Colbert has already spoken about this scandal behind closed doors, to the effect that it is a scandal? Do you want to know that Colbert has discussed this scandal with the Chevalier de Lorraine? Do you want to know what I think about it? Do you want to know that the Chevalier de Lorraine is a man who has always wished and continues to wish evil upon Princess Henrietta, and that things may come to the point where I cannot guarantee that the Princess will survive next Monday? Or that the Count de Wardes, who poses as a friend of Monsieur, Madame, and the Count de Guiche, is only busy slandering de Guiche in the eyes of Monsieur and Madame, and slandering Madame in the eyes of de Guiche and Monsieur, and ridiculing Monsieur in conversations with Madame and with de Guiche? Which exactly interests you, Henri, or the Duke d'Alameda, or the Abb; d'Herblay?
“All this preoccupies me greatly, Duchess, but what preoccupies me most is the question of how to free the Comte de la F;re from the trap,” replied Aramis.
- The Count de la Fere is trapped? - the Duchess exclaimed in horror. - Why were you silent? We must save the Count!
"Thank you for your advice, Duchess," replied Aramis. "That is precisely what I had intended to do before I came to you for information."
After this, Aramis kissed the Duchess's hand dryly and left.

"No, he never loved me!" thought the Duchess. "True love never leaves without a trace. He who has loved cannot remain indifferent. He either loves or hates."
"Well, well!" thought Aramis. "The Duchess seems to be in love with Athos! Who would have thought that this woman, who always needs at least two lovers, is capable of loving someone herself!"

CXXVI. Colbert

The day after his conversation with the King, Colbert came to the Bastille to talk with Fouquet.
"Marquis, take me to the prisoner Fouquet's cell," he ordered, turning to the commandant of the Bastille, Monsieur de Bezmo. "Here is the King's order that I may dispose of his fate."
"In that case, sir, you are too late," replied Bezmo. "The prisoner Fouquet was taken yesterday by order of the King by Captain d'Artagnan to be taken to the fortress of the island of Saint-Marguerite."
- Damn it! What carriage did he leave in and at what time? - growled Colbert. - I'll catch up with him!
“That’s unlikely, since they rode away on horseback, and their horses, as I noticed, were excellent,” answered Bezmo.
"This is beyond all bounds!" exclaimed Colbert. "To mock the minister like this!"
“You can come with this document to the fortress of the island of Saint-Marguerite and take Fouquet from there,” Bezmo said uncertainly, trying to smooth over the awkwardness of the situation.
"This document has a limited validity," Colbert replied angrily. "By the time I get there, it will no longer be valid. Besides, I don't have time for such long trips."
“Well, then you won’t be able to carry out this order of the King, but you will have an objective justification,” Bezmo replied.
"Where and when has an objective justification ever saved someone guilty of failing to carry out orders?!" Colbert exclaimed. "He who receives an impossible order is doomed to punishment in advance, that's all. Perhaps that's why impossible orders are given! Besides, you don't have the King's order that you gave to Fouquet, do you?"
“I made a copy of it, copied it into the register, and Monsieur d’Artagnan certified this copy with his own signature that the text was copied correctly, you can admire it,” answered Bezmo, proud of his foresight.
Colbert skimmed the entry and slammed the journal shut angrily.
“Goodbye, Monsieur Marquis,” he said and quickly left the commandant’s office.

“Your Majesty, regarding my proposed conversation with Fouquet, you apparently guess its outcome,” Colbert said during the next audience.
“I am not a seer, Mr. Minister,” Philip objected. “How did the visit end?”
“I didn’t find Fouquet in the Bastille, Fouquet isn’t there,” Colbert replied, trying to say this as dispassionately as possible.
- Really? - asked Philip with feigned surprise. - Where is he then?
“In accordance with your orders, Captain d’Artagnan is currently transporting him to the fortress on the island of Saint-Marguerite,” replied Colbert.
- Indeed, I remember that I gave orders for such a transfer, - answered Philippe with an absent-minded look. - However, I did not think that Captain d'Artagnan would be so quick to carry out my order! I thought that you, who received my signature on the order you had prepared yesterday, would not put off this conversation until the next day. Look, the captain, who received my order much later than you, carried it out much earlier! I hope you are not going to reproach your King for being less prompt than Captain d'Artagnan?
"Your Majesty always acts with the utmost prudence," replied Colbert. " It is the duty of your subjects to carry out your orders as best they can, and I seem to be to blame for not having hastened to carry out this order yesterday. It seems to me that you asked me yesterday not to go far, since you might need me."
- Of course, Mr. Colbert, but does such a request cancel the necessity of carrying out the previously given order? - asked Philippe. - Besides, is the Bastille really that far from the Louvre? Remember, Mr. Colbert, the Bastille is very, very close to the Louvre. Never forget that. Mr. Fouquet had the misfortune to ignore this simple fact. However, he is not the only one.
“I will remember that, Your Majesty,” Colbert replied with a bow, swallowing his insult. “Allow me to ask, Your Majesty, why do you think that the fortress of the island of Saint-Marguerite is a more suitable place for holding the state criminal Fouquet than the Bastille?”
"Didn't you yourself, Monsieur Colbert, tell me that after one conversation with him you would no longer need him?" asked Philippe. "Believing that this conversation would take place in the near future, I decided to put Fouquet away for the future, so that no one else would try to extract from him financial secrets, which, as you understand, a person who has occupied the highest post in the Ministry of Finance for many years is sure to have. Such information must be kept securely, very securely. Monsieur de Saint-Mars has proven that his fortress is the most reliable safe for such secrets.
“What’s wrong with the Bastille, Your Majesty?” asked Colbert.
“The Bastille is good in every way, Monsieur Colbert, except that it is too close to the Louvre,” replied Philippe. “This proximity is a great advantage when it is a question of quickly putting a man in there who is in the Louvre, but it is a disadvantage when it is necessary to prevent a man from quickly getting from the fortress to the Louvre. When I sent Fouquet to the Bastille, I thought that he was finished. I do not wish to remember this man who robbed the public treasury. But not everyone around me is ready to forget him. Yesterday you reminded me of him in connection with some contracts. Monsieur Colbert, you should have settled all the affairs of Fouquet’s contracts on the day he was arrested and all his papers were in your possession, or in the next week after that. You should have cleared up all the ambiguities immediately, while the trail was still hot.” A finance minister who recalls contracts concluded by his predecessor six months after taking his place casts doubt on his competence. If the information known to Fouquet was important to you, you should have learned it immediately after his arrest. Time has passed, and now we have other matters to attend to, more urgent ones. Fouquet's old contracts, for which you can only obtain the oral guarantee of a state criminal, do not interest me, and they should not interest you. Answer me honestly, Monsieur Colbert, when you gave me a document to sign, a document in which neither the name of the prisoner, nor the name of the fortress, nor the name of the commandant were indicated, did you really have Fouquet in mind?
Colbert turned pale, his hands began to shake, but he tried to control himself.
“Your Majesty, your question shows a lack of confidence, in which case all that remains for me is to ask for my resignation,” he said in a dull voice.
“If I didn’t trust you, I would formulate my doubts not as a question, but as a statement,” Philippe snapped dryly. “Don’t talk nonsense. You won’t get a resignation. You’re doing a great job of managing the finances and material support of the army and navy. So do these duties. Leave the prisoners of the fortress on the island of Saint-Marguerite alone, leave Monsieur d’Artagnan and Monsieur d’Herblay alone.”
At that moment, someone scratched at the door of the King's office.
“Who else is there?” asked Philip.
"It's me, Your Majesty!" said the Chevalier de Lorraine, entering the office. "Have you forgotten that we have an entertainment event today? Everything is ready for the holiday, Your Majesty, only you are missing."
“Is the princess there already?” Philip asked.
“Everything is in place, including Madame, only Your Majesty is missing,” replied the Chevalier de Lorraine, who made a face of displeasure at the mention of Princess Henrietta.
“Okay, I’m going,” Philippe replied. “Monsieur Colbert, that’s enough business for today, I’ll be expecting you tomorrow at the usual time.”
Colbert glared at Lorrain, received a similar glare in return, and left the King's office.

CXXVII. Saint-Marguerite

Upon arrival in Cannes, d'Artagnan rented the same vessel on which he had sailed for Philippe. Leaving his horses, he boarded the vessel, accompanied by Fouquet, de Parisot and de Sigal. The vessel soon reached the southern shore of the island of Saint-Marguerite. As on previous trips, d'Artagnan chose to land on the island not from the French coast, but from the side of the island of Saint-Honorat. Having suggested to de Parisot and de Sigal that they look after Fouquet, he also rode up to the fortress from the south, within musket shot, and raised a white handkerchief on the point of his sword. Unlike on previous trips, he remained on horseback.
After a while, two horsemen rode out of the fortress. They were de Saint-Mars and one of the guards.
"Good day, captain!" exclaimed Saint-Mars, as soon as he recognized d'Artagnan. "Are you taking my prisoner again by order of the King?"
"Not this time," the captain replied. "I have the King's order, but in accordance with that order I have brought you another prisoner, whose allowance will be received in the very near future."
"Are you wearing a mask again?" Saint-Mars asked.
“No, this time it is only the former superintendent of finance, Monseigneur Fouquet,” replied d’Artagnan.
"Only Fouquet?" Saint-Mars was surprised. "Only? Who then is this Marchiali?"
"Is that a question?" asked the captain.
"Not at all," replied Saint-Mars. "That's an empty exclamation. I don't want to know what I'm not supposed to know."
“That’s the wisdom of a man experienced in all respects,” agreed d’Artagnan.
"Well, bring your Fouquet," replied Saint-Mars. "To tell you the truth, I'm glad you're not taking Marchiali. There was some kind of confusion with him. First take him, then give him back, then take him again, then give him back again!"
“You said ‘give’ one more time than you should have, Monsieur Commandant,” d’Artagnan noted.
- Not at all! - replied Saint-Mars. - I told it as it was. The last time d'Epernon came for him, accompanied by four guardsmen on a ship. He demanded that Marchiali be handed over to me on the basis of an order signed by Colbert.
- Really? - the captain noted. - It was, apparently, a week ago?
“A week or so,” Saint-Mars agreed.
“And you, of course, left him with nothing,” d’Artagnan answered with a smile.
“One blank shot from a cannon and the promise of two real shots if the Duke decides to insist,” answered Saint-Mars.
- Excellent! - answered the captain. - I will report to His Majesty about your excellent service!
After these words, d'Artagnan handed Fouquet over to Saint-Mars, refused dinner and returned to the ship.
- Captain, we need to stop at the island of Saint-Honorat to visit a novice at the Lerins Abbey.

The abbot of the abbey informed the captain that the novice he had brought earlier had claimed to be extremely ill and had been taken to the mainland for treatment.
“How long ago did this happen?” asked d’Artagnan.
“On Monday,” the abbot replied.
“Thank you, Holy Father, we are leaving,” said the captain and gave the ship’s captain the order to return to Cannes immediately.
"Our Louis is no slouch!" thought d'Artagnan as the ship cut through the waves. "So he has decided to regain his throne! Where should I go now? Athos and Porthos are in danger, and Aramis is in no less danger! Two of my friends are languishing in captivity among the Turks, and the third does not even suspect that if Louis regains his throne, Aramis may lose his head! Now is the time to remember the motto "One for all"! I must decide who needs me more!"
— Messrs. de Sigal and de Parisot! Each of you will receive a letter from me for the King. You will take different roads, each of you will travel as quickly as possible. If there is any danger that the letter will be intercepted by anyone, you must destroy it. No, nonsense, I will not write letters. This is what you must tell the King, remember word for word: "Marciali has fled, danger to the Duke-Bishop and his friend F." Repeat.
De Sigal and de Parisot repeated the captain's message word for word, after which d'Artagnan headed for Bari, from there to sail to Cyprus to the rescue of Athos and Porthos.

CXXVIII. Crete

On the evening of the same day, when Athos and Porthos fell into the trap set by Olivia, a blank cannon shot was fired from the fortress of Candia in the direction of a ship moored in sight of the fortress.
“Count,” said the captain of the ship, “the commandant of the fortress is obviously displeased with our presence and demands that we leave.”
"Let's move away to a distance of fifty paces beyond the range of a cannon shot and drop anchor again," Rochefort ordered. "I haven't lost hope of waiting for my friends."
The ship performed the maneuver the Count had spoken of and dropped anchor again.
However, the fortress commandant was apparently not satisfied with such an insignificant concession. Smoke rose above the fortress wall, after which a cannonball splashed into the water dangerously close to the ship.
"They have good guns!" exclaimed the captain. "They shoot much further than the usual French, Spanish and Greek guns."
"Very well," said Rochefort, "let us act according to the plan proposed by the Count. We go to the port of Gramvousa and wait for news from there."
The port of Gramvousa still belonged to the Venetian Republic, that is, it was friendly to France. The ship entered this port, after which Rochefort landed on the island, where he began to think over a plan for further action.

Meanwhile, Porthos, having straightened the door hinges he had obtained, which looked like curved plates with a hole for the lock, made two straight plates from them. If these plates could have been sharpened on the stones of the casemate, they could have been made into something like a cleaver, but this would have required too much effort and time, so Porthos decided to use the plates as they were to dig an underground passage. The floor of the casemate was covered with simple bricks, which gave in quite easily.
“If they come here, the traces of our work will be immediately noticed, and we will be transferred to another cell,” said Athos.
“Then we must discourage them from coming here,” replied Porthos. “Perhaps you will pretend to be crazy while I dig?”
"That won't do," Athos replied. "They'll see through that maneuver. I'd rather demand that they come to us. I hope that in that case they'll do the opposite and leave us alone for a while."
"Where should we dump the bricks and earth?" asked Porthos.
"Here in a heap," Athos replied. "If they come in here, they'll see traces of destruction anyway. Let's dig in turns, Porthos."
"That's unnecessary," the giant replied. "I'll throw out the earth, and you just demand that they come to us, as loudly as possible. But, you know, the tool that was so useful for turning out bricks is almost completely useless for digging earth.
" The door between the chambers is not iron, but only wooden, covered with metal sheets," Athos answered. "Try to pick up and tear off one of these sheets. It is, of course, not a shovel, but it will be much easier to shovel out the earth with such a sheet."
Porthos picked up the outer sheet of the door's interior trim and tore it away from the wooden base.
"What's that noise?" someone asked outside the cell in broken French.
"We will make noise and give you no peace until they tell us why we are under arrest!" cried Athos. "We demand that the commandant of the fortress appear before us! Our states are at peace, we have come under a white flag for negotiations!"
It was not at all characteristic of Athos to shout at the top of his voice, but he tried to drown out the sounds of Porthos's work and encourage him with these shouts.
Five hours after their imprisonment, food was brought to the friends. Athos barely touched his portion, giving almost all to his friend.
“And what about you, Athos?” asked Porthos.
“I am not hungry at the moment, and you are expending an extraordinary amount of energy on your titanic work,” replied Athos.
“You must eat,” Porthos answered with conviction.
"And you must rest, Porthos," replied Athos. "I will eat this chicken leg on condition that you eat the rest and let me also stretch my legs."
“Well, Count, your arguments are convincing,” replied Porthos, who had almost finished his own portion.

