Memoirs of Aramis, Book 6

Memoirs of Aramis, Book 6

Annotation

The sixth book of the fanfic "The Memoirs of Aramis" recounts the events that took place during the novel "The Vicomte de Bragelonne, or Ten Years Later," but presents them in a new light. Some secondary plots are left aside, while others are developed in greater detail. However, the ending of this book is noticeably different from that of "The Vicomte de Bragelonne."
Aramis is familiar with the trilogy The Three Musketeers, Twenty Years Later, and The Vicomte de Bragelonne, or Ten Years Later, which is known as the novels of Alexandre Dumas.
Since Alexandre Dumas himself states in the preface to the first novel of the trilogy that it is simply a slightly edited memoir of the Comte de la F;re, that is, Athos, it is not difficult to understand that this trilogy, in Dumas's opinion, was written during Athos's lifetime. How, then, can this trilogy describe Athos's death and the events that occurred later?
Aramis guessed that Athos's servant, Grimaud, had written the trilogy. Athos forbade him to speak, but in his old age, Grimaud was not burdened with great responsibilities; he lived at the Ch;teau de Bragelonne, where he had an extensive library. He read contemporary books and eventually decided to write his own book, describing the adventures of the Musketeers but embellishing it with a few fantastical episodes for added appeal.
So, Aramis, having the trilogy at his disposal and calling it Grimaud's memoirs, decided to write his own. For this reason, he refrained from recounting the events already accurately depicted in Grimaud's trilogy. However, noticing obvious errors and contradictions, he did not fail to point them out and present his own version of events.

The first book described events that took place before d'Artagnan's arrival in Paris. The second book is connected in time to the events of The Three Musketeers. The third book recounts the events between those described in that novel and those described in Twenty Years Later. The fourth book offers a parallel perspective, differing in many details from Twenty Years Later. The fifth book begins when the heroes, having received their desired rewards, depart for their homes and ends with the time when they meet again, that is, at the beginning of The Vicomte de Bragelonne.
The book begins with chapter 215, the first chapter after the death of Cardinal Mazarin.
Chapters 1–44 can be found in the first book, chapters 45–92 in the second book, chapters 93–133 in the third book, chapters 134–174 in the fourth book, and chapters 175–214 in the fifth book.
Enjoy reading!

Chapter 215

After Mazarin's death on March 9, Louis seemed to have changed. On the morning of March 10, Louis summoned his key advisers and secretaries of state.
"Gentlemen, from now on I will govern my kingdom myself," he announced. "Therefore, my ministers and secretaries should seek my instructions directly. No further orders will be signed and no funds will be allocated without my personal approval. Do you have any questions?"
— Your Majesty, when may we hope to know your wishes regarding the person to be appointed First Minister? Chancellor Seguier inquired delicately.
— Were you not listening to me carefully? asked Louis. I said that I would decide everything myself. This means that I will not have a first minister, or, if you prefer, I will be my own first minister.
Seguier bowed respectfully, and everyone else tried to quietly distance themselves from him, noticing the notes of displeasure in the King’s answer.
— The high council will include Minister of War Letellier, Minister of Foreign Affairs Lyonne and Minister of Finance Fouquet, Louis reported.
Everyone present took another half step away from Seguier, since his name, contrary to tradition, was not mentioned.
— Mr. Seguier, your duties will henceforth be limited to the area of justice and administrative matters, continued the King. — You will certify my decrees and put your seals on them.
Those present smiled at Seguier in a friendly manner and quietly tried to return to their previous places, moving a little closer to him.
— By the way, I instruct you, Monsieur Seguier, to inform Her Majesty and Monsieur, as well as Cond;, that from now on their presence at the meeting of the royal council is not required, added Louis.
The stakes for Seguier have risen again, since the King does not instruct just any courtier to convey his orders to the Queen Mother, the King's brother and a prince of the blood!
— That's all for today, - finished Louis. — I won't keep you any longer, gentlemen.
The ministers bowed and left the King's reception hall.
— What will it be? - asked a discouraged Seguier.
— What, actually, is bothering you? asked Fouquet with a satisfied look. Let's make His Majesty feel like the master of the state, enjoying absolute power. Sooner or later, he'll understand that it's not the King's job to be involved in financial calculations, economic solutions, or planning civil and military expenditures. No general ever handles economic matters; he has an quartermaster for that. So why should the King do it? Doesn't he have enough smart, businesslike people in the kingdom willing to do the complex and routine work for him? You'll see, Monsieur S;guier, in two weeks, or at most a month, the King will summon you and entrust you with all the work you've been doing, and perhaps even more. Who could handle the gigantic task of governing the state that Mazarin has been doing all this time? The King has declared that he will do it himself. Excellent! We mustn't argue with that! But we must be prepared for the fact that very soon he will ask us whom we could nominate from our ranks to carry out this work. That's what we need to think about, gentlemen! If our decision is well-founded, well-thought-out and coordinated, if we all propose the same person, the King will accept this candidacy without a doubt.
"He means himself," Letellier thought. "You turned the matter around cleverly!"
— And what do you order me to do? asked Seguier. — Should I sign and seal the papers? Or should I go and proclaim the royal will to the Queen Mother, Philippe d'Orl;ans, and the great Cond;?
— Regarding the second question, I believe there should be no doubt, since you cannot disobey the King’s order, said Lyonne. — As for the first question, you have absolutely no reason to be offended. After all, if you countersign the King's orders, then without your countersignature, these documents will be invalid! You will remain Chancellor, as you were! Monsieur Fouquet is right: we must allow His Majesty to play at absolutism for a while, to enjoy the feeling of absolute power. It's nothing, it will pass. Remember how Louis XIII was burdened by the need to make decisions on his own! How he delegated all decisions to Richelieu! Remember also how he rejoiced at the Cardinal's death, deciding that, finally, he was completely free in all his actions! Just three days later, he clutched his head in horror at the abundance of papers he had to sort through, and on which he would henceforth have to make decisions himself. And the glorious King Henry IV ? Wasn't he the same? He entrusted the management of the finances, and then the entire state, to Sully. All monarchs need first ministers, and ours will be no exception!
— Well, gentlemen, we have time to think about the candidate and not make rash decisions in a hurry, - Fouquet concluded. I don't see any significant changes in my duties, except perhaps that we will be meeting a little less frequently with the Queen Mother, Monsieur, and Cond;. This doesn't bother me at all.
— Monsieur will be furious, - said Lyonne. God forbid he starts plotting like his uncle Gaston.
— Philip is not like that at all, Fouquet objected. Besides, it seems that the Duchess de Chevreuse is not one of his friends?
— I hope so! - exclaimed Seguier. — Thank God, this lady has moderated her ardor somewhat and stopped interfering in all the affairs of the kingdom!
— Yeah, right! — Fouquet agreed. It was not for nothing that Richelieu said that France’s main problem was the Duchess de Chevreuse, and if there were no Duchess, France would not have any problems!
— I believe that in the year when God gave the nation King Louis XIII , as well as the future Queen Anne, the devil gave birth to the Duchess Marie de Rohan, the future Chevreuse! Letellier said.
— That's how it was! - Fouquet picked up. I would give a million livres for this intriguer to get away somewhere far away from Europe, for example, to Africa or India, or, even better, to snowy Russia!
Fouquet underestimated the Duchess. We all underestimated her then. If she could have been removed for double or even triple the price, it would still have been a splendid bargain! But what can you do! I, too, underestimated Marie's energy back then, the destructive force of her persistence, coupled with astonishing intelligence and a far from feminine cunning.