 CXXIX. A keen eye

D'Artagnan was wondering which way to choose, whether to go by sea or to go by land to Bari. Having chosen the second option, he decided to sell the horse on which Fouquet had been riding, since his own money was already running out, and new receipts, as he noticed, had already stopped starting.
While negotiating a deal with an innkeeper, d'Artagnan noticed a young man who followed him constantly, clearly acting as a spy.
The captain then decided to take a short drive around Cannes. He changed direction several times, but he always noticed that the young man was following him.
"What kind of fruit is this?" he said to himself. "Interesting!"
Having entered a small alley, he hid in the shadows. As soon as the young horseman rode out from around the corner, d'Artagnan called out to him.
“You are too modest, young man,” he said. “You have followed me so long that I think you have some business with me. However, it would have been simpler to approach me there, in the tavern. If you have any questions, I may be able to answer them. So, I am listening.”
“I am just going on my own,” replied Auguste de Trabusson, for it was he.
"Then our aims simply coincide?" asked d'Artagnan. "Well, such coincidences happen. Tell me, where are you going? If the aim of our journey is the same, we can travel together as simple fellow travelers; but if your aim does not coincide with mine, we will part where our paths diverge."
“What right do you have to ask me such questions?” asked Auguste.
“By right of the man you are spying on and who does not like it,” the captain replied.
“I am a free man and can go where I see fit, and I do not intend to ask permission from anyone,” Auguste answered boldly. “Nor do I intend to reveal the purpose of my journey to the first person I meet.”
"Oh, really?" replied d'Artagnan, his left eyebrow raising to express all the irony he had put into the question. "Well, then, I'll tell you where I'm going. I'm going to Marseilles. If you're on the same route, I suggest we go together."
“I prefer to travel alone,” the young man replied.
“As you wish,” replied the captain, and rode off at a light trot to the west.
After riding two blocks, d'Artagnan rode onto the next street and turned his horse to the east and galloped, breaking into a gallop. After riding three blocks, the captain turned sharply to the right, toward the sea, after which he repeated his move, driving into a narrow, closed street and hiding.
After a while he again saw Auguste, who was riding behind him, and, having lost sight of the captain, he stopped in indecision, wondering where d'Artagnan could have disappeared to.
“So, young man, you do not wish to be frank with me,” said d’Artagnan, riding out from his hiding place. “I can act in one of the following ways. First, I believe that you are violating my right to travel without spies, so I can challenge you to a duel and, of course, kill you. Second, I can break away from you, confusing the tracks. Third, I can ignore your impudence. I do not like any of these options, and besides, I am in a hurry. Therefore, I choose the fourth option. We will fight here and now, immediately, without dismounting from our horses. Defend yourself, insolent man!”
After these words, d'Artagnan spurred his horse, directing it towards Auguste. The young man barely managed to snatch his sword and point it towards d'Artagnan. The captain rode past, deftly dodged Auguste's sword and knocked his hat off with his own sword.
“This is the first time I have pitied you, young man,” said d’Artagnan, “defend yourself better.”
Repeating his maneuver, he knocked the sword out of Auguste's hands.
Then he jumped off his horse, threw the vanquished man's sword up with the toe of his boot and held it out to Auguste, hilt first.
"I have twice failed to take the opportunity to kill you, young spy, but now we will fight in earnest and on foot. Dismount and show me that you are a man," he said.
Auguste jumped off his horse, took his sword and immediately tried to use it against d'Artagnan.
"No, that won't do," said d'Artagnan, parrying Auguste's blows with ease. "Piercing you would be like skewering a chicken."
After these words, he again knocked the sword out of Auguste's hands and stepped on it with his foot.
“Young man, you are my prisoner, I demand that you state your name and the purpose of your spying on me,” he said.
"My name is Auguste de Trabu;on," the young man replied. "You are responsible for the disappearance of my parents, and I intend to find out where they are, take revenge on you, and free them."
“Well,” replied d’Artagnan. “You have every right. I take your sword. If you try to spy on me again or prevent me from carrying out the King’s orders, I will take your life. Believe me, I do not wish to do this, but you leave me no choice.”
"May you be damned!" cried Auguste.
"As much as you like," replied d'Artagnan and headed for the port. He decided to travel to Crete by sea.
After riding his horse a few steps, d'Artagnan heard the familiar sound of a musket being cocked. He quickly ducked down to his horse's neck and looked back. At that moment, a shot rang out, the bullet whistling right over the captain's head.
"Is that so?" exclaimed the captain. "You just won't calm down, I see! Well, if you want to travel with me so much, I'll take you."
After this, d'Artagnan rode up to Auguste and grabbed his horse by the bridle.
"I take you prisoner, and you will come with me," he said. "I advise you not to resist. I will not spare you, for you have already taken up too much time, and I am in a great hurry. Pray that this delay will not prove fatal to my friends."
After this, d'Artagnan sold his second horse, as well as Auguste's horse.
“This money will pay your travel expenses, Monsieur Auguste de Trabuson,” he said to his prisoner.
That same evening, d'Artagnan sailed to Crete on a hired fast vessel. He placed his prisoner in a separate cabin and hired a special sailor to look after him, under no circumstances allowing him to escape from the cabin assigned to him.

C XXX. Hope

After Porthos had pulled out the bricks from the floor in the corner between the outer wall and the wall of the neighboring chamber and had begun to dig furiously, he had dug two cubits deep and was ready to dig further as long as he had strength. In order to be able to descend into the pit more easily and get out of it, he intended to make several steps on the side opposite to that wall, which was also the outer wall of the fortress. He hoped that the wall would soon end, after which there would perhaps be an undercut made by the Turks during the siege. Since he was digging in the corner adjacent to the neighboring chamber, he dug only one cubit deep and found that the outer wall had ended and that there was ordinary soil underneath. At first he did not attach any importance to this, but nevertheless decided to inform Athos about it.
“Athos,” he said, “if we need to get into the next cell, we can easily do so, since the wall does not go deep into the ground.
"Perhaps it is an easier way, and perhaps it is a waste of time," replied Athos. "We heard no sounds from this cell, which suggests that it is empty. Perhaps the Turks lock empty cells, and then it will be of no use to us at all."
“It’s possible that we won’t find any traces of the Turks’ digging under the wall, or it’s possible that the wall goes very deep,” Porthos sighed. “The chances are not great either way.”
"You're right, Porthos, we need to see what we can do with what we already have," Athos agreed. "I don't really expect to find a keg of gunpowder under the outer wall either, that would be too much luck, but it's better than doing nothing."
The friends continued digging under the wall of the neighboring chamber and soon a passage formed under it.
"Be careful when you take out the earth, Porthos," Athos warned. "If there's a brick floor like that there, it might collapse on you."
Acting carefully, the friends were finally able to penetrate into the next room. It was the same cell, but not doubled.
"At least our home will be one and a half times more spacious," Athos said. "It seems much lighter here."
Indeed, if in the double cell into which Athos and Porthos were thrown, the only source of light was a small, brick-wide vent under the very ceiling, then in this cell there was a small window with bars.
Carefully peering into it, Porthos saw the inner courtyard of the fortress.
"At least they don't know we're here," said Athos. "Check the doors carefully, maybe we'll be lucky and they'll be unlocked."
The doors were locked.
"What do you think of the bars on the window, Porthos?" asked Athos.
“I think I can handle it, but these bars will be thicker than the ones in the casemate where the vile Mazarin locked me and d’Artagnan,” answered Porthos. “There were separate bars set into the stonework, but this is a forged bar. It must be torn out in one piece. It is fastened with eight nails, each as thick as my finger. If I can pry them loose and pull them out one by one, the bar can then be torn out. But if I can’t knock, that complicates things. It will be easier to rip out the hinges on the door. The doors behind which we were locked are locked with two locks and a bolt, but this cell is empty, it is locked with only one bolt. If I press hard enough, it will give in. After all, I have a pretty good master key,” with these words Porthos pointed to the straightened door hinge.
“How long will this matter take you, Porthos?” asked Athos.
“I think three or four minutes,” the giant replied.
“Then I propose this plan,” Athos replied. “When they bring us food, which will be in an hour, I will start making a fuss, and you must remain in this cell. I hope they will enter the cell to calm me down. I expect to hold out for at least ten minutes, however long that may be. In that time, you will break down this door and attack them from behind. That gives us a good chance.”
"With this thing, they'll get it from me!" Porthos grinned, stroking the steel plate.

CXXXI. Duchess

The Duchess de Chevreuse was playing solitaire, but her thoughts were elsewhere. She was wondering whether the Comte de la F;re would escape the trap. The fate of the Duc de Beaufort did not concern her in the least. Suddenly she heard a knock at her door. As the Duchess preferred solitude at this time of day, her servants had been sent away, so she had to open the door herself. The Duchess was not in the habit of locking herself in, for she had a certain fatalism, realizing that if she had enemies, they were those who would not be stopped by any locked door. The man who knocked at the door probably realized that it was not locked, but for reasons of delicacy did not dare to enter, from which the Duchess concluded that it was a man. Since the only man who could cause trouble to the Duchess, Cardinal Richelieu, had long since passed away, however, the Duchess had not been in the least afraid of him when he was alive. So she boldly opened the door. Before her stood a man whom she definitely knew, but whom she could not have expected to see in such a state.
It was King Louis XIV of France. But he looked nothing like himself. He was dressed like a simple monk, his unshaven face was covered with a beard, his hair was short and tousled. By all appearances it was clear that he had come from a long and difficult journey.
"Your Majesty!" cried the Duchess. "Is that you? What's the matter with you?"
"Duchess, it is I, of course," replied Louis. "I believe that you are one of the few people initiated into my mother's secret."
“I am privy to many of your mother’s secrets,” replied the Duchess, “but I do not understand what secret you are talking about, or how this secret is connected with your appearance.”
"I speak of the mystery of the two twins, one of whom stands before you, and the other takes his place on the throne!" replied Louis. "Let me enter!"
- My God! - cried the Duchess. - Come in, Your Majesty, come in! Forgive my confusion! I am at your service.
"So you knew," said Louis, entering and closing the doors. "Well, I guessed it."
"But I did not know that you were also initiated into this secret!" exclaimed the Duchess. "This circumstance was carefully concealed from everyone, even from you."
"And you, of course, had no idea that I had been kidnapped and that an impostor had been installed in my place?" Louis asked with a hint of distrust.
"How could I have known about it?" the Duchess clasped her hands. "I had no idea that you were so similar that no one could tell the difference! I thought that the poor prince, at any rate, would not have been able to behave so naturally that even he, forgive me, even your wife, apparently, did not suspect anything.
"His wife?" Louis exclaimed angrily. "So he became close to her?"
"I can't know anything about it," lied the Duchess. "Outwardly, everything is quite decent. I suppose they didn't have the kind of intimacy you mean. He probably pretended to cool off toward her."
- However, it doesn't matter. This marriage was political and I don't care about the Queen anymore, - the King waved it off, unsuccessfully trying to deceive both himself and the Duchess. - Mademoiselle de La Valli;re?
“She’s in the monastery,” the Duchess answered.
"I will bring her back!" Louis cried. "But first you must help me get back."
“At my disposal, Your Majesty,” the Duchess bowed.
"I need to get myself in order," answered the King. "I need a barber, a hairdresser, a tailor."
“You have found all this in me, Your Majesty,” the Duchess replied. “We must prepare your entrance on stage without unnecessary witnesses. Any barber would be an unnecessary witness, especially here in the Louvre. Believe me, I know how to shave men and I can trim your moustache and beard the way you have always worn them. You will not need a barber, since I will select a wig for you. As for men’s clothing, I have sometimes had to dress up as a man, and if we do not find anything in my wardrobe, tomorrow I will order a men’s suit for myself to your taste. Our figures are approximately the same height and size.
- Ah, Duchess, you are gold, you are an angel! - exclaimed Louis. - First I must restore my royal appearance, after that we will think of a plan to return what was basely taken from me. Should I not enlist the help of my mother?
“Your mother, Your Majesty, and my closest friend, left this world two months ago,” the Duchess said mournfully.
“I didn’t know that,” Louis said sadly. “I will miss her. Sometimes she tried to limit me, I even got angry with her, but she is my mother, and I have always not only known it, but also felt it. God rest her soul and take her into your arms!”
“We will pray for her together, Your Majesty,” the Duchess continued and risked embracing the King, which he did not resist. “And now I will prepare shaving accessories and hot water.”
“You mean to say that you have shaving accessories?” asked the surprised Louis.
"Yes, that's true," replied the Duchess, "but don't ask me why I need them, I won't tell you anyway. And what are those two stripes on your forehead, Your Majesty?"
"These marks are the result of a villainous attempt on my life," Louis replied. "Are they very noticeable?"
"Only if I look at you as I do now," replied the Duchess. "It seems that in time there will be no trace of them left, but for the time being we will hide them under a layer of powder, and comb a few curls from the wig over your forehead. But that will be later; now allow me to shave you."
“I hope you have a suitable suit in your wardrobe, otherwise you will have to shave me again after your tailor has finished his work,” said Louis.
“I suppose I shall be able to get hold of some suit from your wardrobe tomorrow, Your Majesty, but don’t ask me how,” the Duchess answered slyly.

C XXX II. Rochefort

Meanwhile, Rochefort tried to persuade the commandant of the fortress-port of Gramvouse to enter into negotiations with the commandant of the fortress of Candia and achieve the return of Athos and Porthos.
"We are not at war with the Ottoman Empire, and thank God for that!" the commandant objected. "Your friends should not have come to the shore controlled by the fortress of Candia, and, even more so, should not have voluntarily entered this fortress. If the Turks detained them, that is their business. I sympathize with you completely, but our forces are such that we are only glad that it does not occur to the Turks to drive us off the island.
"Is it really that bad?" asked Rochefort.
"A certain parity has been established in our confrontation, and if we proposed an exchange of prisoners, I believe the negotiations could be successful," the commandant replied. "But we cannot demand unilateral concessions. They will not understand us."
"Perhaps we can return them by paying a ransom?" asked Rochefort.
"That's quite possible," the commandant agreed. "I believe that a corresponding offer has already been sent from them to the mainland. But the Turks are greedy; for two noblemen they can demand such a ransom that it will be difficult for you to raise it."
“As far as I know, one of these nobles is quite rich,” Rochefort replied. “Although due to certain circumstances, it will be difficult to take advantage of this wealth.”
“But this is probably the only way for them to return to France,” the commandant replied.
“Why am I so worried about these two people?” asked the Count de Rochefort. “These people were my enemies. They managed to spoil my career under Cardinal Richelieu! And d’Artagnan almost killed me three times in duels. Some inexorable fate connected me with them, especially with d’Artagnan. The first time I saw him, he was still only on his way to Paris, while I was already the confidant of the great cardinal. I cannot say that these people ever did anything kind or good for me. I cannot say either that they delighted me with their excessive intelligence or that I could envy them. On the contrary, I was always surprised at how insignificant the career of each of them was in comparison with what they could count on by birthright, by intelligence, by enterprise. All their activity, energy, enterprise, courage and dexterity were directed towards achieving goals that I would call insignificant. Nothing for themselves, everything for others! And they infected me with their oddities! Let's say I helped the Duke de Beaufort escape from the fortress out of a sense of revenge, I wanted to prove to Cardinal Mazarin that he had completely in vain neglected me, wrote me off as a person insignificant and incapable of anything else. And he even ordered me to be put back in prison! And if you think about it, why did I end up there? For loyalty to Cardinal Richelieu! The Queen, having come to power after the death of the Cardinal and the King, decided to get rid of all her former enemies. But later she brought closer to the person closest in spirit to Richelieu, his ideological heir, Cardinal Mazarin. She forgave many of her former enemies, many of her former friends, such as the Duchess de Chevreuse and the Duke de La Rochefoucauld, she distanced herself from. But I was never an enemy of the Queen, I was only a faithful servant of Cardinal Richelieu, the first minister of France, the closest friend and loyal adviser of the King! Can such service be blamed? Life was unfair to me. I was orphaned early, my mother died, my father married another, with whom he had nine children. I helped them all as best I could, as an older brother, but no one helped me. I have never seen an example of friendship such as that of these four. I was simply bound by duties both to my family and to the King and the Cardinal. And now, when I can devote myself only to myself, for some incomprehensible reason I worry about these people, help them as best I can, and even hope to save them. Why? God knows! I just want to. And I will try to do everything I can for them. But, looking at these four, I think again and again that they do not need my help at all, and even less so - my advice, my care. I am free, but I am capable of little, they are constantly constrained in time, in their actions, and sometimes even in some moral circumstances, but they seem to be capable of everything. Absolutely everything. Amazing people! Really, it's a pity that no one will ever know the whole story of their lives. It would be appropriate to write novels about such people, but their actions remain a secret from everyone, and no writer will ever know all the circumstances of their lives."

CXXXIII. The Hostage

Athos and Porthos acted according to a previously agreed plan. Porthos, armed with a metal plate, was waiting for a sign to begin breaking down the door, and Athos, armed with another plate, wrapped his hand in a belt and prepared to use it as a cleaver, although not sharp, but weighty enough so that with a certain amount of dexterity he could even withstand the attacker's sword. In his left hand he took one of the bricks that had been torn out of the floor.
When the guard opened the door with the words "Dinner!" and entered with two plates in his hands, Athos knocked him to the floor with a brick and dragged the unconscious poor fellow into the cell.
- Outrageous! - he exclaimed as loudly as he could. - Not only have we been detained illegally, but they are also feeding us all sorts of crap that a real nobleman and Catholic would be ashamed to put in his mouth! I demand the commandant! Bring the commandant here immediately!
At Athos's cries, two other guards on duty in the casemate corridor hurried into the cell, sending a third after the officer. Athos fought off two guards, using the door as a shield, but since the guards had curved Turkish swords in their hands, the forces were not equal. The only saving grace was that it was very inconvenient for two guards to fight simultaneously in the narrow doorway.
At that moment, Porthos began to break down the door of the neighboring cell. A minute later, the door gave way, and Porthos attacked the guards from behind. The guards, not expecting such an attack, were seriously injured, after which they immediately surrendered. Porthos disarmed them, dragged them into the cell and tied them both with their own belts, and stuffed their Turkish caps into their mouths as a gag. After that, the friends, armed with Turkish swords, headed for the exit from the trench, which served as a casemate.
“We must capture the commandant, I know a shortcut, follow me, Porthos!” Athos exclaimed.
Crushing the confused Turkish soldiers on their way, Athos and Porthos burst into the office of the fortress commandant. Fortunately, the commandant was in his room at that moment, where he had started to have dinner.
"Don't move, you're our prisoner!" cried Athos. "If you don't resist, you'll stay alive."
“I surrender,” replied the commandant, who understood French.
However, even if he had tried to pretend that he did not understand French, the sight of two enraged Frenchmen armed with Turkish sabres spoke for itself. An attempt to use the weapons in the office would have been doomed to failure.
Thus, Athos and Porthos became the owners of a high-ranking prisoner and his very significant arsenal.
Porthos slid the thick iron bolt on the door of the commandant's office and allowed himself to rest.
"Mr. Commandant," said Athos, smiling as he looked at the table, which was generously laden with food. "Don't interrupt your dinner. By the way, Isaac and I are also hungry, since we had to skip our dinner."
“Please help yourself,” the commandant stammered.
“With your permission, I will put the knives and forks away, out of harm’s way,” said Porthos and extended his huge open palm to the commandant, on which the commandant tremblingly placed the table knife and fork.
“Bonapeti, sir,” said Athos.
“Thank you,” the commandant replied in a muffled voice, lowering his face almost to the plate.
"It is necessary to know the table companions by name," Athos continued. "You probably know our names. I am the Comte de La F;re, my friend is Isaac Barbier, and how should I address you, sir commandant?"
“I am Ahmed Pasha,” the commandant replied.
- Ahmed Pasha? - exclaimed Athos. - That same Ahmed Celik? So it was your dear wife Olivia Celik who lured us here by deception? Our close acquaintance is very opportune!
"Quite opportune," confirmed Porthos, putting a huge piece of baklava into his mouth. "Your cook deserves all the praise! Try the halva, Athos!"
“I don’t eat sweets,” Athos smiled.
“Let me assure you, gentlemen, that I did not support Olivia’s idea,” said Ahmed Pasha.
“I think so, dear Commandant, especially in this part of her letter,” replied Athos. “You read French, I hope?”
“Yes, I read,” confirmed Ahmed Pasha.
“Then read this letter,” said Athos, and handed Olivia’s letter to the commandant.

CXXXIV. King

Philippe returned from a picnic which had been given in the open air for the amusement of the court. At this picnic Princess Henrietta had behaved as the Queen, while the real Queen had refused to participate, citing a headache.
The party was fun, except for one incident. The princess, flushed from active games, flirting and warmed by Philip's compliments, feeling her upcoming rise with all her soul, felt thirsty and asked for a cold drink. Probably the servants overdid it with the ice, because after a fair portion of the icy drink the princess suddenly felt chills and general weakness. She asked permission to go to her room, after which the party ended early.
The heart of the Princess of Monaco was filled with mixed feelings. She was still in favor, Philippe showed her much attention, but she noticed that gradually all his attention was switching to the princess. Perhaps it was because the princess was listed only as the princess's maid of honor, which, against her will, placed her significantly below Henrietta. The princess made excellent use of her position, realizing that even the princess's mood was in her power. Giving reasons for small joys in Philippe's absence and inflicting imperceptible jabs on the princess in Philippe's presence, she gradually influenced his attitude towards her, and when left alone with Philippe, she drew his attention to the fact that the princess showed much more liveliness when Philippe was not around than in his presence. This gave birth to the poison of jealousy in Philippe's heart, which gradually took possession of his entire heart. In this way, the princess gradually strengthened her influence on Philippe.
Returning to his study early, Philippe received news from Hubert that two messengers had arrived from Captain d'Artagnan, who had an important message for the King.
“Where is this message?” Philip asked.
“They claim that the message is oral,” Hubert replied.
“Well, go ahead,” sighed Philip, who was worried about Princess Henrietta’s health.
"Your Majesty, Captain d'Artagnan asked me to convey to you an important message in words," said de Sigal. "Here are the words: 'Marciali has fled, danger to the Duke-Bishop and his friend F.'
“And you, monsieur, have you arrived with what message?” Philip asked the second musketeer.
"Exactly the same thing," replied de Parisot. "The captain wanted to write it down at first, then changed his mind and made us learn the phrase by heart, after which he ordered us to return to the Louvre by different roads."
- Thank you, gentlemen! - answered Philip. - Your service is extremely important, I will arrange for you to be rewarded appropriately. You are free.
De Sigal and de Parisot bowed and left.
“So my brother has escaped!” thought Philippe. “How is this possible? Has de Cinq-Mars, who guarded me so closely, made a mistake? If there had been the slightest chance of escape, I would have seized it! Either d’Artagnan has betrayed me, or de Cinq-Mars is a traitor, or some other people who are in league with de Cinq- Mars are privy to this terrible secret! I must find out! But if d’Artagnan is a traitor, why should he warn me? That is out of the question! D’Artagnan warned me of Louis’s escape, therefore he cannot be a traitor either. The Duke-Bishop is certainly d’Herblay. And “F” is me, Philippe. It is certainly not Fouquet, what business should I have with Fouquet? Surely d’Artagnan could not have told the Musketeers that the King was in danger!” "He did not risk writing a letter, therefore he is afraid of spies who could intercept it. Therefore he knows that someone else is involved in this escape. And who could it be? De Saint-Mars wrote that d'Epernon, sent by Colbert, came to the fortress. Therefore, de Saint-Mars cannot be a traitor. So, Monsieur Colbert got wind of something, and he did not send d'Epernon out of simple curiosity, he knew that Louis was hiding under the guise of Marchiali!"
Philippe glanced at his watch. In two hours Colbert was due to report on his affairs and sign various orders and instructions.
"Well, let's wait!" Philip decided. "Two hours won't change anything. I won't call him ahead of time, that will allow me to catch him off guard and find out the truth!"
Philippe rang the bell. He said to Hubert, who came in :
- Hubert, where is the Duke d'Alameda now?
“I’ll find out, Your Majesty,” Hubert replied. “Shall I invite him?”
“Yes, my dear,” Philip replied.

Half an hour later, Aramis came to see Philippe.
“Your Majesty,” Aramis bowed.
"Duke," Philip nodded. "I am glad to see you in good health. But do you know what message I received from your friend Captain d'Artagnan?"
"What message?" asked Aramis.
"Marciali fled," Philip replied. "Do you understand?"
“I understand, Your Majesty,” Aramis replied. “How long ago?”
"The musketeers sent by the captain were coming here from the town of Cannes, so they came by the same route. The fugitive may already be in Paris," Philippe replied.
“Well, I will take action,” replied Aramis. “Do you suspect someone of complicity?”
“Colbert and d’Epernon,” answered Philippe.
“I told you, Your Majesty,” said Aramis. “Colbert must be dismissed, Fouquet must be restored to his former position, and I must be a permanent adviser.”
- Your Fouquet has ruined everything! - Philippe answered discontentedly. - You, Monsieur le Duc, disappeared, I was thrown back into the Bastille, and then into the fortress on the island of Saint-Marguerite! It is simply impossible to escape from there! If it were not for Monsieur d'Artagnan, I would have stayed there!
"Monsieur d'Artagnan has acted most nobly!" agreed Aramis. "But he is not here. I believe he is in Crete, but will soon return."
"So, lord duke, what do you propose to do to get Marchiali back?" asked Philip. "Should we issue a search warrant?"
“It’s impossible to put a man with such an appearance on the wanted list,” Aramis objected.
“Then what?” asked Philip.
" To strengthen your guard and that of the palace enormously," replied Aramis. "No strangers are to be admitted to the palace without special permission."

CXXXV. Friends

Ahmed Pasha read the letter and then addressed the French who had captured him.
“You don’t need to hold me hostage, I will let you go back, I give you my word as Ahmed Pasha.”
"I understand that you have reasons to trust us and to set us free," said Athos. "But we have reasons to distrust the promises of your countrymen."
Ahmed Pasha's eyes flashed with the anger of insulted honor, but a second later he pulled himself together.
“I apologize for my countrymen, who are also my people,” he said. “We use military cunning to capture the enemy. The act this woman committed against you does not concern me. She was not your friend, your ally, or your partner. She was your enemy. In that case, only you Europeans call such acts treason. We call it military cunning. We call treason only meanness toward someone you call your friend to his face. She called me her husband, she betrayed me in this letter, calling him her husband, from whom she separated, as she told me, of her own free will. In our Ottoman Empire, spouses can cease to be spouses by mutual consent. She voluntarily renounced him, he cursed her. He is now a eunuch, my servant, she is my wife. She was so until this moment. Now I divorce her. And I see no reason to help her in matters of her injured dignity, in those matters which were for her a way to escape from me back to your worthless France. Let me call her here, you will see for yourself how I intend to treat her.
— To begin with, as a demonstration of your good intentions, order our swords to be brought here, which were taken from us, but which they promised to return when we leave your not entirely hospitable fortress.
"The food is no good, the bed is hard, if a stone bed can be called a bed!" added Porthos. "We are not accustomed to staying long in such inhospitable hotels. We are leaving your fortress, and therefore we are taking our swords!"
"Olivia took your swords, and if I'm not mistaken, she sent them to France," Ahmed Pasha replied. "I'll give you others that are no worse."
"We will not accept this gift," replied Athos. "But we intend to leave your fortress with our swords. When we are free, you will throw them into the sea."
“You will not do this, since I will give them to you as a gift, and the gifts of Ahmed Pasha must be treated with respect,” Ahmed Pasha objected. “Besides, you do not know what swords we are talking about. I will give you two swords of French officers. I hope you will not refuse to accept these war trophies so that they can return to your homeland.”
"We will not refuse this, and I thank you, Mr. Ahmed Pasha," said Athos. "Your words prove your nobility, from this moment you are free, we rely on your word."
Ahmed Pasha shouted to his men to bring his fourth wife Olivia to him.
Five minutes later, Olivia entered the commandant's room.
Ahmed Pasha launched into an angry tirade in Turkish.
Olivia answered something in Turkish, but completely calmly.
Then Ahmed Pasha took the letter from the table and began to read it aloud in French:

 “In the Ottoman Empire they know how to execute slowly and painfully, and my new husband, Ahmed Celik, aka Ahmed Pasha, will do for me, his beloved wife, what I ask of him.”

- Well, it's true, we know how to do it! - said Ahmed Pasha. - You will soon be able to see for yourself that your words are true! And you wrote this too!