Chapter 216

— Mr. Colbert, - said Louis after a short silence. The late Cardinal Mazarin bequeathed to me your assistance in financial matters. You have proven that this advice was well founded, demonstrating the highest honesty and integrity, as you returned to the treasury a very substantial sum, which you could have kept for yourself without consequences.
— Your Majesty, I consider it unacceptable to appropriate public funds, answered Colbert. Robbing your King is an unthinkable crime!
— Unfortunately, not everyone thinks the same way as you, said the King. — And yet you are not like them, and I will remember and take that into account. You deserve the position of Intendant of Finances, and you have received it. But the Cardinal said something else about you .
Colbert bowed, realizing that the conversation would be about another positive recommendation.
— The Cardinal recommended you as an expert in military affairs, said the King. — I don't know you from that perspective at all. How do you explain this recommendation? What is your military expertise?
— I know, for example, that silver, gold, pearl and diamond decorations on the uniforms and horses of marshals, officers and soldiers do not in any way increase the fighting capacity of the army, whereas better food for the soldiers, better feed for the horses, better gunpowder, bullets, muskets, pistols, cannons and siege weapons greatly contribute to the fighting power of the troops, - said Colbert. — Six hundred musketeers without silver braid are better than five hundred musketeers with silver braid, and they would cost the same. By cutting out unnecessary expenses, we could equip a better army, build additional ships, and fortify our borders with better fortresses.
— An interesting view from a financier on army supplies! Louis exclaimed.
— Anything can be looked at through the eyes of a financier, Your Majesty, answered Colbert. Your august grandfather, His Majesty Henry IV , would probably have chosen another wife if not for financial considerations. The great Cond; would have remained one of France's most dangerous enemies if not for the money offered him by Cardinal Mazarin. Money can fight as well as an army. It can also start and end wars. But an army without money is worth nothing, as the mercenaries of King Charles I of England proved. He saved and hid millions of pounds sterling, as far as I know, in diamonds and other treasures for his heir, King Charles II , so that he could regain the throne of England and Scotland, which his father had lost. But King Charles could have found better uses for this money. Had he managed it properly, he would not have lost the army's loyalty and the throne. Then his son wouldn't have had to return it; he would have simply received it from the hands of his father, who would have died peacefully in his bed of old age or ordinary illnesses, rather than lay his head on the chopping block under the blow of an executioner who, I've heard, wasn't even a professional in this matter. Some suspect it was a Frenchman.
— You are almost as well informed about many events as I am! exclaimed the King.
Colbert was smart enough to realize that Louis was, to put it mildly, exaggerating, and to realize that this game should be supported.
— Not nearly as much as you, Your Majesty, but I have sources of information, - he played along with the King. For example, I am aware that Your Majesty has ordered the island of Belle-Ile to be fortified, turning it into a fortress, and I fully support this decision, but there is one circumstance that remains incomprehensible to me.
"Am I fortifying Belle-Ile?" Louis was surprised. There is still a lot I have to learn about myself!”
— I wonder, dear Colbert, what exactly has escaped your inquisitive mind? said the King with a grin.
— I am not interested in the name of the talented engineer who designed these fortifications, said Colbert. — Although I would, on occasion, ask him why the fortress walls facing the mainland are not only no weaker, but even, it seems to me, much stronger, than the walls facing the open sea. Meanwhile, the mainland part facing the island is not fortified at all. If this were done to prevent the enemy from entering the strait between the island and the mainland, fortifying the mainland coast would not only be even more justified, but also more important, and cheaper. But this is not being done. Although, it is possible that I simply did not take into account certain tactical considerations, since strategic considerations would convince me that it is precisely the opposite of what is being done now.
— Yes, yes, tactics and strategy, they sometimes, you know, put forward conflicting demands, - said the King absentmindedly. But if you are not interested in this, then what are you interested in?
— As a financier, I am primarily interested in the reason why the island is owned by Mr. Fouquet, and the construction is carried out at the expense of the treasury, in any case, at least at half the cost, - Colbert said calmly. However, I understand that there is, of course, a confidential agreement under which the island will be governed on a parity basis. That is, Monsieur Fouquet will appoint the island's commandant, naturally, in consultation with Your Majesty, and the troops stationed on the island to defend this new fortress will, of course, be Your Majesty's troops. And, of course, Monsieur Fouquet has signed a pledge to receive royal ships duty-free in the ports of Belle-;le and to provide them with all possible assistance at his own expense. In that case, I admire this project. If not, then all construction must be financed by Monsieur Fouquet as a private individual, although the island's strategic position requires that he still coordinate all matters with Your Majesty. Cardinal Richelieu ordered the destruction of all fortresses except the border ones, and commandants of the border fortresses are appointed by the Prime Minister or the King. This is the guarantee of the state's security and the integrity of its borders.
Louis bit his lip.
— All the above agreements were reached verbally between Cardinal Mazarin and Fouquet, the King lied, blushing. I remember the cardinal telling me about this.
— I assumed so, - answered Colbert. In the world of finance, verbal agreements are observed no less strictly than written ones. I would even say they are sometimes stronger than paper agreements, since fulfilling them is a matter of honor for a nobleman. But verbal agreements with deceased people are extremely unreliable... Death cancels verbal agreements.
— In the very near future, Mr. Fouquet and I will formalize these agreements in writing, said the King. — More than half of the expenses are covered by the treasury, you say? Not a third or a quarter, but more than half? That's somewhat beyond... verbal agreements. And beyond the bounds of reason.
— Sixty-two and a half percent, - Colbert answered so quickly and without hesitation, as if he had expected this question, which was in fact the case.
— Sixty-two and a half percent, - Louis repeated thoughtfully.
— Two hundred and fifty thousand livres, - Colbert clarified. — With a total cost of four hundred thousand livres, the actual costs by the time the work is completed, I believe, will be double that. If the ratio of contributions from the two funding sources for the construction remains the same, the treasury's expenditure will amount to...
— Five hundred thousand livres, - said the King. — Fouquet is truly a miraculous superintendent of finance. If he can so skillfully squeeze sums from the treasury that I thought were never available, I imagine he could squeeze water from a stone!
— This is roughly what his tax-collecting officials do, answered Colbert.
— This island belongs to Paul de Gondi, as far as I remember? asked the King.
— Nicolas Fouquet bought it from him for one million four hundred thousand livres, answered Colbert. In fact, one million three hundred thousand were paid, and for one hundred thousand they gave securities that are actually worth nothing.
— You are aware of all of Fouquet's major expenses, Mr. Colbert! the King admired.
— I am also aware of all his other expenses, including his patronage, gifts, bribes and payments for information obtained by his agents, answered Colbert. Just recently, at the request of Cardinal Mazarin, I drew up a memorandum listing these expenses.
— Really? - the King was surprised. How did the cardinal react to this memorandum?
— No way, Your Majesty, answered Colbert.
— Did he return it to you? asked Louis. Did you make any notes on it? Did you hand it over to someone else for study?
— I am not aware of this, the fate of this document is unknown to me, - Colbert replied.
— Do you still have a copy? asked the King.
— Yes, Your Majesty, - answered Colbert.
— Bring it to me, - the King ordered. Don't worry, I won't destroy it, and your work won't be wasted. You can make another copy beforehand and keep it for yourself. I understand you'd be sorry to see your work go to waste. And add to this the information you know about the fortifications of Belle-;le.
— Okay, Your Majesty, it will be done, - Colbert replied, pleased that his work had been appreciated.
— Thank you, Mr. Colbert, you have convinced me that the recommendation the Cardinal gave you on the military side is no less deserved than the recommendation on the financial side, the King replied. I won't keep you, you're free to go. I'll be expecting you tomorrow with a report on current affairs.
“However, in my state there are things happening that should not be carried out without my consent!” thought the King. — "They're asking my consent for all sorts of nonsense, yet the sale of the island for almost one and a half million livres and its fortifications costing half a million livres are being carried out without my consent! And what's more, this island is owned by Fouquet! I thought this land was still in the Gondi family! How did Paul de Gondi, Cardinal de Retz, part with it? How did Fouquet persuade him?"
Half an hour later, the captain of the king's musketeers, d'Artagnan, appeared in the King's office.
— Your Majesty, - said the captain and bowed to the King.
— Captain, go to Belle-Ile as soon as possible, said Louis. — You should, as discreetly as possible, familiarize yourself with the ongoing fortress construction work on the island. Compare how the outer part of the island, facing the sea, is fortified more strongly than the inner part, how the artillery is oriented, how effectively it can interact with the artillery of mainland France, and pay attention to the ports.
— I understand, Your Majesty, - answered d'Artagnan.
— Take with you as many people as you need to accomplish your mission, added the King.
— Your Majesty, am I to remain inconspicuous, or am I to carry out the capture or arrest of the rebels? asked d'Artagnan.
— You must remain invisible and preferably unrecognized, - Louis answered.
— In that case, I won’t need people, but money, - d'Artagnan reported.
— You may need people to ensure your safety, - Louis clarified.
— A sword is enough for this, - answered d'Artagnan.
— Fine, - The King agreed. “Ride, it will be faster.” I will issue you a written order to all government officials to provide every assistance to a royal officer traveling incognito and carrying this document. You will also receive two thousand rubles for travel expenses and incidentals. Take with you a reliable, unnamed rookie officer, and let him present this commission if necessary, but remain completely subordinate to you. You yourself are to travel incognito, presenting no documents, using only money. You may, at your discretion, pose as his servant or friend, or resort to money. Then tell me which of the two methods provided to you will be more effective.
— I understand everything, Your Majesty, - answered d'Artagnan. You will receive the most accurate information in the shortest possible time.
— You will receive two thousand pistoles from Colbert, the document is ready, take it from the table, - said Louis. — I will eagerly await your report, d'Artagnan. This is a matter of national importance.
d'Artagnan clicked his heels, bowed and, grabbing the designated document from the table, left.
“Renaud,” he said to one of the musketeers he met on the road, “find d’Arlencourt and tell him that in half an hour he and I are leaving on horseback on urgent business.”
The musketeer nodded and hurried towards the barracks.
— Mr. Colbert! - the captain of the musketeers addressed the quartermaster of finance, whom he met almost immediately not far from the King's reception room. I have been ordered to receive two thousand pistoles from you.
— Take three just in case, - answered Colbert.
— Damn it, I like you! - exclaimed d'Artagnan.
— Upon your return, return the extra thousand back to the treasury, Colbert clarified.
— On these terms, I prefer to limit myself to the amount that His Majesty has determined for me, d'Artagnan replied disappointedly.
— But that doesn't mean you won't have to submit a report on your spending, Colbert clarified.
— I'm not good at writing, - d'Artagnan snapped. My business is swords, pistols, muskets. Now, give me the money!
— With this order you will receive the required amounts from Fouquet, - replied Colbert, taking an order from his sleeve cuff, entering the sum of two thousand pistoles and putting his signature on it.
— Does the Superintendent of Finance issue money on the order of the Intendant of Finance? d'Artagnan was surprised.
— What's bothering you? asked Colbert.
— It seemed to me that it was not he who obeyed you, but you who obeyed him, - answered d'Artagnan.
— So you think he will refuse you? Colbert was delighted. But this is the King’s order!
— Will you write in this order of yours that the sum is given to me by order of the King? d'Artagnan clarified. In that case, perhaps you're right, and Fouquet will give me the money. If he trusts your signature.
— He must trust my signature even without such a postscript, - Colbert replied coldly.
— So, if Fouquet refuses me, I will not be able to carry out the King’s order, and you will be to blame for it, - d'Artagnan answered even more coldly.
“If Fouquet refuses you, you will return to me and receive the required amount,” said Colbert.
— Listen, I have no time to play these games with you, said d'Artagnan with irritation. Couldn't such experiments be postponed until another time, when I'm not so rushed to carry out the King's orders? If you have the required sum, give it to me immediately. If you don't, I won't waste time returning to you for it. I'll travel at my own expense, and upon my return, I'll report to the King that you refused to carry out his orders.
— Why are you so angry, Mr. Captain? Colbert exclaimed in fear. How could you think that the intendant of the royal finances does not have two thousand pistoles?
— You yourself gave me reason to think so, Mr. Intendant of the Royal Finances, - d'Artagnan answered through clenched teeth.
"Damn it, thirty years ago I would have simply stabbed this scoundrel instead of wasting so much time negotiating with him!" thought d'Artagnan. I am becoming too lenient towards people, because I have seen scoundrels of all sorts and stripes during my long service!”