After this he began to read the following text:

"I do not intend to remain one of the four wives of some Turk, even a Pasha, for the rest of my life. I want to return to Paris in triumph. I demand a colonel's patent for my husband and eight hundred thousand livres for myself.
Olivia Celik, aka Olivia de Trabu;on.
"Written in the fortress of Candia on the island of Crete."
- You called that miserable eunuch your husband! - Ahmed Pasha exclaimed. - You called yourself Olivia Celik and then you called yourself Olivia de Trabu;on! You called me some miserable Turk! You want to return to Paris in triumph! You will return to Paris. But not in triumph.
At that moment, Olivia jumped up to Ahmed Pasha and put a dagger, which she snatched from her belt, to his throat.
"You are my hostage!" she hissed like a snake. "One more word and you will be dead."
“I am not afraid of death,” Ahmed Pasha replied. “I submitted to these two Frenchmen only to understand what they wanted. If they had demanded of me something I did not like, I would have preferred death. You can kill me. But then you will be treated in such a way that you will beg for death. For hours, even for days. Come on, why are you hesitating? Kill me, and your painful death will last three days!”
At that very moment there was a knock at the door. Then the man who knocked said something in Turkish. Ahmed Pasha asked something, and was given an answer. Olivia put away the dagger and threw it away in despair.

"Someone sent a message that Olivia's son Auguste is being held captive and is being offered in exchange for you!" said Ahmed Pasha in French.
"My dear husband, I beg you, let them go!" Olivia said.
"Go away, woman," said Ahmed Pasha with contempt. "Gentlemen of the French, you are free. Now they will bring you two swords, and besides, a special gift from me."
Athos and Porthos received their swords and, without even looking at them, went to the shore, where a barge was waiting for them, which was supposed to take them to the opposite bank.

“You have arranged all this magnificently, d’Artagnan!” said Athos when the friends arrived at the port of Gramvouse.
"After Count Rochefort told me that the letter was written by Olivia de Trabu;on, it was not difficult to guess the rest," replied d'Artagnan. "The lady's husband was plotting against me and preventing me from carrying out the sovereign's orders, and the little son was following me so persistently that I had to capture him after he tried to shoot me in the back."
- Well, one family! - agreed Porthos. - And they all have the same malice.
"Their mother is the center of evil and meanness," d'Artagnan replied. "The husband is henpecked, the son is still young, but already spoiled. A budding scoundrel. If a man shoots in the back in his youth, in old age he will be capable of any evil."
"The information about the Duke of Beaufort turned out to be a fabrication," said Athos. "Where next, friends?"
- To Paris, friends! - answered d'Artagnan. - Aramis is in great danger!
“To Paris!” cried Athos and Porthos in unison.
- As for me, gentlemen, I inform you that Charles- C;sar de Rochefort is leaving for Orleans, and from there to his county of Rochefort. I am fed up with politics!
"Which ship shall we prefer, gentlemen?" asked Athos.
"The ship I arrived on, the Marlin, is one of the fastest here in the Mediterranean," replied d'Artagnan. "Perhaps it is not as comfortable as your Walrus, but..."
"We're going on the Marlin!" Athos replied.
" But if there isn't enough food and wine on it," Porthos noted, "then we should take supplies from the Walrus. Just no octopuses, shrimps, crabs, or any seafood at all!"
An hour later, the Marlin was already cutting through the waves of the Mediterranean Sea, carrying our heroes to the shores of France.
“Look at this sword that Ahmed Pasha has given us!” said Porthos, who unwrapped the bundle of swords that had been handed to them on behalf of the commandant of the fortress.
Athos carefully took one of the swords, the most expensive and beautiful.
"The sword of the Duke of Beaufort," he said. "I have heard that it was broken during his sortie. But the Turks have made a new blade for it, and a most excellent one! Well, if we have not brought back the Duke himself to France, we have brought back his sword, and therefore his valor, his courage, and his honor with it."

CXXXVI. Vicomte de Bragelonne 

Raoul, as our dear readers will remember, has left for England, where at the court of King Charles II he would like to meet Miss Mary Grafton again. Let us look into his room and read the letter he has just written before he seals it.

“Dear Father! I hasten to share my happiness. Miss Mary Grafton confessed to me today that she feels for me the same feelings that I think I find in myself. Even on my first visit I noted the high qualities of her soul, as well as the extraordinary beauty of her face and figure. But since my thoughts were only about Louise, I ordered myself not to see and not to notice all her virtues. Despite my coldness, even then Miss Mary singled me out from all her acquaintances and was extremely kind to me. Recalling now how I behaved with her, I think that my emphasized coldness exceeded the boundaries of decency and only such a kind girl as Miss Mary could forgive me my extreme aloofness and absent-mindedness in conversations with her. We discussed a thousand topics and on each issue raised Miss Mary showed extraordinary prudence. She herself explains her erudition by her extreme erudition, but I believe that reading alone could not have created such an angel in a female form, and here, undoubtedly, the nature of her noble origin has played its part. It is not for nothing that they say in the East that a donkey loaded with books is not yet a sage. Therefore, I cannot attribute her deep intelligence to books alone. Father! She frowns so charmingly when she condemns those who certainly deserve it, and smiles so sweetly when she speaks of those she loves, that I never cease to admire her face and throw her more and more new topics for conversation, in order to once again be amazed by her intelligence and enjoy the play of emotions on her face.
Here in England everyone is talking about the imminent war between France and Holland, and it is said that England could become France's ally, provided the French fleet is sufficiently active and victorious in the first weeks of battle. That means war again! Well, it is not fitting for me, an officer, to sit back in the rear. I have decided to become a naval officer. I have already acquired some skills during the naval campaigns under the Duke of Beaufort. I asked the Duke of Albemanle, who enrolled me as a junior mate on the ship "Swift". The Duke suggested that I choose a name in the English manner, and now your son is called Raoul Butts. I hope that you will soon hear of the exploits of Captain Butts, dear father!
Don't blame me for changing my name. Firstly, I am listed as dead in France. Secondly, I myself would like to break my ties with a country where the King does not disdain to steal brides from his subjects, so I would like to become an English subject. Thirdly, Miss Mary... However, I will not propose to her until I have covered myself with the glory of a brave naval officer.
The sad news has reached me of the tragic death of your friend, the Baron du Valon, because the Baron has named me his heir. This is a great misfortune for us all, and of course, you, my dear father, will be the hardest to bear this tragic loss. I will not have to enter into my inheritance. Fortunately, when I went to war with the Duke de Beaufort, I wrote my will, had it certified by a notary and left it with Grimaud. In it I leave all my property, if there is any, to you, dear father, and in the event that I survive you, I leave everything to your friend d'Artagnan. Since you and I, father, are considered dead, as the commandant of the fortress of Candia has drawn up documents to this effect, I do not intend to be resurrected, and prefer to remain in the eyes of all the French in the status that fate has granted me. Only my dear mother, Madame the Duchess de Chevreuse, and also you and two or three most faithful friends will know the truth. Therefore, Monsieur d'Artagnan may enter into the rights of inheritance of my small inheritance, as well as the enormous inheritance of the poor Baron du Valon. It is a great pity that Captain d'Artagnan has no children and no one to bequeath this inheritance to. I would not like it to go to the treasury. However, perhaps he has some distant relatives. I have heard that he has at least three nephews. This inheritance does not interest me at all. I want to provide for my own life, and the salary of a naval officer suits me perfectly. I embrace you warmly, Raoul Bats de Bragelonne, who loves you dearly, and who, I hope, will soon be able to sign his letters with his new name, Captain Bats."

CXXXVII. Plans for the Future 

While sailing, the friends shared memories and plans for the future.
— Do you know that I am extremely comfortable sailing in the company of two dead men, you, Porthos, and you, Athos! — said d'Artagnan. — I am extremely glad that you perished only on paper, and the devil take me if I do not envy you! How I would also like to disappear from high politics, to get away from all this court camarilla! Now a new war is brewing with Holland. Personally, Holland has done nothing to me, I find this expedition superfluous.
“I am ready to admit that you are right, d’Artagnan,” said Athos. “The state in which everyone considers you dead is nothing new to me. You know that in my youth I abandoned my county and retired as a simple musketeer. Thus the Count de la F;re disappeared from the face of the earth and the musketeer Athos appeared. But the fate of a man who does not value his life, who endures hunger, cold and poverty and exposes his chest to swords and bullets for the sake of some bright ideals of protecting the King, Queen, numerous princes and dukes, all this very quickly begins to seem petty, pitiful, insignificant. The meaning of life is not in war, my friend. The meaning of life is in life itself. And when I realized this, the Count de la F;re was resurrected, and Athos died. But I sometimes missed the life of Athos. That is how a person is made, he is always burdened by what he has, and wants to have what he never had, and even more - what he had, but lost. However, the false courtly splendor and its true moral emptiness and feeblemindedness will make any person a skeptic. And since I stopped being an optimist after the events known to you, I got tired of it much earlier than I should have. Solitude in Blois was brightened only by concerns about young Raoul. Now, when paternal guardianship could only harm him, I became of no use to anyone, not even to myself.
"Athos, we need you!" cried Porthos.
- Count, don't say that! - d'Artagnan supported Porthos. - Our foursome is strong thanks to your participation in it! You have always been and will be our conscience and honor, stay the way you are!
“Thank you, friends, thank you, but I live for you, and I live for you, I am different…” with these words, Athos waved his hand contemptuously.
"As for me," replied Porthos, "I cannot say that I particularly like being dead, but I prefer this calm and relaxation to the situation when the King sent an entire army after me and Aramis. I would rather never set foot on Pierrefonds than again make a long reconnaissance in order to take a more strategic position and avoid being surrounded and subsequently captured. By the way, d'Artagnan, what method of death do you prefer?"
“I read a little book about the Russian Tsar Ivan,” replied d’Artagnan. “This Tsar had a servant who protected him from both internal and external enemies. His name was Grigory Skuratov, or, it seems, he even had a double surname – Lukyanovich-Skuratov. For some reason they nicknamed him Malyuta. Well, he died because he was hit by a cannonball during the siege of one of the fortresses. It seems to me that this was the best way out for him. He had to die before his Tsar, otherwise he would have been in trouble. Our glorious King, who hunted all my friends, paid for it, but now he is apparently planning to return. If he succeeds, I must disappear from France, and a cannonball would do just fine.”
"Contact Aramis!" Athos smiled. "He has agents who are excellent at faking death during battle. Raoul and I have seen this for ourselves, without even imagining such plans for our lives."
"Why go so far?" intervened Count Rochefort. "I think, gentlemen, that I have enough friends who could ensure that you die so gloriously, almost before the eyes of your subordinates, so that no one would suspect a trick. If you have one reliable person among the officers who will confirm your death, I will take care of the rest."
“Senior Lieutenant d’Arlencourt, I believe, could help me,” d’Artagnan said thoughtfully. “Do you think it is possible?”
“We’ll discuss the details later,” Rochefort replied. “For the sake of such a joke on the King, I’ll probably postpone my trip to Orleans!”
"Looks like our dead club is about to grow by one member?" Porthos chuckled. "We should drink to that! Do we have any Burgundy left?"
"You're joking, Porthos!" cried d'Artagnan. "We have Tokay for such an occasion!"

CXXXVIII. Aramis 

The Duchess de Chevreuse bolted the door, soaped Louis's cheeks and took up the razor. She had only managed to shave one of the King's cheeks when someone knocked very insistently on her door.
- Oh, you can't come to me! - exclaimed the Duchess. - I'm not dressed!
"What are you saying, Duchess!" Aramis's voice came from behind the door. "Do you think that will stop me? Open up, or I'll break down the doors!"
"Your Majesty, it's d'Herblay!" the Duchess whispered to Louis. "You must hide. Go to my boudoir."
“What if he looks in there?” Louis asked worriedly.
“Don’t worry, he won’t look there, I promise you that!” the Duchess answered firmly.
- Duchess, are you slow? I count to five and break down the doors! - Aramis growled. - One! Two! Three!
- Wait, Henri! Give me time to put at least something on myself! I'm coming! - the Duchess shouted and hurried to open the latch.
"Do you have him?" asked Aramis, looking carefully around the room.
- What do I see! - the Duchess exclaimed coquettishly. - Monsieur d'Herblay has finally become jealous of me! I would have been happy some thirty or twenty years ago, but now it is only childishness. However, it is very sweet! Such an unfamiliar feeling...
"Duchess, don't joke with me," said Aramis coldly. "You know who I'm looking for here."
“You can only look for me here,” laughed the Duchess, “but you stopped looking for me a long time ago.”
“If I had any doubts about the correctness of my guess, the bolted door and your confusion finally convinced me,” continued Aramis. “After all, you never locked the door.”
" I wasn't dressed, I told you!" the Duchess exclaimed.
"You didn't even know who was knocking," Aramis objected. "And it could have been only your maid. You wouldn't have opened the door for her either?"
"At my age it is very important that everyone should see me in the appropriate form," said the Duchess sharply. "No powder is necessary when you are young, but when you are already a little over thirty, the slightest sloppiness in rouge or powder is unacceptable."
“A little over thirty, Duchess?” Aramis asked ironically.
- Oh, don't quibble over words! - Maria waved her hand. - I'm just saying that even the maids shouldn't see me with a sloppy face.
“I must search your rooms, madam,” Aramis said firmly.
"Have you forgotten who you're dealing with?" the Duchess chuckled. "I never occupy rooms that don't have two exits. If I wanted to hide someone from you, I'd let them out of the second exit, and you still wouldn't find anyone."
“I didn’t take that into account,” Aramis replied with annoyance. “I should have placed my man at the second door.”
- Your man! - Maria mimicked. - Once I was your man, and now you are taking some action against me. How fickle men are!
“I won’t argue with you, Duchess, given your vast experience,” Aramis smiled.
"You are impudent, Henri!" the Duchess exclaimed coquettishly. "Oh, why do I always forgive you everything?"
"So, you had him, and he left you," Aramis summed up. "What did you agree on? However, if you are hiding the truth, then you are in cahoots with him."
“Tell me, finally, who are you talking about?” asked the Duchess.
“You understand me perfectly, Madame,” Aramis answered harshly. “I am speaking of the man who has destroyed the happiness of your son, Raoul de Bragelonne. I am speaking of the man who gave the order to arrest and execute him, your son, and also the father of this child of yours, the Comte de la F;re. You intend to help this man regain power so that he may complete what he failed to do, so that he may deal with me and Captain d’Artagnan. Is that what you want?”
“But… Did he… Really? I didn’t know anything…” the Duchess muttered.
“You knew everything, Duchess,” Aramis answered harshly and coldly. “You always know everything. You know everything you want to know, and you ignore what you don’t want to know. That’s you. You involved nobles, princes, dukes and kings in your intrigues, and you were never embarrassed by the fact that some of them paid with their freedom, and some with their heads. You walked, jokingly, over their heads. And now you are ready to destroy what was painstakingly and long created! You will help him regain his power in order to imprison his brother again, who has no less right to occupy this place, and who has spent his whole life in captivity!”
“This is your man’s way of looking at things, which may differ from a woman’s, because she has a heart in addition to her cold mind,” the Duchess exclaimed hotly.
"You meant instead of, not in addition to?" said Aramis sarcastically. "Is he so pitiful that he arouses your sympathy?"
“He is my King, and yours too, Henri,” the Duchess answered with fervor. “You have sworn allegiance to him!”
“Clergymen do not swear allegiance to the King,” Aramis objected.
“You swore allegiance to his father!” the Duchess objected.
"Yes, I swore allegiance to him as a musketeer, and I promised to be a faithful servant to his son as well," agreed Aramis. "Where do you see the inconsistency? Isn't that other one the son of the King to whom I swore allegiance?"
- Ah, do as you please, I will not interfere with it, - answered the Duchess. - You have seen that I have none, so leave me alone, I beg you. My head has begun to ache.
"I have warned you, Duchess," replied Aramis. "Do not get in my way, or I will crush you."
After these words, Aramis left the Duchess's room, slamming the door behind him.
"She can't be trusted in anything," thought Aramis. "She is so excited by the idea that the fate of France depends on her actions that she forgets everything else."
“If he saw the old Marie in me, if he called me Marie, if he asked for help, if he said the same words he said to me many years ago, I think I would do everything he asks,” thought the Duchess. “He demands, he tries to intimidate me, he does not see me as a person, I am a thing to him. I will not help him. And the Count de la F;re… After all, Louis considers him lost! Raoul has left France forever. D’Artagnan will be able to stand up for himself. Henri is afraid only for himself. And not so much for himself, as for his plans. Well, this argument is worthless to me.”
"Your Majesty, the danger has passed," said the Duchess, opening the doors to the boudoir. "Come out, and we will continue your shave."