— Let's go, - said Colbert, regaining control of himself. On the way to the barracks, come see me, I will give you two thousand pistoles.
— Let's go, - answered d'Artagnan.
“That’s what we should have done right away,” thought d'Artagnan with irritation. How much time has been wasted in vain!

Chapter 217

"D'Herblay, I need your advice!" Fouquet exclaimed, entering my room. "The King has ordered the arrest of Liaudo and d'Emery."
— An arrest is not yet an investigation, an investigation is not yet a trial, a trial is not yet a sentence, and a sentence is not yet an execution, I answered philosophically.
— This time you are wrong, - Fouquet replied with a sigh. The investigation was conducted secretly under Colbert's direction, the trial has already taken place, also in secret, the sentence has been rendered, and I fear it will soon be confirmed! Perhaps, at this very moment, the King is approving their death sentence! Or perhaps the King's signature is already on this sentence!
— What are you going to do? - I asked.
— I am ready to do everything to save them! exclaimed Fouquet.
— This is right, - I agreed. — Do you believe in the success of this business?
— Unfortunately no, - answered Fouquet.
— And that's right, - I admitted. — So, we start from two correct premises and, therefore, of course, we will come to the correct decision.
— What is the right decision? Fouquet was surprised. After all, if we know that our attempts are doomed to failure, then there is no solution to this problem!
— On the contrary, if you know how to act and know how it will end, you will not make mistakes, I answered. Let me clarify. You're wondering why you're even trying to save your friends if you know in advance that they're all doomed to failure, right?
— That's right, d'Herblay, Fouquet agreed.
— So I will answer you this question, - I answered. If you know that it is impossible to save Liodo and d'Emery, and, by the way, their fate is fully deserved by them, since they are accused of exactly what they are guilty of, then do you think that there is no point in taking action to save them?
— I am powerless to change anything, - groaned Fouquet.
— In relation to the fate of Liodo and d'Emery, yes, but in relation to your other friends, that is what is important, and for their sake you must do everything possible and impossible to ensure that they are confident of your protection to the last possible moment, I explained. — If you do nothing today to save Liodo and d'Emery, you won't have a single friend left tomorrow. Go to all lengths for these two today, and tomorrow everyone else will sacrifice themselves for you. If your actions can't be effective, at least make them obvious to everyone.
— What do you suggest? - asked Fouquet.
— Let your brother, Abbot Fouquet, rouse his clients to demonstrate their readiness for rebellion, I said. — There's no need to build barricades, but you should go to the markets, stir up discontent among the people, arm them with some relevant slogans, teach them to chant some simple but catchy phrases—your people should be able to do that. Also, try to bribe the guards. Entrust this to some chatterbox, and let the sum offered for their rescue be such that all of Paris trembles.
— Two hundred thousand livres? asked Fouquet.
— Five hundred, - I answered. Seven hundred thousand. A million, after all.
— For one million three hundred thousand livres I bought the island of Belle-Ile! exclaimed Fouquet. Do you want me to pay a million livres for the rescue of Liodo and d'Emery?
— I don't want that at all, - I objected. These men weren't worth it even when they were above suspicion. Now that their guilt has been established and proven, I wouldn't give twenty pistoles wholesale for them. But I want all of Paris to talk about how Mr. Superintendent of Finance Nicolas Fouquet didn't spare a million livres to rescue his friends.
— What if the King finds out about this? Fouquet was horrified.
— The intention to help out friends is not a crime if it is not carried out, I answered. You have nothing to fear.
— What if the security agrees to this price? asked Fouquet.
— It is necessary that Paris learn about this sum only after Liaudo and d'Emery are executed.
— Is it really true that I can't do anything for Liodo and d'Emery? Fouquet asked in despair. Is it really true that I can’t do anything for them, not just for show, but in reality?
— You will go to the King and ask him to take care of the family of the condemned, - I answered. You will ask that the families of the convicted not be persecuted, and you will beg that their fortunes and titles be left to them.
— But, as far as I know, the court did not encroach on the fortune and titles of the convicted, answered Fouquet.
— But the Parisians don't know this, I answered. Therefore, if someone knows the purpose of your petition and compares it with the results, then all of Paris will be convinced that you have a strong influence on the King, that you and only you thought and cared for the families of the unfortunate, that you are the best, most reliable friend and protector of your clients.
— And what if the King answers me that I am asking for something that does not need asking? asked Fouquet.
— Ask for a private conversation, and when all the witnesses of your meeting have left His Majesty's office, offer the King your humblest apologies for not having identified dishonest officials in your ranks, and also ask how you can atone for your excessive trust, what important and difficult task the King will give you the opportunity to atone for your blunder and regain his full trust, - I answered. By the way, let your brother Fran;ois visit your house at this time and inform your guests and clients how deeply you are grieving over the misfortune that has befallen your two friends, and that you are taking all possible and impossible measures to save them.
 — Well, your advice is wise as always, said Fouquet. — I feel a little uneasy at the thought that I can do nothing to actually save these unfortunate people, but you are right that now we should think not about saving the doomed, but about saving all those who can still be saved.
— Quite right, Monsignor, - I agreed.

Chapter 218

— Have you come to plead with me for Liodo and d'Emery? asked the King.
— Your Majesty, let me speak to you in private, Fouquet answered humbly.
— Leave us, - Louis said to the secretary.
— Your Majesty, I do not in any way dare to doubt the veracity of the results of the investigation by the Chamber of Justice into the abuses of public servants at the local level, hastened to answer Fouquet as soon as the secretary left the office. The idea of creating such a Chamber is mine, and Cardinal Mazarin would have confirmed it if he were alive. Naturally, this Chamber must act under the direction and supervision of the Attorney General. But if it has already completed its investigations into the abuses of these two nobles, and if their report has already been reviewed and approved by Your Majesty, then, of course, I can only concur with this report and with the conclusions reached by the judicial commission regarding these nobles.
— Already done, - Louis clarified.
— Already done, Your Majesty, - Fouquet agreed.
— I have already approved the sentence for the punishment of the guilty, added the King. — Was there something you wanted to ask me about in connection with this matter?
— Your Majesty, I would like to apologize for not keeping an eye on the people under my command, answered Fouquet. Please accept my assurance that such a case is an exception and not the rule, for which I am ready to provide any evidence.
— That's wonderful, Fouquet, - the King agreed. I need your help.
"I see!" thought Fouquet. "I thought the King would realize he couldn't handle the financial affairs on his own and call me in three days, but it happened much sooner! "Well, I'll certainly accept the position of First Minister!"
— I instruct you to establish a Council of Commerce, whose members will include, besides you, Messrs. Jean-Baptiste de Colbert and Olivier d'Ormesson, the King said importantly. In fact, something similar has already happened. All you have to do is revive this Council so that it can function more regularly and effectively.
— Of course, if Mr. Colbert joins this council, it will work in a new way, Fouquet replied, meaning something completely different from what Louis heard in this answer.
"That damn Colbert has made his way here too!" Fouquet thought with annoyance. "Well, as soon as the King makes me first minister, I'll kick him out of all his posts! And that will happen, I suppose, very soon!"
— It's wonderful that you speak so warmly of Colbert, Louis said, either ironically or seriously. I believe he has as high an opinion of you as you do of him. Excellent, I think you'll get along well. But that's not all. Here's another assignment for you. I'd say a diplomatic mission, connected to your financial talents. You are to influence Charles II of England and his ministers. England must be persuaded to form an alliance with Portugal. You understand that we have established peace with Spain, but this does not mean France is interested in strengthening Spain. If its strength grows unchecked, it could again become a threat to us, and then even though the Spanish Infanta has become our Queen, this will not prevent a new war between France and Spain. We need a counterweight to the growth of Spanish power. An alliance between England and Portugal is very desirable to us. It is essential that Charles II signify this political course by marrying Catherine of Braganza.
— Your Majesty, I am a bad diplomat, - answered Fouquet.
— You must organize the execution of my will, - Louis retorted dryly. I do not require you to be a diplomat, I ask you to organize this matter with the help of those people whom you consider most suitable for this mission.
— I will do my best, Your Majesty, but I do not see a task for a financier in this diplomatic assignment, tried to object to Fouquet as gently as possible.
— How is it that you don’t see the use of your financial talents in a business that uses financial instruments as its means? asked the King.
— What financial instruments is Your Majesty talking about? Fouquet asked in surprise.
— Bribery, - Louis replied. I thought you were a master of this weapon of Cardinal Mazarin.
— I have heard something about this method, but I have never used it, - lied to Fouquet. But if Your Majesty orders, I will try to find people who can learn this method and use it.
— I did not expect and would not have accepted any other answer, the King replied, and if Fouquet had been more attentive, he would have caught the first notes of irritation that appeared in the voice of Louis XIV when talking to him.
But the King controlled himself very well.
— Go, Monsieur Fouquet, and carry out these instructions of mine, which, of course, do not relieve you of your usual duties, Louis said with extreme gentleness. " You could spend a million livres to bribe Charles II . It seems that's exactly the amount he wanted from Mazarin to regain his throne. And he got that amount from his father's secret hoard, the secret of which was revealed to him by the Comte de la F;re. If a million was enough for this undertaking , that sum should be enough to persuade him to do what we require."
“He needs me and he lets me know it,” thought Fouquet with pride. He'll call me to the post of first minister! He just needs an additional reason, and that reason must be the results of fulfilling these two orders!"
Very pleased with himself, Fouquet left the King and went straight to Vannes to meet me.
“D'Herblay, your advice was good, but as a result I received two orders from the King,” he said.
"At least one of them wasn't hard to predict," I said. "The king ordered you to set up a committee to investigate abuses?"
"It will be called the Council of Commerce," Fouquet clarified. "It must include me, Colbert, and d'Ormesson! This is a blow to my system."
“It is a victory, Monsignor, although a small one, since you have been entrusted with creating the Council, and you will be its chairman,” I said.
“I would be chairman in any case, because I am the superintendent, unlike Intendant Colbert, and I am also the attorney general.
"Don't you recall cases, Monseigneur, where a groom is entrusted with forming an army, and in such cases even marshals obey him?" I asked.
“If he is the King’s chief equerry, and if he receives the title of Duke and Constable, it is not so surprising,” said Fouquet, his voice slightly lowered.
"To receive any title from the King's hands requires exactly as much time as it takes the King to sign the patent," I replied. "And even less! He only needs to say his word, and from that moment his decision takes effect."
"You're right, d'Herblay, but this commission will have to start digging under me!" Fouquet objected.
"Digging under you, under your command, means digging only where there is nothing to dig," I said. "So, admit it, Monseigneur, the fact that you, and not Colbert, received this commission proves that you are still the leader in this secret struggle for the King. All you have to do is avoid making a fatal mistake. But you must not underestimate Colbert. If he has decided to destroy two of your men at the hands of the King, expect the next blow, which, at least by his calculations, will be more powerful. And remember that he is preparing a blow against you that he hopes will crush you. Always remember this, Monseigneur!"
"It is not fitting for a squirrel to fear a snake!" Fouquet replied with disdain.
"You place too much faith in the fables of your friend La Fontaine," I objected. "Snakes sometimes crawl up trees and invade squirrel nests."
"I'll tell Voiture to come up with some kind of fish or beef dish and call it 'colbert', we'll serve it at my receptions!" exclaimed Fouquet.
" It would be better if it were a Lenten dish, in keeping with Monsieur Colbert's character," I clarified. "Let it be a dish of beans with crackers and green seasoning."
"Agreed!" Fouquet replied with a laugh, his mood visibly improving.
"What's the second assignment?" I asked. "Probably to bribe someone?"
"D'Herblay, I believe you were present at this meeting!" exclaimed Fouquet. "You've guessed it again!"
"It's a test," I replied. "Colbert convinced the King that you solve many problems through bribery, and he decided to demonstrate to him in practice that you're a great expert in this field. So this assignment is a trap. If you do it perfectly, Colbert will declare you an expert in bribery, but if you don't fulfill the King's assignment... Well, you know what that means."
“What should we do?” asked Fouquet.
"I'll take care of it," I reassured Colbert. "What's the assignment?"
“It is necessary for Charles II to enter into a political and military alliance with Portugal and consolidate it with a marriage with Catherine of Braganza,” Fouquet replied and shrugged.
"An alliance against Spain?" I asked.
“Exactly,” Fouquet confirmed.
“It’s unrealistic,” I replied. “This alliance is not beneficial to England.”
"Bribing?" Fouquet reminded him.
"There's not enough money in the treasury, or in all of France, to turn Charles II down this path against his will," I replied. "But I can offer another option. Promise the King that you'll persuade Charles II to begin preparing for war with Holland, and to wage war against them no later than four, no, three years later. As for the marriage with Catherine of Braganza, you know that Charles II is the true grandson of your grandfather, Henry IV . After Lucy Walter, Elizabeth Killgrid, and Catherine Peggy, with whom he had four illegitimate children, he hasn't stopped in his gallant liaisons. Currently, his attention is focused on Barbara Villiers, with whom he seems to be expecting his first child. This great-niece of the Duke of Buckingham, once a favorite of our Queen Mother, won't let her slip! I think he'll have five or even six children with her, no less, and this relationship will last a long time. So Charles II will readily marry any princess who will tolerate his extramarital affairs. I will try to persuade Catherine of Braganza through some of my friends to make it clear to Charles II that she is no more foolish than Queen Margot and her mother, Catherine de' Medici, and so she will be no more of a burden to the King of England as a wife than Queen Margot was to Henry IV or Catherine de' Medici to Henry II .
"So, you consider this august marriage possible?" Fouquet asked.
"You can resolutely promise Louis XIV that we will arrange the marriage of Charles II with Catherine of Braganza," I assured Fouquet. "No later than May 1664. I undertake to arrange that."
"How much money will this venture require?" Fouquet asked with concern.
" Just a little," I replied. "To resolve this matter, I will need not so much money as other resources I already have. Some fifty thousand livres for current and unforeseen expenses would free my hands, but if this money is not provided, I will take it from other sources. But you may ask the King's consent to spend whatever sums you deem necessary for these purposes. Any sums received in excess of fifty thousand livres may be spent as you see fit."
"No, no!" exclaimed Fouquet. "I cannot betray His Majesty's trust! If you say this matter will require fifty thousand livres, I will not add anything to that sum beyond what is necessary to reward your personal efforts. Let's say I double that sum and ask His Majesty's permission to spend one hundred thousand livres on this commission. You will take half of that as a reward for your efforts."
"What a generous and honest soul! What crystal-clear honesty!" I thought. "And how sincerely it is said! If I hadn't known that Fouquet had siphoned off more than eighty thousand livres from the treasury for his own purposes, twenty-five of which had already been spent on the construction of the fortress at Belle-Ile, I might have believed him!"
"Monseigneur, you cannot afford to spend nothing on this matter, because if you do this work for free, the King will not trust you as a financier and will begin to suspect you of being a politician, which would be disastrous for you," I objected. "But for the Superintendent of Finance to ask the King's approval for expenses to bribe the King of another power for a sum less than a million livres is simply indecent."
Hearing the amount I named, Fouquet started and looked intently into my face.
"I guessed right, the King allowed him to spend a million livres on bribes!" I thought. "Of course, this sum was often mentioned as a means of restoring the throne to Charles II , but now that he has become King of England, this sum is no longer so significant for him; they forget about it!"
"Can I really stoop so low as to take a million from the treasury for a task for which a hundred thousand livres would suffice?" asked Fouquet.
"No, of course, your honor will not allow you to do that," I said with the most sincere expression, although inside I was itching to pour all the bitterness into this remark and deliver it as ironically as possible. "I offer you another option, Monsignor."
"I wonder what it is?" asked Fouquet.
"Suppose I told you this matter would require a million livres, you wouldn't be surprised, and you would agree to such an expense from the treasury?" I asked.
"Absolutely!" replied Fouquet. "I still believe that this matter could not be arranged for a smaller sum."
"Wonderful!" I exclaimed. "Then consider that I have told you exactly this price. Get a million from the treasury with the King's consent and give it to me."
"Have you become so mercantile, d'Herblay?" Fouquet asked with surprise and a certain coldness in his voice that revealed his disappointment in me.
" I'd like to fortify Belle-;le much more thoroughly than previously planned," I replied. "I've estimated the construction budget at five hundred thousand livres. But I'd prefer to double that amount. I'd like to improve the ports, meaning deepening the harbors and lining the shores with granite. I'd like to upgrade the artillery, increasing the stocks of gunpowder and cannonballs. Furthermore, I'd like to build another ship, the fastest in the entire Kingdom's fleet, and equipped with the best cannons, five on each side. All together, this will cost an additional seven hundred thousand livres."
“There are still two hundred thousand left if we subtract from the million these seven hundred thousand and the hundred thousand that we have allocated for your expenses in arranging the marriage of Charles II ,” answered Fouquet.
“Allow me to spend these two hundred thousand on some construction work at Vaux-le-Vicomte, in order to install there some architectural innovations that I will need so that you and I can surprise His Majesty with a very amusing surprise on those blessed days when he honors this castle of yours with his visit.
"But it's not fitting for me to invest public money in the improvement of my own castle!" Fouquet objected.
"Just look how scrupulous we are!" I thought. "He naively thinks I don't know how much money he's siphoned off from the treasury to build and furnish his castles!"
"I take that sin upon myself," I replied. "I promise you will incur considerable personal expenses for the King's reception at Vaux-le-Vicomte, which will ease your conscience, since you are essentially borrowing from the treasury the sum you will need to spend on the King, a sum that was achieved through the savings I will ensure for you through my personal administrative resources and connections. Consider it as if you have given me this sum for all three purposes combined—for carrying out the King's orders, fortifying Belle-Ile, and for organizing the festivities at Vaux-le-Vicomte—and do not attach any importance to how the portions of this sum are redistributed among all three.
"You are asking my permission, my dear d'Herblay, to spend on the King the very sums you saved through your own troubles," Fouquet finally realized. "Put that way, I have no objection to your request."
“Exactly so, Monsignor!” I replied.
"A lying, prude!" I thought. "There are people who brazenly steal from the treasury, and there are people who boast of their crystal honesty. I can't stand either one. But the most disgusting thing is when these two qualities combine in one person!"