Aramis immediately went to see Philippe after visiting the Duchess.
"Bad news, Your Majesty," he said to Philippe. "Louis is being hidden somewhere by the Duchess de Chevreuse. Have her watched, and remember that there are two entrances to her apartments. Trusted men should be posted to keep an eye on both of them. Sooner or later, he will come to her, and then we will take him."
- Oh, leave it alone! - exclaimed Philip. - I have no time for that now. Do you know that Princess Henrietta died today?
"It is terrible, Your Majesty," replied Aramis. "It could seriously antagonize France and England and have a negative effect on relations with Spain. A council of doctors should be called to reliably establish the causes of this misfortune and publish them widely. And yet, there are more important matters at present than to indulge in grief."
"There are more important matters, you say?" Philip cried mournfully. "What could be more important than the death of my sister-in-law, the wife of my younger brother?"
"The matter I am speaking of is more important!" replied Aramis. "Do not forget your other brother and the danger he represents to you!"
“You probably have no heart at all!” Philip exclaimed.
“This is the second person this evening who has called me heartless,” thought Aramis. “Philippe is a good man, and sentimental. But is sentimentality becoming to the true King of France? Perhaps I am trying in vain to defend him? Perhaps it is better to let events take their course? Should I listen to my mind, or should I listen to my heart this time?”

CXXXIX. On the ship 

The ship "Marlin" was already approaching the shores of France, when d'Artagnan decided to discuss the conflict that had arisen with his friends. Choosing a good moment, when Rochefort was carried away by a conversation with the captain, he put his finger to his lips and pointed with his eyes in the direction of Rochefort, after which he said in a low voice:
— We need to discuss something.
“We are listening,” Athos answered for himself and Porthos.
“You know, gentlemen, serious unrest may arise in Paris,” said d’Artagnan, “and I, your simple-minded and overly trusting Charles d’Artagnan, am the involuntary cause of this.”
"You said that Aramis was in danger," Athos reminded him. "Is that related to what you're talking about?"
"Very closely," the captain replied. "Remember his plan to replace Louis with his brother? I carried it out."
"In that case, Aramis escaped a serious danger," said Athos. "And what has happened now? Has the operation failed?"
"Yes and no," continued d'Artagnan. "As far as I can judge, nothing fatal has happened yet, but it may happen at any moment. The fact is that I did not have the courage to imprison the King in the fortress on the island of Saint-Marguerite, like a common criminal.
"You were always more noble than you wanted to appear, d'Artagnan," said Athos. "I understand you. And what did you do?"
“There is an abbey on the neighboring island, and I sent him there,” the captain replied. “I managed to convince the King that his chances of regaining the throne were slim. By chance he had received marks on his forehead, and I assured him that they would remain forever. But the marks were the result of only a slight injury to the most superficial layer of the skin, so I guessed that they would soon disappear. Apparently, that is what happened. Louis realized that his chance was not lost and fled from the abbey. I learned of this by chance, since I stopped there on my way to see His Majesty and find out if he needed anything. I was only a couple of days late. Louis is probably in Paris by now.”
"And you, knowing this, went to save us?" Porthos marveled. "But you should have gone after the King! If he regains his throne, he will send you to the Bastille."
"Oh, that is not at all necessary!" replied d'Artagnan. "It is very unlikely that the King will do so, you need not worry about that, my dear Porthos!"
"Well, then, all is well!" the baron answered joyfully. "If the Bastille is not threatening you, d'Artagnan, then you were absolutely right to rush to our rescue!"
"Porthos, he is in danger of being hanged!" Athos objected.
- Really? - Porthos was surprised. - D'Artagnan, is this what you meant when you said that the Bastille was not a threat to you?
"Exactly that," agreed the captain. "The best I can hope for is that the King will commute the hanging to beheading. I cannot say that I shall be extremely grateful to him for such a favour, though I suppose I ought to be grateful for that too."
“And you, knowing about such a danger, are hurrying to Paris?” asked Porthos.
“But Aramis is there,” replied d’Artagnan. “Can I leave him there alone?”
"Then all four of us will go to the scaffold," Athos said calmly. "It will be a worthy end to our lives and will glorify our friendship."
“Athos, I beg you, do not exaggerate the importance of fine gestures!” objected d’Artagnan, wincing. “I assure you, I will not be happier dangling from a rope with the knowledge that all my friends will be hanged next to me. I prefer a different course of events. Do not forget that you and Porthos are considered dead! These are our trump cards, we must make the most of them. And you propose to go and surrender to young Louis only because he may have intentions of eliminating two of us! As long as there are four of us, we will not be so easily erased from life!”
“But we both have already been crossed out,” Porthos smiled.
"That would be a good option for me," agreed d'Artagnan. "That's why I started talking about faking my death by cannonball. However, I also told the pure truth when I said that I was tired of being an officer at my beck and call, even if the King handed me a marshal's baton. So the circumstances I'm talking about only strengthen me in my decision."
"What about Aramis?" asked Porthos.
"I hope he enjoys the immunity of the Spanish ambassador," said d'Artagnan. "But that won't protect him from poison or from a robber attacking him from around the corner. In that case, the King would claim that he had nothing to do with it. So the only thing that really protects him is that the King needs him because France needs him, no matter who the King is, Philippe or Louis."
"You know, d'Artagnan, Louis's father very often neglected the interests of the state in the name of the interests of the family," said Athos. "Therefore, one can expect that his son will be able to neglect the interests of the state in the interests of his personal safety. Besides, one always wants to take revenge for an insult!"
- That's why we're hurrying to Paris! - answered the captain. - However, I warned Aramis in two messages, one of them will definitely get there.
“So our task is to capture Louis and put him in prison?” Porthos asked innocently.
“It appears so,” replied d’Artagnan, “but believe me, it is not easy to do.”
"Nonsense!" exclaimed Porthos. "The four of us can defeat thirty soldiers!"
“Well, firstly, there may be not three dozen of them, but three thousand,” objected d’Artagnan, “and secondly, I had in mind a difficulty of an entirely different kind.”
"What d'Artagnan means is that the decision to imprison the rightful King of France is a very difficult one," Athos explained. "Besides, there is always a choice."
“What choice?” asked Porthos.
“Either remove Louis, or try to come to an agreement with him and remove Philippe,” d’Artagnan explained.
“But Louis is our enemy, and Philippe is our friend!” exclaimed Porthos. “Or am I missing something?”
"That was the case when Louis wanted to starve me and Aramis to death," said d'Artagnan. "But times change, and people change too. Louis is no longer the same, and Philippe is no longer the same."
"Then we must choose a King under whom the four of us will be better off?" asked Porthos.
- Ah, my dear Porthos! - cried d'Artagnan. - If only all matters could always be resolved so simply!
"We must choose the King who will be the best King of France," Athos answered firmly. "Only then will we live on with a clear conscience."
“And what will happen to us if it turns out that Louis is better for France than Philippe?” asked Porthos.
“That, my friend, is no longer so important,” answered Athos with a smile.
- Yes, Athos, you are certainly right! - agreed d'Artagnan. - You are right, as always!
“But how do we know which King is best for France?” asked Porthos.
“If you don’t know what awaits you behind the door, open it,” replied d’Artagnan. “To Paris!”
“To Paris,” Athos agreed.
“To Paris, damn it!” exclaimed Porthos.

CXL. Louvre 

“Your Majesty,” Colbert said to Philippe, “it seems to me that it is necessary to conduct a thorough investigation into the causes of Princess Henrietta’s death.
“That’s already being done,” Philippe answered coldly, looking into Colbert’s face.
"Particular attention should be paid to the activities of the Chevalier de Lorraine," Colbert continued. "There are good reasons to suspect his involvement in this death."
- Suspect?! - exclaimed Philippe, who was only looking for a reason to quarrel with Colbert. - Can suspicions be the basis of legal proceedings? If you know something definite, speak up! If you know nothing, keep quiet!
“I am guided by these very principles, Your Majesty,” Colbert replied. “That is why I ask you to investigate so that we may know.”
- Colbert, leave de Lorraine alone! - exclaimed Philippe. - The Chevalier organizes the royal entertainments very well, and you seem to be irritated that I spend more time in his company than in yours! But you forget that although I am the King, I do not cease to be a man. I need rest, entertainment, fun, in the end!
"We must prepare for war, Your Majesty," Colbert reminded him. "Amusement can wait until complete victory."
- Until complete victory! - Philippe exclaimed. - How long will we have to wait? Do you know what it is to wait, Mr. Colbert? You know nothing about it. But I know! Yes, yes, I know what it is to wait! To wait when you have no hope that anything will change. To wait when it seems like endless days, hours, months are passing... You won't understand me!
“I understand that Your Majesty is talking about the time when Cardinal Mazarin did not give you the power you deserved…” Colbert muttered.
- You don't understand anything, Colbert! - Philippe interrupted him. - I don't know how much time I'll have! I thought I'd enjoy talking to the Princess, and look! She's gone. Maybe tomorrow I'll be gone! And you tell me to deny myself little amusements, to give up rest, and to think only about political affairs?
"Your venerable father, King Louis XIII, did not like to engage in politics," Colbert recalled. "He appointed Cardinal Richelieu as the first minister of France, and the cardinal did a good job of it.
Philippe turned sharply to face Colbert and looked intently into his eyes.
“You want to be the first minister?” he said dryly and harshly. “Do you know that Richelieu became the autocratic master of the country, the real and actual King, while my father became a formal ceremonial appendage to the Cardinal? Is that what you want? Do you want to become the real King of France, relegating me to the position of a court parrot who bows to diplomats and follows every skirt? So that I would narrow my interests to gastronomic pleasures, hunting, card games, gallant adventures?”
"It's almost happened already," Colbert thought. "Do politics yourself, or let me do it, or find someone else!"
“Why are you silent, Monsieur Colbert?” Philippe asked impatiently.
"Your Majesty is absolutely right not to appoint a first minister, and I am in no way laying claim to this post," Colbert hastened to assure Philippe. "I would only like your attention to the problems of state administration to be a little more, and your attention to the entertainments organized by the Chevalier de Lorraine a little less. They are already saying at court that the King..."
- Why have you fallen silent? - asked Philip. - What do they talk about at court? And who dares to say anything about me behind my back?
“Forgive me, Your Majesty, I meant that some issues of state administration are being resolved too slowly, or are not resolved at all,” Colbert said.
"Look how much time we've wasted on empty bickering!" Philip dismissed. "How many papers I could have signed in that time!"
“In that case, let’s not waste time and proceed to consider the most urgent orders,” said Colbert, opening his folder.
“Okay, but first tell me why you sent d’Epernon to the fortress on the island of Saint-Marguerite?” asked Philippe.
“I wanted him to bring me Fouquet so that I could discuss with him the matters I have already had the honor of reporting,” replied Colbert.
- A lie! You sent him before I sent Fouquet there! - Philippe objected.
“Let me explain,” Colbert said.
"You have disregarded my orders not to poke your nose where it does not belong!" Philippe continued. "Colbert, I am dismissing you. Be kind enough to hand over your affairs to Secretary of State Letellier. I will not detain you any longer."
“Your Majesty, you are making a big mistake,” Colbert said calmly.
"You are making a big mistake, Colbert," Philippe replied. "Or rather, you have already made one. And thank God that I am not sending you to the Bastille."
Colbert placed the folder with the documents prepared for signature on Louis's table, bowed and left the King's office.
At that moment, Philip heard the door creak and looked around. The door of the mirrored wardrobe opened and Louis came out of the wardrobe.
"Philippe, you have dismissed Colbert?" Louis exclaimed. "What will happen to France?"
"How did you get here?" Philip exclaimed. "I'll call security!"
“Don’t rush, Philippe,” Louis replied. “I can call the guards too. And which of us do you think they should listen to? Which of us should they arrest? We are as alike as two peas in a pod. We are together in this office. In my office. How I have been waiting for this moment!”
“I’ll say that you are an impostor,” Philip said uncertainly.
“I’ll say the same about you,” Louis replied.
"So we're going to compete to see who will be believed more?" Philip asked. "Do you think our chances are equal? I can easily prove that I am me, since I know what I said yesterday, a week ago, and a month ago, whereas you..."
“I will prove that I am the King of France,” Louis replied, “for I know much that you do not know, what happened a year ago, two years ago, my whole life except for the last few months!”
"Let's see who wins!" Philip exclaimed, heading for the door.
“Wait, my brother!” Louis stopped him. “I know that fate has played a cruel joke on us, and I know that you have suffered more than I have. I also admit that I was too harsh with you when I sent you back to the Bastille and then to the fortress on the remote island of Sainte-Marguerite. I ask your forgiveness for this. But you and I are obliged to think of the good of France. At present, only four people besides you and me know of our secret. They are Fouquet, Captain d’Artagnan, the Duchess de Chevreuse, and the Bishop of Vannes d’Herblay. Fouquet is under arrest and will be unable to tell anyone anything. The other three will remain silent, I am convinced of it. If you open the doors now, in a minute several more people will know of this secret, tomorrow all of Paris will know about it, the day after tomorrow all of France, and in a week the whole world.” France will split into two hostile camps, the surrounding countries will not fail to take advantage of its weakening to grab tasty morsels for themselves. Turkey and Holland will immediately attack France, then England will seize our northwestern seaports, Turkey – the southern ports, Spain will also grab a sizable chunk. Brittany will rebel. The country will face chaos and civil war. Is that what you want?
"I don't want to know anything about it!" Philip objected. "I will fight for my rights by all means possible."
After these words, Philip walked up to the door and abruptly opened it.
At the door he met Captain d'Artagnan. Next to him stood the Duke d'Alameda.