Chapter 219

" Monseigneur, what a disaster!" exclaimed Bazin, bursting into my presence with a rudeness that surpassed even the manners he had possessed during his first few weeks of service with me, more than thirty years ago.
"What kind of misfortune has made you forget all respect?" I asked with a smile.
"Monsieur d'Artagnan is coming to see you!" Bazin exclaimed as loudly as if he were announcing the arrival of the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse.
"What's the big deal if my old friend decided to visit me?" I asked, although I was already beginning to suspect something was wrong.
“The fact is that he is traveling accompanied by a young musketeer, an officer,” Bazin continued.
"Why doesn't the captain of the king's musketeers take one of his officers as his escort?" I asked, surprised. "What do you find so unusual about that?"
"The fact is that the officer, by his posture and clothing, and by other signs, including the breed of horse and its harness, looks like a superior, while Monsieur d'Artagnan looks like either the officer's squire or a casual, temporary companion," Bazin explained his doubts. "They'll probably even split up soon and travel separately."
"It's a secret inspection," I replied. "You're right, Bazin, this meeting doesn't bode well for me. Thank you for the warning. I'll tell you what. I'm not here for anyone, and especially not for d'Artagnan. I'll write him a note. Keep a close eye on him. By the way, how did you manage to get ahead of him?"
"I think I got ahead of him only because he doesn't yet know exactly how to find you, whereas I know the shortest route to your house," replied Bazin. "I think he'll arrive very soon."
"Thank you, Bazin, go ahead," I repeated. "I'm no use to anyone."
But Bazin was mistaken in assuming d'Artagnan was heading towards me. His route lay further afield—to the island of Belle-;le. As soon as I realized this, I immediately ordered the men stationed at Belle-;le, specifically tasked with tracking down Colbert's spies, to keep an eye on him. They were instructed only to keep an eye on d'Artagnan, but under no circumstances to harm him. I gave no instructions regarding the officer accompanying d'Artagnan.
It turned out that d'Artagnan had visited Belle-;le incognito, inspected the island, and inspected the construction work being carried out there. Furthermore, he had met Porthos there, befuddling him with tales of his resignation and his journey, ostensibly for pleasure and to see old friends. The naive Porthos showed d'Artagnan maps of the island and the plans from which the work was being carried out. Porthos, in accordance with my instructions, passed these plans off as his own, but I had never expected the plans to fall into d'Artagnan's hands, so I hadn't bothered to alter the handwriting on the inscriptions. I have no doubt that d'Artagnan recognized my handwriting and realized that the plans were my own. Furthermore, Porthos had let it slip that I was now Bishop of Vannes, so he now knew where my residence was and how to find me there. But the warning I received from Bazin allowed me to gain time and prepare for my friend's arrival.
D'Artagnan, of course, with his tenacious memory, not only familiarized himself with the plans but memorized them so well that he could have sketched them all from memory. However, I have no doubt he managed to outwit Porthos and copy the most important maps while the giant slept. He also personally inspected the harbors of Locmaria, Bangos, and Sauget, and walked the coastline along the entire perimeter of the island. He discovered that the island had a population of 1,720 citizens, and that the fortress garrison consisted of twenty-three infantry companies. Fouquet, the de facto governor of the island, had at his disposal two high-speed warships, personally owned and assigned to the ports of Belle-;le. He hardly assumed that the main purpose of these vessels was to deliver cargo to the island.
Having ascertained everything he needed, d'Artagnan headed for Vannes and caught me by surprise, racing from the coast straight toward me, leaving Porthos and his horse half a length behind. Poor Porthos barely had time to prompt us where to turn and could barely keep up with d'Artagnan's spirited horse, which he had chosen from my stables, access to which he had gained courtesy of Porthos. My agents informed me of the results of d'Artagnan's journey around Belle-;le only an hour after I had already learned of it from d'Artagnan himself. They did provide a few more details, but that didn't change the essence.
When we met, d'Artagnan informed me that he had retired and decided to visit old friends. I was surprised that he had come looking for us on the island of Belle-;le, and also that he was dressed more than modestly. The cunning Gascon attributed these oddities to his desire to appear modest to avoid attracting the attention of robbers, and that he had accidentally discovered our location. Only Porthos could have been fooled by such tales, and even then, it was doubtful. D'Artagnan would have dressed more modestly to avoid attracting robbers? In that case, I would have been more likely to admit that what I saw before me was not d'Artagnan, but someone who, by some stroke of nature, bore a striking resemblance to him. D'Artagnan is not the kind of man to fear robbers, nor to dress in a manner unbecoming a nobleman and captain of the Musketeers simply out of modesty. That this was due to caution, or worse, cowardice, is something even the Pope himself would not have me believe, even if he had sworn on the blood of Christ! As for the chance information about Porthos and my whereabouts, I am prepared to agree only if it was aided by d'Artagnan's curiosity and persistence, persistent questioning, searching, and even a few pistoles given as an advance to innkeepers, servants, and other commoners willing to sell information for a small fee.
The cunning Gascon then tried to sell me the story that he'd been so carefully scouting the surrounding area because he'd decided to buy the salt marshes for salt production. He might as well have told me he was planning to invest his money in growing rutabagas in Australia or truffles in the Siberian tundra. He knew nothing about salt production, and the salt marshes along the coasts closest to Belle-;le couldn't produce a single ounce of salt; all they could extract there was salty mud. D'Artagnan had overlooked the fact that my ancestors were also Gascon, so his attempts to deceive me were as clear as day.
I made it clear to d'Artagnan that I was aware of his role in the restoration of the monarchy in England and the accession of Charles II of England.
"Where do you get such extensive information?" d'Artagnan asked in surprise.
"My friend, we servants of the Lord sometimes engage in small talk, and all the news that concerns my friends naturally remains in my not very tenacious memory simply because I have a keen interest in such information," I replied. "Like a lighthouse keeper, I do not set out on a journey through the waves of political events myself, but I watch other travelers with curiosity, especially if I know these people and love them."
Porthos shed a tear, but d'Artagnan did not seem so moved by my words.
“There were times when the four of us had no secrets from each other,” said d’Artagnan with a sigh.
"God be with you, my friend!" I retorted. "Even now, I have no secrets from you, unless you count the secret of confession, which a minister of the church is obliged to keep sacred."
"So be it," d'Artagnan reluctantly agreed. "I also have no secrets from my friends, except for information concerning the execution of Mazarin's orders."
“Mazarin has already appeared before Saint Peter in the hope that a place in Heaven is reserved for him,” I said, “but I believe Saint Peter has sent him to Hell to lick hot frying pans.”
"France is full of far greater scoundrels than Mazarin, and besides, it wouldn't be fitting for me to speak ill of my former lord," d'Artagnan replied condescendingly. "Let's meet at the cardinal's purgatory and talk about the living. You are now, as I see, one of Monsieur Fouquet's friends?"
“The Superintendent makes generous contributions to the needs of the church ministers, so I, as a servant of the Lord, am grateful to him for this,” I answered modestly.
"I believe you were of considerable assistance to Monsieur Fouquet in his affairs, since it was apparently through his efforts that you became Bishop of Vannes?" d'Artagnan persisted.
"The Lord's servants don't care about career advancement, dear friend," I replied. "The Lord Himself shows them their path; He alone decides who will serve Him on which path. I simply obediently follow His instructions, trying to perceive His signs and directions, listening to them not with my mind, but with my heart."
"Amen, my friend," d'Artagnan replied, and from his expression I could tell that, unlike Porthos, he didn't believe me one iota. "I am ready to admit that God helped you. From now on, to anyone who tells me that Fouquet helped you, I will answer that it is not true, that Monsieur Fouquet was merely an instrument in God's hands."
I decided it was best not to respond to this jab from my friend.
After dinner and a long conversation reminiscing about past affairs, I offered my friends a place to stay for the night, promising some entertainment in the morning.
Grimaud describes this episode in his forged memoirs, written in Athos's name, making me look like a fool. He writes that as soon as the light went out in d'Artagnan's room, I woke Porthos and persuaded him to ride to Paris to Fouquet with an urgent letter, insisting that he remain on horseback and make the journey in twenty-four hours.
In that case, he could cover the two hundred and eighty-five miles he'd have to travel, traveling twelve and a half miles an hour, in twenty-three hours and arrive at Fouquet's the following morning. But Porthos isn't the best messenger, weighing as much as two ordinary men. Besides, I could only dispatch Porthos after it was deep night and d'Artagnan was asleep. But old friends don't go to bed early when they meet for the first time in ten years! If we hadn't talked until three in the morning, d'Artagnan simply wouldn't have understood!
I'm certainly not as stupid as Grimaud thought. As soon as I saw d'Artagnan, I understood everything, excused myself to arrange dinner and wine, wrote a letter to Fouquet in a flash, and by midday had sent Bazin to Paris. Bazin is three times lighter than Porthos; I gave him the best horse and ordered him to change horses no less frequently than every four hours of a good trot, choosing the best horses money could buy without wasting too much time searching or haggling. In that case, at a speed of sixteen miles an hour, he would have reached Fouquet in eighteen hours—that is, he would have been there by six in the morning! That's exactly what I did.
Grimaud, like all servants, believes that Musketeers don't know how to handle horses! When you're in a hurry, the biggest fear is wearing your horse down! After all, if your horse dies under you, you'll have to walk to the nearest place where you can get a new one! And you'll have to buy not only a horse, but also a new saddle and harness—you can't lug those burdens on foot! I've never worn a horse down in my life, and all my Musketeer friends can say the same. I can only recall one such incident, involving a recruit who spent three days in the guardhouse afterward, which put him off treating horses that way for the rest of his life. So, instead of sending Porthos off at two in the morning, I sent Bazin off fourteen hours earlier. I did send Porthos, however, but only as a precaution, and I certainly didn't order him to gallop without rest and wear out as many horses as he could. I'm not so callous to my friend as to condemn him to such torment!