CXLI. Choice 

At first glance, d'Artagnan assessed the situation accurately.
“Hello, Your Majesties,” he said calmly and bowed to both brothers.
“Good day, Your Majesty and Monseigneur,” said Aramis in such a way that it was not clear which of the two addresses was addressed to Philippe and which to Louis, after which he closed the doors of the office from the inside with a bolt.
"Look, d'Herblay, what your criminal actions have led to!" exclaimed Louis.
"D'Artagnan, how did you let him escape?" cried Philippe. "I will have de Saint-Mars hanged!"
"De Saint-Mars is innocent, Your Majesty," replied d'Artagnan. "I did not bring King Louis XIV of France to him, because I did not consider myself entitled to do so. The King was in the abbey."
"Stop calling this impostor Your Majesty!" Louis exclaimed. "De Saint-Mars really knew nothing, and he is not guilty of anything," he added, turning to Philippe. "It would be unfair to hang him. He is a very honest man and a good officer."
"Monsieur d'Artagnan, arrest my brother!" Philippe said firmly.
“Captain d’Artagnan, arrest my brother,” said Louis.
“Marshal of France, Monsieur d’Artagnan, carry out the order and arrest Louis,” Philip ordered.
“Grand Marshal of France, Monsieur d’Artagnan, arrest Philippe,” said Louis.
“First Minister of France, Monsieur d’Artagnan, arrest Louis,” cried Philippe.
"Wait, gentlemen of the Kings," d'Artagnan objected. "There is only one Chief Marshal of France, and so far as I know, Mr. Henri de La Tour d'Auvergne, Viscount de Turenne, has not yet left this post. There is no first minister in France, and I hope there never will be one."
“Just as France will not have two Kings,” Aramis, who had been watching what was happening with interest all this time, finally spoke up.
"Yes, that's true," agreed d'Artagnan. "I swear by my life! What's more! I swear by my honor, the honor of Charles d'Artagnan, that only one King of France will leave this room."
“And what will happen to the second one?” Philippe asked d’Artagnan.
“That will be decided by the first, he is the only King,” answered Aramis, although the question was not asked to him.
“I agree,” said d’Artagnan. “This question can be considered secondary for now.”
“He only promised to make you a marshal, d’Artagnan, but he never did,” said Philippe.
“As are you,” replied Louis.
"Your brother's certain irresponsibility does not irritate me," said d'Artagnan to Philippe. "He promised to starve me to death in the Bastille along with Monsieur d'Herblay, he promised to hang me, he also promised to let me rot in prison. I would rather that all the promises His Majesty has made me were not fulfilled than that they were all fulfilled exactly."
"I have dismissed Colbert!" Philippe exclaimed. "I can bring back Fouquet!"
"You dismissed Colbert?" d'Artagnan asked in surprise.
"You agree to return Fouquet to the post of Superintendent of Finance?" Aramis asked with equal surprise.
“Yes, I am absolutely serious!” Philip replied.
“Monseigneur, in the name of the King I arrest you,” d’Artagnan said coldly to Philippe.
“Please put on this mask,” added Aramis, taking from his pocket a gray cloth mask that covered his entire face.
"Your Majesty, would you like to order the prisoner to be delivered to the fortress of the island of Saint-Marguerite under the name of Marchiali?" d'Artagnan asked Louis.
“No, to the Bastille, under the name of Eustache Dauger,” Louis replied. “I will write the order now. And one more thing. De Besmeaux is to resign. I appoint de Cinq-Mars as commandant of the Bastille, who is to come to the Bastille with his two prisoners, Marchiali and Fouquet. Both of them are to be kept in solitary confinement in the Bastille. The rules for the detention of Eustache Dauger are the same as those laid down by my previous order regarding the prisoner Marchiali. Until de Cinq-Mars arrives, Monsieur de Besmeaux will retain his position as commandant of the Bastille, but under the supervision of Captain d’Artagnan of the King’s Musketeers, who will be on duty in the Bastille until de Cinq-Mars arrives. Monsieur the Duke of Alameda, I will not detain you any longer today. I believe you have much to do in resolving many diplomatic issues to further strengthen the military cooperation between Spain and France.” Just one small request: Mr. Colbert is returning to his post, the decision on his resignation is cancelled, I ask you to inform him of this, Mr. Duke. I have many other urgent matters to attend to at the moment.
D'Artagnan and d'Herblay bowed to Louis and placed their right hands on the hilts of their swords. Seeing this gesture, Philippe put on the mask offered to him and, bowing his head, left the King's study, accompanied by d'Artagnan and Aramis.
After they left, the King's secretary, Hubert, came through the door.
“Your Majesty, the Chevalier de Lorraine has come to see you,” he said.
“Let him go,” Louis waved his hand. “I don’t have time for him.”

CXLII. Pont Neuf Bridge 

On the night preceding the events described in the previous chapter, two noblemen were leisurely strolling along the Pont Neuf, peering intently into the darkness.
"Look at this!" exclaimed the one who was noticeably taller. "It looks like it's just what we need."
- Wait a minute, my friend! - exclaimed the second. - Don't rush this matter! Give us five minutes first.
"Go to hell!" a voice from the darkness replied.
"We will leave, of course, and we will not interfere with you finishing what you started!" the taller one answered. "But we think we have an offer that might interest you."
“Well, what else do you want?” asked the man whom the two noblemen had called out in a dissatisfied voice.
After these words, a tramp in torn clothes approached them.
"Excuse me, for God's sake," said the tall one. "We thought you were going to jump off that bridge."
"Who cares what I decide to do?" the tramp answered rudely. "I can manage my own life."
“That is certainly true,” replied the second. “But perhaps you would agree to listen to our proposal regarding another option?”
"I'm fed up with this life and I've decided to end it here and now," the tramp replied. "I'm tired of the poverty I live in. And I don't want to prolong this hateful life for even one more day!"
"If we were to offer you a little more time in the warmth, so that you were fed with exquisite dishes, you wore the finest softest linen and very decent clothes, and it would cost you nothing, would you still refuse to talk to us and would prefer to jump off the bridge into the Seine?" asked the shorter man.
"What's the catch?" asked the tramp. "What are you offering me?"
“Just don’t jump off the bridge and don’t die for a while,” the tall one replied. “If our conditions seem burdensome to you, you can return to your idea of ending your life at any time, and believe me, no one will stop you from doing so!”
“What will I have to do for this?” the tramp asked incredulously.
"Just go to jail," the second replied. "You'll have to replace one person who doesn't belong there."
- To prison? - exclaimed the tramp. - You want to throw an innocent man into the Bastille? This is lawlessness!
"We simply offered you an alternative," the shorter man replied. "It is up to you to accept or decline. If suicide seems more attractive to you, that is your choice."
"Who the hell are you?" exclaimed the tramp.
“We are volunteers who, on a whim, decided to reduce the number of suicides in Paris,” the tall one replied.
- You'd better reduce the number of bandits and robbers! - the tramp objected. - Take a walk to the Pont des Changes. It's full of murderers, robbers and rapists. Take any of them and take them to the Bastille.
“Well, thank you for the idea,” replied the shorter one, and put the purse into the tramp’s hand.
- What is this? Gold? For me? - asked the tramp. - They'll throw me in your Bastille with it! No need! - and he returned the wallet.
"Then take this," said the tall man, placing a larger purse on the tramp's hand. "There is silver here, my friend. It will not arouse any suspicion."
"We apologize for interrupting your intention," said the shorter one. "You may return to your plans for a night swim."
- Why? - the tramp was surprised. - I'm rich now! I'll buy Madeleine out of the brothel and marry her!
"Then if, some time after your married life, you should again return to your idea of ending your life by night bathing, we ask you not to blame us for it, since you made your own choice, and in any case, we did not force you to marry," said the shorter one. "Come, Porthos. This man chose his own fate. We must hurry to the Pont d'Exchange."

Approaching the Pont des Changes, our friends, Athos and Porthos, whom our readers probably already recognized, indeed soon heard the cries of two women calling for rescue from street robbers.
The friends drew their swords and rushed to the aid of the unfortunates. Three of the robbers were also armed. They tried to resist, which resulted in a fight in which Porthos quickly stabbed one of the scoundrels, and Athos, the other.
"Surrender!" Porthos cried to the third.
"Be careful, Porthos, don't pierce him!" Athos reminded.
"I surrender, I surrender! Just don't kill me!" the robber shouted, seeing that his two accomplices would never be able to engage in their vile trade again.
"Don't pity this scoundrel, gentlemen!" one of the women exclaimed. "These three are vile murderers! They killed my sister and mother!"
"There's so much blood on them that no river could wash it away," the second one chimed in. "I hope these two never kill anyone again."
"Sir, you deserve a cruel punishment," said Athos to the surviving murderer. "You should have been killed, like these two scoundrels, but your fate will be a little easier. Bind him, Porthos."
"Oh, gentlemen!" cried the first woman. "How can I thank you?"
“Ladies, don’t go for a walk in such places at such a late hour, that’s all we want from you,” said Athos.
“I hope that among them there is not that Madeleine that that poor fellow at the Pont Neuf post was talking about,” grumbled Porthos.

CXLIII. The Duke's Carriage 

D'Artagnan and Aramis led the man in the grey cloth mask out of the Louvre and into a large carriage bearing the coat of arms of the Duke of Alameda. The captain once again unfolded the King's order, written in Louis's own hand.
“That’s right,” he said.
“We are going to the Bastille,” said Aramis to the coachman, and the carriage sped along the cobblestones in the direction indicated by the Duke.
After driving two streets, the carriage stopped next to another identical carriage.
"Please leave, monseigneur," said d'Artagnan. "We will change carriages."
Philip obeyed and got out of the carriage. Entering another carriage, he saw three masked men sitting in it.
“Who are you?” he asked.
"Have no fear, monseigneur," said d'Artagnan. "Two of these men are our friends, and we are taking the third."
After this, Aramis and d'Artagnan took the man in the grey mask, who was sitting between the other two, by the arms and led him out of the carriage, and offered Philippe to take his place.
“Who are you and what do you want from me?” asked Philip.
“I am the Count de La Fer,” said one of them, removing his mask.
“And I am Baron du Valon de Pierrefonds de Bracieux,” said the second.
“Where are you taking me?” asked Philip.
"Monseigneur, you and I will leave France, we will go to a beautiful place in Scotland called Monqueville," said Athos. "There you will be able to lead a quiet, happy, joyful life. You will not be a prisoner in the Bastille, because we have decided so. We believe that prison, any prison, is no place for a Prince, son of King Louis XIII and grandson of Henry IV. Such a fate is an insult to the entire royal dynasty.
“Who is this other person who sat here before me?” asked Philip.
"He is a bandit who robbed and killed defenseless women near the Pont d'Exchange," said Porthos. "He should have been killed for his crimes, but we decided that he could sit in the fortress in your place."
"Our friends will take him to the fortress on the island of Saint-Marguerite, monseigneur," said Athos. "If, of course, you do not object to this plan."
“The plans have changed, we will take him closer, to the Bastille,” said d’Artagnan, looking into the carriage. “From now on, this scoundrel’s name is Eustache Dauger. Well, monseigneur, have you changed your mind? Where would you prefer to go? To the Bastille or to Monqueville?”
“To Monkville, of course!” Philip answered.
"Well, that suits us!" replied d'Artagnan. "Let's meet at Planchet's!"
After this, Athos ordered the driver of the second carriage to drive to Planchet's establishment.
"Aramis, go to Colbert and make him happy that he is not resigning," said d'Artagnan. "I can deal with this scoundrel myself."
"Wouldn't it be better for you to take at least a couple of musketeers?" asked Aramis.
"Oh, don't worry, my sword is enough to keep the bandit from escaping from me," replied the captain. "Go, Aramis, and try to make peace with Colbert! It will be useful to you!"
"Certainly!" cried Aramis, waving his hand at d'Artagnan.

Colbert's secretary informed his master that the Duke d'Alameda had come to see him.
"Let him come in," said Colbert. "He has come to celebrate his victory. It makes no difference to me."
"What exactly is it that you don't care about, Monsieur Minister?" asked Aramis, entering Colbert's office.
“I don’t care that you rejoice in your victory over me,” Colbert replied.
“Not at all,” replied Aramis. “I have come to inform you that you are not resigning. On the contrary, although you will not formally be First Minister, your duties will be almost the same. And your rights, of course. To begin with, I simply remind you of our mutual agreement. You will do nothing against me and my friends, you will listen attentively to my advice, aimed, of course, at strengthening France, which was and remains my Motherland, and I, for my part, will resolve those minor unpleasantnesses that may happen to you through misunderstanding, such as your unexpected resignation, for example.”
"So I'm not resigning, you say?" Colbert asked in surprise. "What's the reason for this change?"
“The reason is that my friends and I decided that France needed you, and we managed to convince His Majesty of this, that’s all,” Aramis replied.
“But it was so recently…” muttered the surprised Colbert.
“You yourself could see that we get along very well with His Majesty,” Aramis reminded.
"But not so much as to influence the appointment of the Minister of Finance and cancel his resignation!?" exclaimed Colbert. "I simply don't understand this!"
"Believe me, that much, and even more, and you don't need to understand it at all," Aramis replied. "Just do your job to the best of your ability, as honestly and responsibly as possible. That's all that's required of you."


CXLIV. Planchet

D'Artagnan took the criminal, captured the day before by Athos and Porthos, to the Bastille and handed him over to the care of de Besmeaux. The scoundrel did not resist, since he was threatened that if he offered any resistance, he would be brought to trial for the crimes he had committed, and then he would not escape hanging. The order, signed by the King, which d'Artagnan gave to de Besmeaux, stated that the prisoner Eustache Dauger was to be kept in solitary confinement in the largest cell of the Bastille, and that he was to be given the highest standard of provisions.
"This is just like a new Marchiali!" Bezmo exclaimed.
“You have no idea how right you are, Marquis,” the captain agreed. “You know, no one is to be allowed to see this prisoner in any way, except by personal order of the King; there is a note to that effect here.”