Chapter 220

Grimaud's further account of the events following d'Artagnan and Porthos's visit to me in Vannes does him no credit as a narrator, and would not do credit to the three of us as participants in these events if it were true.
Under Grimaud's lying pen, d'Artagnan appears too naive, which he never was, Porthos too stupid, and I appear as the most insidious deceiver who lies to his friend d'Artagnan for a whole day, first telling him that Porthos has allegedly gone duck hunting, then assuring his friend that Porthos has left for the island of Belle-Ile, after which I allegedly convince him to hunt a little more before lunch.
Everything here is a lie, and I am exposed as a scoundrel. After such a vile deception, I could not remain d'Artagnan's friend. Our friend is, of course, indulgent toward his friends, but not that much! He would forgive a refusal to answer a delicate question or an evasion, a little cunning, perhaps, but not such an obvious lie. He would not tolerate that. After that, any friendship between us would end. Besides, even if I had sent Porthos with a message to Fouquet at midnight, there would have been no need for me to so basely deceive my friend the following morning. I could simply suggest that Porthos might have gone hunting, or decided to return to Belle-Ile, but neither of these would be consistent and pass off as the truth. Besides, we all know Porthos very well. He would never have left for Belle-Ile without saying goodbye to us. Considering he hadn't seen d'Artagnan for ten years, Porthos wouldn't have inflicted such an insult as suddenly disappearing without saying goodbye. At worst, he would have written a letter. Incidentally, when I sent Porthos to Fouquet as a backup, I dictated such a letter to him and asked him to leave it on the bed where he slept.
By the way, I knew the only reason for leaving that d'Artagnan would have believed, and it was this explanation that I dictated to Porthos.
"Are you suggesting that I deceive our friend d'Artagnan with this note?" Porthos asked anxiously.
“Not to deceive, but to reassure, since, as you know, d’Artagnan loves you very much, and he will be very upset if he finds out that you have to ride all night long,” I answered.
"Why should he worry?" Porthos asked in surprise. "I'm not a boy, after all, and I can ride all night, all day!"
"He'll be afraid that in the dark the horse might step into a hole and fall," I replied. "In that case, you're in danger of falling to the ground, and if you suddenly hit your head on a stone, it could seriously damage your health."
"What nonsense!" exclaimed Porthos. "Surely you are not worried about such a trifling matter as the chance of me falling from the saddle due to the complete darkness and the excessive haste with which I ride."
I suddenly felt ashamed. I truly wasn't the least bit concerned about Porthos's safety or well-being; I only cared about my letter getting to Fouquet. Actually, that wasn't really all that important, since I'd sent Bazin to Paris fourteen hours earlier.
“ My friend, I am not worried about you only because I prayed for you, and the Lord gave me a sign that everything will be fine with you,” I answered, blushing for my lie.
"Then everything is clear," Porthos nodded cheerfully. "In that case, we will deceive d'Artagnan for the sake of his peace and well-being, since the Lord has given you no sign that everything will be as good with him as with me. Well then, I'm off."
And Porthos rode off on his strong horse into the thick darkness of the road towards Paris.
So when d'Artagnan looked into Porthos's bedroom and did not find him there, he discovered a note on the bed, which he brought to me to read aloud to me.
This note, which I dictated to Porthos, contained the following:

“My dear friends, d'Artagnan and Aramis!
I regret having to leave you so hastily. Yesterday morning I tried oysters and enjoyed them so much that I must have eaten too many. My body rebelled against the food, and I couldn't sleep peacefully for even ten minutes. Between the agonizing procedures of emptying my stomach of the remaining oysters, I had the idea of finding the oyster merchant and warning him never again to sell stale goods, or I would tie his hands behind his back, so that he could never again inflict such serious harm and such bitter insult on honest people guilty only of wanting a good meal. This idea pleased me so much, and was compounded by the consideration that perhaps, by delaying this conversation, I would miss the opportunity to save several innocent residents of Belle-;le, perhaps noblemen like myself, from a similar misfortune. So I decided not to postpone my lessons to the clueless shopkeeper and to hasten to admonish him at dawn, as soon as he opens his unblessed shop. We will meet again, I embrace you, and I greatly regret having spent so little time with d'Artagnan, whom I have not seen for so many years. Please send my regards to Athos and Raoul. Your friend, Porthos."

D'Artagnan had an astonishing gift for imitating the voices of his acquaintances. He began reading this letter in Porthos's voice, but by the second line, he had changed it so much that the new intonation and manner of speech seemed familiar to me, though I couldn't say where I knew them from. Only toward the end of the reading did I realize d'Artagnan was parodying me. He probably realized from the second line that the style of this note was completely at odds with Porthos's writing.
"What a fool I've been!" I thought. "I should have asked Porthos to write just five or six words!"

"This is undoubtedly Porthos's handwriting," said d'Artagnan, emphasizing the word "handwriting." "In this very handwriting he wrote his comments on the fortification plans over the very same inscriptions in another hand. But the style! It seems our good Porthos has borrowed the style of a prelate I know. My dear Aramis, if Porthos suffered from indigestion from the oysters he tasted at Belle-Ile, I fear the food here is not to my liking either. I think I'll go home, to be on the safe side."
From the look he gave me, I realized he had seen through all my tricks.
"If our immediate plans have diverged somewhat, my friend, that does not mean that I desire the fulfillment of my own plans more strongly than the fulfillment of yours," I said to d'Artagnan. "I ask you to forgive me for not being able to devote due attention to your affairs, since my own do not allow me to do so."
"That would be much fairer, Aramis," d'Artagnan said with a sigh of relief. "I understand that everyone chooses the ship in which they hope to reach their desired shores most quickly. If we find ourselves on different ships, let us wish each other a safe voyage, and even more so, let us hope that our paths do not cross so much that one of us is forced to attack and the other to defend."
After these words, he came up to me and sincerely hugged me.
I felt tears welling up in my eyes. There was nothing in the world more precious than this simple, friendly embrace. Even the beauties in whose arms I sometimes experienced bliss were not so dear to me, for their feelings for me were not as constant as our mutual friendship, cemented by shared victories, shared defeats, and shared perils.
"Take care of yourself, d'Artagnan!" I said. "I will not be consoled if something bad happens to you, and I will not forgive myself if it happens through my fault."
"I'm not really risking anything, since I'm only helping the rulers sit more firmly on their thrones," d'Artagnan replied cheerfully. "I'm far more worried about you, my dear friend! Shaking thrones is far more dangerous! Take care of yourself."
After this he firmly squeezed my hand and, as easily as a twenty-year-old, jumped into the saddle and galloped off in the direction of Paris.
"I make the same mistake every time!" I said to myself, unafraid of being overheard since no one was around. "Instead of being this man's ally, I'm building my own game that runs counter to his plans. It's time for me to end this. But no, not with the cards I hold now!"

Chapter 221

Grimaud's further confusion makes me both laugh and cry. Regarding the overworked horses, I've already expressed my bewilderment. How can one serve under the best of the musketeers, Athos, and still, after thirty-five years of service, fail to understand the subtleties of horsemanship? I conclude that, having read in the Comte de la F;re's library various adventure novels about how a horseman's haste always leads to his horse being overworked, Grimaud, who had never seen a horse overworked in his life, apparently decided that overworking horses while in a hurry is some special kind of chic for a wealthy horseman. It's tantamount to deliberately sinking the ships you're sailing on simply because you're in a hurry. Grimaud's fantasy that I rushed to Fouquet's in a carriage hoping not to let d'Artagnan get ahead of me is extremely foolish.
His fantasies about the corpses of eight horses that I supposedly encountered along the way are disgusting and ridiculous. But even more absurd is his claim that I supposedly encountered these corpses on the road through Tours. Why would Porthos, rushing to see Fouquet in Saint-Mand; or to Paris, travel via Tours when there was a much shorter route?
The distance from Vannes to Saint-Mand; via Le Mans is one league, or 290 English miles, while the distance from Vannes to Saint-Mand; via Tours is 126.5 leagues, or 362 English miles. Why, then, would Porthos have gone via Tours, lengthening his journey by exactly a quarter? I, traveling via Tours, could not possibly have followed in Porthos's footsteps, and therefore, even if Porthos had generously strewn his path with the corpses of exhausted horses, I would have encountered them only on the short stretch of road from Saint-Arnoux-en-Yvelines, a stretch that constitutes only one-twelfth of the entire journey. Since I had dispatched Bazin with the letter at noon and Porthos as a backup, there was no need for me to follow Porthos myself.
The letter, sent through Bazin, contained the following text:

"Monsignor!
Captain d'Artagnan of the King's Musketeers, who serves the King personally, visited Belle-;le incognito on the King's orders and with Colbert's knowledge. Taking advantage of my absence from the island and certain connections, and resorting to cunning, he not only familiarized himself with the construction of the fortifications on site but also studied and memorized the layout of all existing and under-construction fortifications. He will undoubtedly report this to the King, and very soon. Taking advantage of our long-standing friendship, I will detain him as long as possible, but not longer than seventeen hours from the dispatch of my messenger who delivered this letter to you. Please note that d'Artagnan will report to the King no later than twelve hours after you receive this dispatch. Take all necessary measures to ensure that the information Captain d'Artagnan has received cannot be used to your detriment, even given the most unfavorable comments and interpretations from Colbert. I recommend that you prepare and be sure to carry with you a deed of gift, signed by you, by which you transfer the island of Belle-;le and all its buildings as a gift to His Majesty. In the event of accusations, which may be leveled at you at any moment, reply that you intended to surprise the King and present him with this deed of gift with as much ceremony as possible."

Of course, the letter was encrypted with the cipher known to Fouquet, and, moreover, it was written on the finest rice paper from China. Bazin was ordered to swallow this letter in case of the slightest danger, and I briefly communicated its contents to him for this occasion.
I provided Porthos with a more detailed letter, explaining all the dangers of the situation. I pointed out to Fouquet that d'Artagnan hadn't used any documents confirming his authority, making his trip extremely unlike a routine inspection. Since the trip was secret, and d'Artagnan even attempted to pass himself off as a small merchant, concealing his noble rank and true identity. Only chance betrayed him when he encountered Baron du Valon on the island. This forces me to take my first letter very seriously, so I recommend that you prepare to voluntarily part with the island, making it a gift to the King.
Grimaud writes, completely without basis, that I spent four hours less on the journey in a carriage than Porthos did on horseback. If that were true, Porthos would be considered a completely useless horseman, and the man who uttered that thought would probably be lying for the last time in his life.
D'Artagnan could easily have covered the same distance I covered in the carriage on horseback, eight hours faster than me, but he could hardly have done it twelve hours faster than Porthos, or twice as fast. To do so, he would have had to travel twenty-five English miles per hour, or one league in eleven hours. To do this, he would have had to ride the best mounts, changing them every half hour, or even more often. This is impossible without prearranged arrangements. As an experienced horseman, d'Artagnan likely covered the distance in no more than sixteen hours, in which case he could have made do with one well-trained horse, without wearing it out, or at least made one or two changes of mounts on the way from Vannes to Saint-Mand;.
Now I'll tell you why I went through Tours.
Having taken care to warn Fouquet, I was in no hurry to see him. I also needed to ensure my own safety. After all, if Fouquet were arrested, anyone who called themselves his friend would automatically be at risk. I couldn't afford to be arrested unexpectedly, with my papers falling into the hands of Colbert's detectives. Of course, I had carefully guarded my most important papers; finding and deciphering them wouldn't be easy. But anyone anticipating danger remembers that some documents are best hidden more securely, and others destroyed entirely. After all, some documents have to be kept close, within easy reach, because they need to be handled. You can't just hide every single piece of paper in a cellar, the entrance to which is concealed by facing stones and slabs!
If I'd only burned the papers I had on hand, it wouldn't have taken more than half an hour. Sorting them, hiding the most important ones as securely as possible, and simply destroying the most dangerous and less important ones, required those same eight hours, which explains my delay in leaving after Porthos. But I wasn't heading to Fouquet, and I wasn't in a hurry to warn him, as I'd already done twice before. I was heading to the Duchess of Chevreuse, wanting to visit more than just her. Frankly, my feelings for Marie herself had cooled considerably by this time, but we were still friendly, though mutual love was no longer an option.
We had a daughter together.
Charlotte Marie of Lorraine was born in 1627. At one point, she was destined to marry the Prince de Conti, and I had almost completely calmed down about her. But during the Fronde, Marie began to use her for her own ends, making her the mistress of Paul de Gondi, Cardinal de Retz, for whom she herself felt a strong attachment—perhaps it would be more accurate to call it love, if such an attachment hadn't been bestowed upon too many noblemen. During the Fronde, my daughter, Charlotte Marie, played a very significant role in the unfolding events, as she exerted considerable influence over Paul de Gondi. I must say right away that I didn't use her to persuade Gondi to sell Belle-;le Fouquet; I acted through other channels. Charlotte Marie had no idea that I was her father, and that crushed me. I couldn't influence her fate or help her in any way. In the end, she never married.
Marie forbade me to call her my daughter or even consider her my daughter, but one cannot forbid the call of blood to direct one's attention to the one in whom one sees one's future continuation. I could have left our daughter alone if I had been satisfied with the position she occupied in society thanks to her mother's position and efforts. But matters were dire, and I could not forgive Marie for using our beautiful daughter to continue her intrigues. Instead of a successful marriage worthy of a duchess's daughter, she was awarded merely the share of the mistress of Coadjutor Paul de Gondi. And I take no joy in the fact that this upstart has achieved a cardinal's hat. Better to be the legal wife of a baron than merely the mistress of a cardinal. I came to try once again to influence my daughter's fate. I brought Marie twenty thousand livres for Charlotte Marie. It was my gift, which I wasn't even allowed to give her personally. I asked Maria to give her the money as a gift from an unknown patron. Maria was cruel to me, because she could have made me Charlotte Marie's godfather, and then I would have been free to see her and give her gifts on her name day.
"Why are you denying me the honor of being her godfather?" I asked Maria when our daughter was a week old.
“You understand perfectly well, Ren;,” she replied.
"Does this mean you acknowledge me as her father?" I asked.
"I thereby recognize you as not a member of my family," Maria snapped. "You are my friend, my lover, but you will never be part of my family."
That was the first time I called Maria cruel.
"Do you wish me to destroy myself in order to give you the joy of communicating with this little angel?" she asked. "Isn't it enough for you to know that she will be happy, that she will be a duchess, that a great destiny awaits her?"
Then I kissed Maria's hands and asked for forgiveness. Had I known then that Maria's "great destiny" was to be the mistress of the damned Gondi, I probably would have committed some kind of violence against this fallen woman; I would have torn Charlotte-Marie from her motherly care, which pursued only selfish goals.
So, I visited Tours and brought Chevrette a small gift for Charlotte-Marie. After all, I couldn't see her while visiting Gondi's house!
“That is, of course, quite a lot for a gift from the Chevalier d'Herblay, but, alas, too little for a gift from the Bishop of Vannes,” said Maria with a smile.
"Bishops are not accustomed to give gifts to secular women who are not their relatives," I replied. "Servants of God do not distribute gifts, but receive them for Our Lord. If she were my goddaughter, even then I could not give her more, since at the present time I simply have no other means."
"Isn't Monsieur Fouquet helping you?" the Duchess asked in surprise.
“Mr. Fouquet has no reason to give me money,” I answered dryly.
"But you're on friendly terms with him, aren't you?" the Duchess persisted.
"I've seen him a few times, I think," I replied, "but we're not friends, and barely even know each other." "You're wasting your time on some dubious rumors."
"Come on, Ren;, who are you kidding?" Maria said languidly. "You don't help strangers become bishops of one of the finest dioceses in the kingdom."
"Ah, these rumors always distort everything," I said with annoyance. "I only occupy this position temporarily, since, as you yourself know, I am more of a musketeer than a priest."
"You are both, and yet neither," the Duchess retorted. "And I'm not at all sure that Fouquet is a more influential man than you."
"That's settled," I said, as this conversation was beginning to irritate me. "I didn't come to see you, Duchess, to argue about this. I wanted to ask you what your relationship is with Monsieur Colbert."
"With Monsieur Colbert?" the Duchess asked in surprise. "Why do you ask?"
"I heard that you are planning to marry him," I said. "One of his daughters, Jeanne-Marie-Th;r;se Colbert, is going to marry your grandson, Charles-Honor; d'Albert de Chevreuse."
"Do you see what's happening?" the Duchess exclaimed. "Just now you reproached me for using unverified rumors, and now you yourself have taken this fantasy from somewhere and are telling it to me!"
"Well, fine, so be it," I agreed. "You forbade me to tell the truth, you forbade me to think about it, but Charles-Honor;, he is my grandson too."
"Do you consider Louis-Charles your son, Ren;e?" asked the Duchess.
"He was born on December 25, 1620," I replied. "In March 1620, you and I were very close, as were, incidentally, in February and April. At that time, you assured me that you had long since separated from your then husband, the Duke de Luynes."
" Who knows what I assured you of!" Maria exclaimed. "I myself don't remember anything about all these things!"
“But I remember,” I said, feeling hurt.
"You shouldn't remember what shouldn't be remembered," the Duchess snapped harshly. "Do you think you have any rights to my children and grandchildren? For what reason?"
"I believe it would be pointless for the Duchess de Chevreuse to become related to Jean-Baptiste Colbert," I said coldly and firmly. "I advise you to heed my recommendation, madam."
"As you wish, Ren;e," the Duchess lied. "I am ready to obey you as a clergyman."
Her tone in conversation with me changed so abruptly that I didn’t have time to figure out what exactly made her go for peace.
“You are angry with me, but I have information for you that will certainly be useful to you,” she continued.
"What does this information consist of?" I asked, trying to hide my interest, but knowing from experience that Chevreuse's information was always important and reliable.
"Do you remember the Arlencourts of Dampierre?" she asked.
“I don’t know any such,” I replied, although I remembered that one of the Arlencourts had recently joined the company of the king’s musketeers.
"Then you probably won't be at all interested in the fact that young Arlencourt recently attempted to make an official inspection of Belle-;le," the Duchess said casually. "Well, since you don't remember him, it probably won't interest you at all."
"On the contrary, I seem to recall a certain Arlencourt," I said. "This young man, it seems, joined Captain d'Artagnan's company of musketeers, and everything concerning d'Artagnan interests me exceedingly. Continue, I beg you."
"Weren't you the one who said I was relying on unverified rumors and filling my head with anything and everything?" the Duchess said in a tone of wounded pride. "This information, I believe, can also be classified as unverified rumors, so I will not be the one spreading such dubious fantasies."
"I beg you, Duchess, for the sake of our friendship, tell me what you know about Arlencourt's journey," I said in as gentle and friendly a tone as I could muster.
"Friends don't exchange rumors and gossip," the Duchess objected, waving her hand. "It's all empty. So what did you want to tell me about Colbert?"
"That can wait!" I cried impatiently. "Please, Maria, what's wrong with this Arlencourt?"
"For the sake of friendship?" the Duchess repeated, jutting out her lower lip in disdain. "Fie! I don't believe in friendship between a man and a woman. Especially if there was something between them."
“Maria, for the sake of our love, tell me everything,” I said and kissed the Duchess’s hand.
“ That’s how dryly men kiss the hands of their mothers or mothers-in-law,” Maria answered contemptuously and freed her hand from mine.
Then I pressed myself to her neck, chest, and then to her lips.
"Henri, do you still love me?" Maria whispered.
“Can words be better evidence than kisses?” I asked.
"No, your words can never serve as any kind of evidence," Chevrette exclaimed, laughing as heartily as she used to in the days of our youth. "I don't believe you, but you're twisting me around your finger, Henri."
This was a good sign. Maria called me by my middle name, Henri, only when she was very excited and in a good mood. Otherwise, she called me Ren;e, or even d'Herblay, or something even more formal.
“Your Henri is listening to you with attention, my Maria,” I said.
"I don't believe you one bit, but that's not important," Chevrette replied. "Listen now. Young Arlencourt arrived on the coast and demanded to be transported to Belle-;le on a warship. At the port, he presented a document stating that he was carrying out His Majesty's orders, and that all government officials were ordered to render him every assistance and obey him.
“Okay, okay, go on,” I said.
"They gave him a hard time," the Duchess replied curtly. "First they sent him to the harbormaster, then the harbormaster inquired about Arlencourt's rank and position, then said the order had to be registered with customs, since the ship might be heading not to the island, but beyond French territory."
"In other words, they didn't let him onto the island?" I asked.
"They let him in, but he spent two days trying to get there!" the Duchess exclaimed with a laugh. "And when he finally arrived on the island, he was immediately surrounded by some intrusive officials who tried to show him only what didn't interest him at all, and not what interested him most."
"What interested him most?" I asked, feeling a shiver run down my spine.
“Of course, fortifications, ports, powder magazines, guns, cannonball stocks, the number of soldiers and officers in the garrison, their names and ranks, as well as the plans for the fortress under construction,” the Duchess answered.
"Did they show him the drawings?" I asked.
— He received the answer that since the construction was actually already finished, only some finishing work was being carried out, the drawings had been sent to Mr. Fouquet, so there was no way to show them to him.
"A horse!" I exclaimed. "Your best horse, Duchess!"
"You're going to ride?" Chevrette asked in surprise. "If you want to go to Saint-Mand;, you'll arrive at night! Why would you want that? Take my carriage, drawn by a pair of excellent trotters. My carriage is light and comfortable, and it will get you there reliably by eight o'clock in the morning."
" Duchess, you are a delight!" I exclaimed, kissing her cheek again, then her lips. "Please forgive me for leaving you in such a hurry. I will return in a day or two and return your carriage and horses to you!"
"To chat with me a little longer than today?" the Duchess asked with a smile.
“Longer, much longer, Maria,” I agreed.
"Very well, though I don't believe you, Henri," the Duchess replied. "If your plans change, simply send me the carriage with Jean-Luc, my coachman. You haven't had time to dine; I'll have a basket of food brought to you in the carriage."
“I eat very little, Maria,” I said, “but thank you all the same.”
"And there will be only what you like," Maria said with a smile. "A little Burgundy, a wheel of cheese, home-baked bread, a couple of roast chickens, and some fruit and vegetables. That would be enough for one light breakfast for Monsieur Baron du Valon, but you'll have enough for the whole journey."
"Thank you, Maria!" I exclaimed. "I promise to return your carriage to you personally no later than three days later."
“Don’t rush, let it be four days, you have a lot to do in Paris,” Maria answered.
"What a woman!" I thought. "Sometimes it seems to me she doesn't care whose side she's on, as long as she can act, as long as she can influence the events unfolding around her! But what about Colbert! I thought he'd sent only d'Artagnan, but he's organized a double inspection! Now d'Artagnan will report that money and personal connections provide faster, more complete, and more reliable access to Belle-;le than His Majesty's orders! That's tantamount to admitting that Belle-;le is preparing to secede from royal authority. That's a death sentence for Fouquet!"