Having got rid of the robber, d'Artagnan got into the carriage and headed towards Planchet.
"My dear Planchet!" said d'Artagnan, entering his establishment. "I have a favor to ask of you."
“Whatever you command, Monsieur d’Artagnan!” replied the good-natured Planchet.
— In connection with the upcoming military campaign, I ask you to preserve my will, a copy of which is kept in Blois by Master Duvalier.
“Why such gloomy predictions, Monsieur d’Artagnan?” asked Planchet.
- Anything can happen in military service, - the captain answered. - Before, I had nothing to leave, and no one to leave it to. Now the situation has changed. You see, my friend, fate is fickle. My dear friends, Baron du Valon and Count de La Fer, although they are alive, as you yourself have seen, but according to documents drawn up according to all the rules of the law, they are as if dead.
"That's why I treated them to Burgundy yesterday!" Planchet replied. "And the baron ate the ham so well that not every living man could compare with him in this."
“Yes, that’s true,” replied d’Artagnan. “Well, both my friends left all their property to Raoul.”
"So Monsieur Raoul is rich now!" exclaimed Planchet. "The Baron had a very handsome estate!"
- Exactly so, dear Planchet, - confirmed d'Artagnan. - But according to the documents, he also died, and left, according to his will, all his estate to me. It should all be converted into money and returned to the dead, but there was no time to do it.
“These things don’t get done quickly,” Planchet agreed.
- Well, as you see, Planchet, I suddenly found myself the owner of enormous capital by my standards, but all in real estate, - the captain continued. - And yet I am a military man. I can appear before the Creator at any moment. And what will happen to the estates of my friends?
"Have you any relatives, sir?" asked Planchet.
"You know, Planchet, Fran;ois turned out to be my nephew!" replied d'Artagnan. "It is certain, you can be sure of it."
- Fran;ois is your nephew? - Planchet was surprised. - Who would have thought! No wonder he looks so much like you!
"You know he's my countryman, right?" the captain asked. "We got to talking about the places we both grew up in, we touched on mutual acquaintances, and then it turned out he was my nephew. On my mother's side."
"Did you have a sister?" Planchet asked.
"You could say that," d'Artagnan shrugged. "Although I would have preferred to call her cousin. Well, you understand, my friend, we were not so close, I mean kinship, that it would have prevented us from getting closer than a brother and sister can afford."
"So Fran;ois is your closest relative, if you have no closer relatives?" Planchet asked.
“You know, Planchet, I have never been seriously married!” continued d’Artagnan. “In the sense that I have never had a wife. At least, not one of my own. My God. The one who was considered my wife for a time was nothing but a leech, intent on sucking all my blood. In that strange marriage, in which we only quarreled and went to court, she even managed to have two children, but I, it seems to me, and not without reason, had nothing to do with their birth. Therefore, in fact, I have no legitimate, I would say, specifically my children. But I do have a legitimate nephew, if I may say so. That is, absolutely my nephew. A half-blood. He is like a son to me, believe me. And even more. Not every son is as close to his father as Fran;ois is to me. In other words, I want to bequeath everything to Fran;ois, except for the part that I bequeath to you, my friend Planchet.”
"You have remembered me too, Monsieur d'Artagnan?" exclaimed Planchet.
- Of course! - smiled the captain. - The will does not ignore you, nor Bazin, nor Grimaud. Unfortunately, poor Mouston has already passed away, otherwise he would not have been forgotten. Well, the will is kept, as I have already said, by Master Duvalier, and in this envelope is a certified copy of it. Give it to Fran;ois when I... When me... In a word, when it is necessary. And I would very much like him to inherit my family name. It says so there. Do you think it sounds good - Fran;ois d'Artagnan?
"The name d'Artagnan sounds excellent in any combination, sir captain!" exclaimed Planchet.
"Today, my friend Planchet, we will all dine with you," said the flattered d'Artagnan. "As in the good old days. The late Athos and Porthos, and the living Aramis, and also Monseigneur, who has already dined and spent the night with you."
- You are most welcome, Mr. Captain. To receive your friends - Mr. Count, Mr. Baron and Mr. Duke - is always a great honor and a great joy for me.
- And Monseigneur too, Planchet! - added d'Artagnan. - But about that, keep quiet!
"You know me!" Planchet smiled. "When it comes to commercial secrets, I'm as silent as the grave."
- That's exactly what commercial means, Planchet! - winked d'Artagnan.

CXLV. Friends' Dinner

In the evening, everyone gathered in a separate room at Planche's establishment.
"Monseigneur," d'Artagnan turned to Philippe, "do not judge us harshly for the choice we had to make. We did not act as you would have liked, of course, and most likely to the detriment of all of us, but this decision will benefit France."
"You didn't see the King in me, or do you think I'm unworthy?" Philip asked.
“You are worthy to occupy the place of the King of France, Monseigneur,” said Athos, “but there is a more worthy candidate, and fate itself has already chosen him once.”
"We, like you, dislike Monsieur Colbert, Monseigneur," added Aramis, "but this man has shown in his actions that France needs him. Whatever my attitude towards Monsieur Fouquet, I must admit that his interests are concentrated mainly on luxury for his family and his so-called friends, while Colbert's interests coincide exactly with the interests of France as a state in need of strengthening its economic position and political power, that is, its finances, its army and its navy.
— Investigations have shown that Fouquet very often confused his own pocket with the state's, and the mistakes were always to his advantage and to the detriment of the state, — d'Artagnan reported. — Do you know, Your Highness, that during Fouquet's reign the state exhausted all its income for five years in advance? All expenses are covered by loans from private individuals, to whom the treasury owes such sums that it will be impossible to pay off even in ten years. But if we continue to manage finances the way Fouquet did, the state debt will not be repaid, but will accumulate. Under the management of Monsieur Colbert, the state for a long time slowly but reliably began to decrease, and at the same time funds for the most urgent needs appeared in the treasury. The army and navy are getting stronger. As is the entire financial system. Statists come to power to replace thieves, scoundrels, swindlers, and fraudsters. This is probably bad for these swindlers, but for France it is not just good, it is the only way that will not lead to the collapse of the entire economic system. Colbert may hate me personally, but he is doing great things for France. I read the reports while I was forced to waste time traveling, sometimes in a carriage, sometimes on a ship.
“But you yourself told me, Monsieur d’Herblay, that I should remove Colbert and leave Monsieur Fouquet alone!” Philippe was surprised.
“I have said this to a man who has no opinion of his own on how France should be governed,” replied Aramis. “I was blinded, I wanted to govern France myself, using you as a means. Colbert was ungovernable, Fouquet was governable. If Fouquet had been Prime Minister and you the King, I believed that I could have been the actual ruler of France. But d’Artagnan has shown me by his actions that this is no good. I could have concentrated the power of France in my own hands, but not for long. And France would have become poorer and poorer if Fouquet had been Prime Minister. There are too many things to do, too many problems to solve in governing France. As your permanent adviser and minister, I would probably not have been able to cope with this, because I have other important matters to attend to, and in these matters, unfortunately, I must admit, I am not competent enough. The King of France cannot remain someone’s puppet. A real King must sit on the throne of France.” Your brother Louis would prefer his own overthrow to plunging the country into civil war. You would prefer to preserve your personal freedom and personal power. You have spoken out quite clearly on this point. So you are not yet a real King. You have tried to become one, but you are not very good at it.
“But no one noticed the substitution!” Philip exclaimed.
“No one in your immediate circle has probably noticed it,” agreed Aramis. “But that is only because you left Colbert in his position. This man has already shown that he is not only an ardent enemy of Fouquet, but above all a thrifty master of France. With all his methods, sometimes simply vile, like this vile espionage, intrigue, struggle with competitors, and so on, which I have had the opportunity to learn about, I cannot help but admire the activity and purposefulness of his nature. All this is evident from the results of his labors. Compared to him, Fouquet is nothing more than an arrogant peacock, who boasts of having the good fortune to manage the royal treasury. While acknowledging his scrupulousness and decency in some matters, I cannot help but admit many of his shortcomings, and besides, this decency of his in some cases becomes nothing more than stupidity.
"So my mistake was to have Colbert resign?" Philippe asked.
“This is only a small part of what we have observed and a tiny part of what we can foresee in the future,” said Athos.
"So, gentlemen, have you decided that you four can decide the fate of France and choose a King for it at your own discretion?" Philippe said defiantly.
"Not so, monseigneur," replied d'Artagnan. "We have become convinced that we four cannot decide the fate of France and choose a King for it at our own discretion, since Fate has already decided this question itself. We acknowledged our actions as impudent and renounced the result to which they led.
“Why didn’t you put me in the Bastille, as your King Louis ordered you to do?” asked Philippe.
"Because your father's legitimate son should not be where your brother has sent you, monseigneur," replied Athos. "There are orders that must not be obeyed, even if one must pay for them with one's life. D'Artagnan did not dare to put your brother in a dungeon, preferring to leave him in the abbey, which was a fatal misfortune for you, but he did not dare to put you in a dungeon either, which will be some consolation to you."
- So where are you taking me, to the abbey? To the monastery? - asked Philip.
"No, monseigneur," replied d'Artagnan. "I invite you and my friends to be my guests in Scotland, where I have a delightful little house by the river and at the foot of picturesque mountains. Monsieur le Comte de la F;re has already been there, and he liked it."
"We will be able to walk in the mountains, hunt, and do other things as free men. Your life will not be limited to one or two rooms and a few dozen books. You will live the life of a free man," said Athos. "But for the good of France, you will not lay claim to the French throne, since this will cause a civil war, and we will not allow that."
“You want to isolate me from life,” Philip said sadly.
"Only from political life," replied d'Artagnan. "However, if politics still interests you, you can receive information about all events in the world. But you will not influence them."
"I tried politics and I didn't like it," Philip replied. "That's probably why you chose to restore my brother to the French throne."
"Monseigneur," said Porthos, "is it worth while to do something that one does not feel like doing? Is it not better to live the life that one likes best and, therefore, that one enjoys most?"
“I had a palace, I had a luxurious life, I had women,” Philip said sadly.
“Well, we don’t promise you a palace and a luxurious life,” said d’Artagnan, “but you won’t necessarily have to lead the life of a hermit and recluse.”
“And you four will remain my jailers for life?” asked Philip.
“Perhaps not all four, perhaps not always the same ones, and perhaps not for life,” replied d’Artagnan.
“So you allow my return to the throne of France?” Philip asked, almost completely indifferently.
“We promise nothing and exclude nothing, Monseigneur,” replied Athos. “Life is such an unpredictable thing!”
"I understand!" Philip exclaimed. "You want me to be your guarantee? Just in case?"
"We want you to be a guarantee of France, Monseigneur," Athos replied. "Therefore, we see nothing wrong with you reading books on the history of France and the history of Europe, learning Spanish, and following the news from around the world."
"Who knows, Monseigneur, perhaps your brother will become a real tyrant, and then we will have the opportunity to save France from a new Caligula, not by stabbing him in the Senate, but simply by removing him from power, and power from him," said Aramis. "If by that time you have learned to understand the needs and aspirations of France, and become competent enough to take his place, such a replacement is entirely possible. I repeat in the name of all of us, your fate is not a guarantee for us, but a guarantee for France. Cardinal Richelieu saw in your birth only the possibility of disaster and civil war, but we see in it the opportunity to prevent the most dangerous misfortunes of the state, provided that the position of the King in retirement teaches you to make the right decisions on the most important state issues.
"I feel like a puppy who got a scolding from his owners for being naughty," said Philip. "But each of you is almost twice my age, there are four of you, and you are united in your opinion. I accept your decision and your conditions.

CXLVI. The Death of D'Artagnan

Colbert's prediction came true: in the spring, war with Holland broke out.
D'Artagnan acted as a marshal without formally receiving the title that both Kings had so often promised him for services that were by no means military. It was precisely these offers that depressed our hero most of all. He would have been glad to receive this title for successful military actions under his leadership and for personal military qualities such as courage, valor, heroism. He was offered this title for the vile murder of friends or for performing the functions of a jailer. As a result, the title of Marshal of France acquired a negative connotation for him. Thus, he set out at the head of a corps of twelve thousand cavalry and infantry, remaining captain of the king's musketeers. He received orders to seize one fortress after another, and he carried out these orders, trying to save people and ammunition within the limits of the opportunity that is given to the commander-in-chief in such circumstances, that is, having almost no such opportunity.
In a month, d'Artagnan's corps took twelve fortresses, if not exclusively due to his military talent and personal valor, then, in any case, to a significant extent due to these qualities of his.
Meanwhile, Louis XIV, who had brought Louise de La Valli;re back from the monastery, divided his attention between her, his legitimate wife Marie-Therese, and the rising star of the court, Madame de Montespan. The favorites competed with each other in everything, even in coming up with nicknames for the Sun King. If Louise began to call him Louis the Victorious, then Madame de Montespan called him Louis the Invincible, which served as her next victory over her rival, putting her in first place and pushing Louise into the background. Thus, the predictions of the Duchess de Chevreuse began to come true that the King was only a man, so Louise can, of course, lay claim to the role of the King's first favorite, but in no way can she hope to be his last favorite at the same time. The pleased Louis forgave d'Artagnan completely for all the humiliations he had suffered, which was greatly facilitated by the choice that d'Artagnan and Aramis eventually made on that momentous day for all of France, of which no one in France had suspected. The Duchess de Chevreuse was also favored by the King and received additional privileges in addition to the privilege received from Anne of Austria to live in the right wing of the Louvre, occupying ten of the best rooms with her servants.
One fine day the King decided to fulfill the promise he had so often made to d'Artagnan and had still not fulfilled.
The King, at his next meeting with Colbert, told him:
- Monsieur Colbert, it is high time to fulfill the promise given to Monsieur d'Artagnan, because he keeps my orders and his promises without fail.
"I have long ago ordered a marshal's baton and a box for Monsieur d'Artagnan to be prepared," replied Colbert. "The patent for the title of Marshal of France has also long been prepared; it is only necessary to put Your Majesty's signature on it. However, every such action requires a proper occasion and a suitable time."
"Do you think that taking twelve enemy fortresses is not a sufficient reason for this?" asked the King.
“Now the time has been lost, the last fortress was taken more than a week ago,” said Colbert. “If the patent is signed now, Monsieur d’Artagnan may reproach us for our sluggishness. Or he will decide that you, Your Majesty, have hesitated for a long time whether to give him this title or not. It would be much better to present him with this award on the day of the capture of the thirteenth fortress. It will look like an award that was presented immediately after the fulfillment of the corresponding conditions by this applicant. Or it can be presented as an advance for the capture of the thirteenth fortress.”
“You may be right, Mr. Colbert, but it seems petty,” said Louis with a sour expression. “One fortress more, one fortress less. Why drag it out?”
“I understand you, Your Majesty,” Colbert replied with a bow. “I will immediately bring you the patent for signature.”
“Very well,” nodded the King, but feeling that his victory over Colbert had come too easily, and fearing that this might offend his minister, he reluctantly added, “However, perhaps you are right. Let this patent be yours, and you will hand it over to Monsieur d’Artagnan when you deem it necessary.”
Thus, in this small competition, the winner was Colbert, and the loser was, as usual, Justice.
Meanwhile, d'Artagnan was preparing to storm the thirteenth fortress. For greater success, he ordered a hill to be built at night with a gentle slope on the side of the French army and a sharp cliff on the side of the Dutch army. He ordered four cannons to be rolled out onto this artificial hill, protecting the gunners with sacks of earth, which formed something like a fortress wall. Under his command, the cannons fired continuously at the fortress. Due to their elevated position, they allowed better aiming, the cannonballs flew over the fortress wall and inflicted serious damage on the enemy. D'Artagnan personally led the cannonade gunners, and his figure in a hat with a white feather was clearly visible to both the French and Dutch soldiers.
The Dutch, irritated by this unexpected disaster, concentrated the fire of the fortress cannons on this man-made embankment, hoping to destroy all four French cannons. When the cannonballs began to fly one after another, d'Artagnan said to his gunners:
- Take care of yourselves, gentlemen, retreat to a safe distance. At night we will additionally strengthen our firing point, replenish our supplies of gunpowder and cannonballs, and tomorrow the fortress will be ours.
“And what about you, Monsieur d’Artagnan?” asked the faithful d’Arlencourt.
"I'll be down there with you in a minute," the captain replied. "I'll just take a final look at the damage we've done to them."
After these words, d'Artagnan took a telescope and, under cover of one of the cannons, began to carefully study the cracks in the enemy's fortress wall. At that moment, a cannonball flew from the fortress and hit the cannon behind which d'Artagnan stood. The cannon rolled back and hit the captain in the chest, on which, despite the armor covering it, a bloody stain immediately appeared. At the same time, another cannonball tore out a huge piece of earth from the embankment, which almost buried d'Artagnan, who had fallen from the first blow.
"Captain d'Artagnan is wounded!" cried d'Arlencourt and rushed to the rescue of his captain.
"It is the finger of God!" said d'Artagnan, out of breath.
"Silence, captain, silence!" cried d'Arlencourt. "We will carry you beyond the range of the enemy's guns. The doctor will attend to you soon."
D'Arlencourt motioned to two soldiers to pick up d'Artagnan and carry him to the doctor's tent.
"What happened?" asked one of the gunners. "Is our commander-in-chief killed?"
“We all walk under God,” replied d’Arlencourt, “I hope he is only wounded.”
Military doctor Stefan Duval examined d'Artagnan and said sadly:
- You have at least three broken ribs, Monsieur d'Artagnan.
“What else?” the captain asked, breathing heavily.
"Can you take a deep breath?" the doctor asked. "Where do you feel the pain?"
“Right here,” answered d’Artagnan, pointing to his chest.
“Perhaps I can save your life,” said the doctor, “but not under these conditions.”
"Monsieur d'Artagnan!" cried d'Arlencourt, looking into the tent. "An urgent message has arrived for you!"
“Read, d’Arlencourt,” said d’Artagnan, swallowing air with difficulty.
“Monsieur Captain, this letter is from Monsieur Colbert,” said d’Arlencourt.
He broke the seal on the letter and read the following words:

"Monsieur d'Artagnan! The King charges me to inform you that, in consideration of your impeccable service and the honor you bring to his army, he appoints you Marshal of France. His Majesty is delighted with the victories you have won and counts on further victories for the corps under your leadership. I am also sending you a box containing a marshal's baton and a patent signed by His Majesty.
Signed: J.-B. Colbert."

- D'Arlencourt, - said d'Artagnan, straining all his strength, - I charge you with restoring the embankment tonight and replacing the broken cannon with a working one. Put three more cannons there. Tomorrow at dawn you will carry out artillery preparation. Fire all your guns under the twelfth battlement, if you count from the right. There is a good crack there. Five accurate hits will bring down this wall. Immediately after the collapse, give the signal to storm. By lunchtime the fortress will be ours.
“Captain, you can’t talk,” said the doctor.
“Monsieur Duval, thank you, I have already said everything,” replied d’Artagnan and closed his eyes.
"Will he live?" asked d'Arlencourt.
"I won't give it back to you for tomorrow's attack, but we'll see," Duval replied. "You must act as if you didn't have it."
"Yes, d'Arlencourt," said d'Artagnan, opening his eyes. "Tomorrow you will be me."
"What about the captain?" one of the officers asked d'Arlencourt. "Is he alive? Will he live?"
"I don't know," replied d'Arlencourt. "They brought him a patent for the title of Marshal of France and a Marshal's baton, but... I don't think it made any impression on him."
"Is he really that bad?" the officer asked worriedly. "Did he even understand what was being discussed?"
"He gave me his final instructions regarding tomorrow's battle and this night's preparations for it," replied d'Arlencourt. "Tomorrow I will be your commander."
The night's actions and the morning attack were carried out in full accordance with d'Artagnan's instructions and led to the results he had predicted. The fortress wall under the twelfth battlement collapsed, the infantry rushed into the breach and the fortress was taken.
At three o'clock in the afternoon d'Arlencourt found the doctor.
"Where is our captain?" asked d'Arlencourt.
“He’s gone,” replied Doctor Duval, meaning that he had ordered d’Artagnan to be transported far to the rear, since he required long-term treatment. “I ordered…”
“No need,” d’Arlencourt interrupted him. “Just tell me, what were his last words?”
— Last words? — Doctor Duval was surprised. — Wait a minute! He said this: “Athos, Porthos, until we meet again. Aramis, farewell forever!”
"What does this mean?" asked d'Arlencourt.
“I can’t explain that to you,” replied Dr. Duval. “Excuse me, I’m in a hurry to see the other wounded.”
"Doctor Duval," said the grey-haired man who had approached them a few minutes earlier and had heard their entire conversation. "I am Count Rochefort, a friend of Captain d'Artagnan. Is it true? The captain was hit by a cannonball?"
- You heard! - the doctor answered. - Sorry, I'm in a hurry.
- What a fate! - Rochefort said thoughtfully. - He suffered the very death he had spoken of two months before! And his last words were about his friends! What a pity that I was not one of them for so long!

D'Artagnan had lost a lot of blood and was almost exhausted. Despite the fact that Doctor Duval treated his wounds, the wounded man's condition was between life and death. Understanding the value of the commander-in-chief, Doctor Duval ordered that he be sent to France on a ship that was leaving there in the very near future. He also ordered the nurse Mademoiselle Campredon to accompany the captain. The box with the marshal's baton and patent were sent along with him. Thus, in an unconscious state, d'Artagnan departed for the shores of France.

That same evening, Mr. Colbert arrived at the troops.
“I wish to see Monsieur d’Artagnan!” he said.
"Monsieur d'Artagnan is not here," replied d'Arlencourt. "He was hit by a cannonball during yesterday's battle."
"Is he dead?" Colbert asked.
"He was taken away by ship, the doctor said he was very ill," replied d'Arlencourt. "The doctor's last words were that Captain d'Artagnan was no more."
"Why do you call him captain?" Colbert asked in surprise. "Hasn't he received a patent as a Marshal of France?"
“He did not have time to assume this position,” replied d’Arlencourt.
- Well... - said Colbert. - It's fate! I'll report to the King.

Epilogue

Some time later, after the events described in this novel, D'Artagnan, Athos, Porthos and Aramis had a picnic in the middle of a forest clearing in Scotland, not far from the Monkville estate, which belonged to D'Artagnan.
“My friends, this picnic reminds me of a couple of others,” said d’Artagnan.
- By my sword, I know what you mean! - exclaimed Porthos. - First of all, is this a dinner at the fortress of La Rochelle? Those were fine days!
“I agree,” Aramis smiled softly.
"To our youth, friends! Why are your cups empty?" cried Athos, although his cup could hardly be called full, since he had hardly drunk in recent years.
“Well, and the second one?” asked d’Artagnan.
“Of course, the one on which we planned this glorious event,” said Aramis with the same gentle smile.
- It's all true, friends! How glad I am that we are together again, as then, and as, I hope, always! - exclaimed d'Artagnan, tipping back his goblet of excellent Anjou wine. - And do you know what just came into my head?
“We’ll probably find out now,” Athos grinned.
— And the fact is that the four of us have been keeping our finger on the pulse of history for almost forty years now.
"Have mercy, d'Artagnan, are we really that old?" protested Aramis.
“I remember, Aramis, you’re not strong in mathematics,” d’Artagnan interjected.
“Not strong, by God!” answered Aramis.
“But in architecture,” continued d’Artagnan.
- Let's not talk about that! So what were you saying about the pulse of history?
— I claim that history is us, and we are history. We sometimes correct its course, that is, I say that we hold the reins of this spirited horse in our hands.
“As always, I agree with you, d’Artagnan,” replied Aramis, after he had furtively felt a certain envelope on his chest and made sure that the letter was still where it belonged.
"And no one can stop us!" continued d'Artagnan. "No one will dare to cross our path."
“Nobody!” Aramis confirmed, “But for God’s sake, be quiet!”
At this moment, a dry branch snapped under the foot of Didier de Trabu;on, who had fled the Ottoman Empire and had sworn to kill Monsieur d'Artagnan and Monsieur d'Herblay.
"Can they really hear us here in the forest?" d'Artagnan was surprised. "I've heard that walls have ears, but there aren't even walls here. Only trees."
"Unless it's some stupid wild animal? A squirrel, for example," with these words Aramis phlegmatically fired into the bushes.
Aramis's bullet hit de Trabu;on in the chest, he screamed and fell to the ground face down into an anthill.
“I thought I heard a scream?” d’Artagnan became wary.
"A squirrel, sir! A squirrel," Aramis objected.
"As for me, it was a whole boar!" exclaimed Porthos. "I think I'll take a look."
“It’s not necessary, Porthos,” Athos objected softly, “Aramis told you that it was a squirrel, so it was a squirrel.”
"A squirrel, or a marten. I'm weak in biology, as well as in mathematics," Aramis grinned.
“I hope there weren’t any other… squirrels with her,” Porthos chuckled.
“We’ve been sitting too long,” Athos replied, and silently indicated to Grimaud that he could put his things away.
“Mademoiselle Campredon is already waiting for our marshal,” Porthos smiled.
“And Mrs. Thomson is waiting for our baron,” d’Artagnan interjected in response.
"Miss Grefton's aunt is not bad at all," smiled Porthos. "Besides, she finds me impressive."
“I was not interested in how Mademoiselle Suzanne Campredon found me,” replied d’Artagnan, “what is more important to me is that I find her charming.”
"My friends!" cried Porthos, "it seems our friend is going to marry and make half a dozen little d'Artagnans! After that we shall have to leave Monqueville."
"What have you to fear, Porthos?" asked d'Artagnan. "After all, Fran;ois has converted all your estates into money and transferred the money to your account! You are rich, my friend, and can buy ten such Monkvilles."
- That's true! - Porthos answered proudly. - But I haven't decided yet where I want to spend the rest of my days. I haven't chosen a suitable castle yet. Here in Scotland, all the estates are too modest.
"My friends," said Athos, "Aramis and I are happy for you. You can enjoy a little family happiness."
"Listen, Athos!" said Aramis. "Have you never met a woman in your whole life who could..."
- My dear friend! - Athos interrupted him. - I have asked myself this question, but I still cannot answer it. Sometimes it seems to me that... However, no, I am too old for family life.
"And you, Aramis?" asked d'Artagnan. "I believe you were going to become Pope?"
“Not this year,” smiled Aramis. “And our young friend Philippe, it seems, is not at all burdened by his lot?”
"Wait, Aramis, don't think so far ahead," replied Athos. "Times change, and people change too."
“We change too, Athos,” agreed Aramis.
"What the hell is constant in this ever-changing world?" Porthos asked.
“Yes,” replied d’Artagnan. “Our friendship. One for all!”
"And all for one!" cried Athos, Porthos, and Aramis in one voice, after which all four laughed merrily, mounted their horses, and galloped off.


And now death has come to me,
I looked into the bony eyes,
But I won't rush to the grave,
I have three aces up my sleeve.
 
The first ace is steel courage,
Satan runs from such a one.
From any zigzag in life
She often brings it out.

Ace two - soldier's friendship,
She will support you at any hour.
With her, any difficult service
Not problematic and not scary.

The third ace is a wild stroke of luck,
Although she doesn’t come suddenly,
After all, it can’t be otherwise,
If you have courage and a friend.

I cheated death for a minute,
I have been given a new life,
I just hope I don't lose my mind!
Hey, Fortuna, stay a moment!

Let all battles go to hell,
I'm already disgusted with war,
I have no respect for her,
And it sits in my liver.

I can relax a little:
You've earned it already, haven't you?
Because what's left is
This is not my whole life.


They galloped in the direction that I will tell my dear readers in the next book of my novel, because what you just finished reading was only the first book of my new novel, Two Years Later. The second book will appear if …

Author's Afterword

When I had already written this book, I thought it was no good. That's why I didn't send it to the publisher. First I had to show it to my little tormentor.
Will she say anything about this?
Whether a second book will appear now depends entirely on her.

Afterword by the "translator "

The author of the book, V.A. Zhmud, stylized his work as Alexandre Dumas, just as many authors of the past passed off their works as genuine memoirs of other authors, and left himself only the role of “translator”.
For example, Gatien de Courtil de Sandres wrote his books under the guise of the memoirs of Count Rochefort, Captain d'Artagnan and other real historical figures. Alexandre Dumas himself presents his novel "The Princess of Monaco" to readers as the true diary of the princess. Daniel Defoe indicated in the title of the book, known to most readers as "Robinson Crusoe", that this book was written by Robinson himself and describes the true events that happened to him. The book does not claim to be historically accurate. Thus, in particular, the excessive indulgence of Alexandre Dumas in relation to some historical figures, such as Superintendent Fouquet, to whom Dumas attributed extraordinary nobility, truly royal generosity and absolute innocence, is accompanied by an absolutely negative image, for example, of Jean Baptiste Colbert, who, of course, was not such a villain as the writer showed him to be. It should be noted that Dumas himself sometimes depicted different historical figures in completely different ways in different books. Thus, if in the novel "The Three Musketeers" the image of Cardinal Richelieu is sharply negative, then in the novel "Twenty Years Later" the heroes remember him with warmth, and in the novel "The Red Sphinx" the image of this person is clearly positive. The same metamorphoses can be indicated in relation to the figures of the French Revolution. The author of this novel, therefore, tried to reveal the probable assessment of historical figures that the writer Alexandre Dumas could give, and not an impartial historian. The only goal of this work is to give readers the opportunity to once again enjoy the nobility, loyalty and courage of the four heroes of the trilogy of Alexandre Dumas, and above all, the adventures of the main character of the trilogy - Captain d'Artagnan. You can leave your comments on the novel and assessments of the work on the Proza.Ru website.
Especially if you want to read the second book in this duology.
;