Chapter 222

As soon as I arrived in Saint-Mand;, I went to see Fouquet. Upon learning of my arrival, he dismissed his clients from the meeting he was holding and came out to greet me.
"Thank you, my dear monseigneur, for your kind warning about Captain d'Artagnan's inspection trip to Belle-;le," said Fouquet. "I will be on my guard, and at the slightest sign of danger I will find a reply to His Majesty. But since there is no danger yet, you would, of course, like to rest and dine after your journey?"
"Danger has already entered your home, Monsignor, and has you by the throat!" I objected. "You must act immediately!"
"What are you talking about!" Fouquet objected. "I made no secret of the fortification of Belle-;le! This work was approved by Mazarin; I have his signature on the plan, along with the word 'I approve,' on the accompanying letter! I am in no danger whatsoever!"
" Monseigneur, if you believe that Captain d'Artagnan alone came to inspect you incognito, then you are mistaken, just as I was mistaken until I learned that this was only one aspect of Colbert's insidious plan!" I objected.
"Colbert! Colbert! This Colbert again!" Fouquet exclaimed with a grin. "What's wrong with this Colbert? After all, he's my subordinate! He's obliged to do what I tell him. Tomorrow I'll order him not to interfere with the defense of the kingdom's borders!"
"You are mistaken, Monseigneur," I objected. "Colbert reports not to you, but to the King personally, and the trip of Captain d'Artagnan, acting unofficially with the help of money, was accompanied by the official trip of a young officer named Arlencourt, unknown to anyone!"
"What of it?" asked Fouquet, slightly wary.
"The fact is that Monsieur Arlencourt had a document signed by the King, ordering all government officials to assist him on his journey," I continued. "This document, in the name of the King, demanded the unconditional obedience of all those whom this officer deemed necessary to use for his mission. They were all to render complete obedience to this officer, who represented nothing less than the authority of the King himself."
"And what does this mean?" Fouquet asked in bewilderment.
"The King, as you know, declared after Mazarin's death that he had no intention of sharing his power in the kingdom with anyone," I reminded him. "He said he would personally sign documents that would regulate all relations within the state in his name. A document bearing the royal signature, his seal, and the attesting signature of Chancellor S;guier is the highest state act in the kingdom. Any citizen who disobeys such a document is a rebel. A commoner can be hanged for such a thing, a civil servant can be executed, according to his noble rank—that is, by beheading. The disobedience of one civil servant is the mortal guilt of that civil servant. But disobedience of the royal decree of an entire island is the guilt of the island's governor, or its owner, if you prefer. Belle-;le belongs to you. The disobedience of the officers of the Belle-;le garrison to the King is rebellion!"
“I’m dead…” Fouquet whispered.
"Have you prepared the paper stating that you are presenting Belle-Ile as a gift to His Majesty, as I asked you?" I asked.
“I thought it wasn’t urgent, and I confess I haven’t prepared this document yet,” Fouquet replied.
"Madman!" I exclaimed. "Prepare this document immediately and go to the King with it! I hope you'll still have time to overtake d'Artagnan, although I confess there's no basis for such hopes! He flies faster than a bird! Especially when he's carrying out the personal orders of the King or the Cardinal!"
" But to give up such a beautiful island! As a gift! To lose such a wonderful fortress! After all, Belle-Ile has one thousand seven hundred inhabitants, including the garrison!" Fouquet lamented ruefully.
"As you wish," I replied. "If you don't do this, after your officers have unanimously disobeyed the King's orders, you have two choices: confess and repent, explaining it all away as a misunderstanding and demonstrating to the King that Belle-;le was never intended to support rebels against the King, or declare war on Louis XIV and retreat to Belle-;le, where you can hold out against the royal army like La Rochelle for a week, a month, maybe six months. But you can't sit there forever! Your Belle-;le won't hold out against the royal army anyway!"
"You're right, d'Herblay!" exclaimed Fouquet. "Better to lose the island than to defy the King! Better to lose the island than my head! Perhaps the King will refuse my gift, as he refused Mazarin's dying gift! After all, he didn't accept forty million livres from Mazarin! And Belle-Ile cost me one million three hundred thousand, and I spent five hundred thousand on its reconstruction, the construction of the fortress, and the fortification of the shores. If the King rejected forty million livres, would it be logical to also reject real estate worth less than two million livres?"
"Don't count on it, monseigneur," I objected. "This island is more important to the kingdom than Mazarin's forty million. Money is just metal, and an island off the coast of a state that can defend itself autonomously against an external enemy and against an internal one is worth far more than some thirty million livres. The King will accept this gift, but you must ensure that he appoints you commander of this island; then it will essentially remain in your hands. But first, there's something we need to do. You do have the plans for the fortifications, a second copy?"
“Of course there is!” Fouquet replied.
"Have the general plan urgently redone so that the walls facing the mainland are lower and thinner than the walls facing the ocean!" I said. "Furthermore, have all the cannons in this plan placed on the outer wall facing the sea, along with a few on the sides to guard the strait between the island and the mainland. And not a single cannon in these plans is pointed at the mainland, at French territory! We will insist that these plans are a control copy, and we will challenge the plans used to build the fortress as erroneous. We'll blame it all on the draftsman's error."
"But the construction is almost complete!" exclaimed Fouquet.
"The builders aren't to blame, since they were given the wrong plans," I replied. "And the draftsman... Have any of your minor noblemen, your clients, died recently? This year?"
“I’ll make some inquiries,” said Fouquet.
" Blame it all on the dead man; the dead are no savior," I said. "But that can wait. Write the deed of gift quickly and go immediately to the Louvre, to the King!"
"Coming, coming!" exclaimed Fouquet, heading for his office, waving his hand at his secretary to follow him to draw up the deed of gift.

Chapter 223

When Fouquet arrived to see the King, he had to wait, as the King was busy conferring with Colbert. The secretary, knowing that Fouquet was a more important figure than Colbert, took the liberty of informing Louis of the Superintendent of Finance's arrival.
"Tell Monsieur Fouquet that I will see him in three minutes," the King replied to the secretary. "So, Monsieur Colbert, are you proposing to demand a million livres from Fouquet for the wedding of Philippe and Henrietta of England?"
"Your Majesty, our position requires us to organize this celebration at the highest level," Colbert replied. "Politics is more important than economics in this case."
"After all, this is the very same sum Charles asked me for to regain his throne," Louis said thoughtfully. "I had to refuse him because I didn't have that kind of money. Now, do you think we can afford to spend that amount on this celebration?"
“Not only can we, but we are obliged to, Your Majesty. I have calculated all the expenses and crossed out absolutely everything that could be done without,” Colbert replied.
"Will you provide me with this sum, Colbert?" asked Louis.
"Unfortunately, there are difficulties with that," Colbert replied, blushing. "The funds under my control have already been almost completely allocated by Your Majesty for the most urgent expenses, while the funds under Monsieur Fouquet's control have not yet been fully allocated. For this reason, I would recommend requesting this sum from Monsieur Fouquet."
"Are you suggesting we ask him for his personal finances?" Louis asked in surprise.
"I'm only talking about that portion of the state's funds that are under his personal jurisdiction," Colbert clarified. "Monsieur Fouquet, of course, has his own personal funds, but as Superintendent of Finance, he also controls significant treasury funds."
“I hope he doesn’t confuse these two sources of money, although they are both under his control,” Louis said thoughtfully.
"We all hope so, Your Majesty," Colbert replied. "The Chamber you created, after a detailed investigation, will give you a precise and detailed answer to this question soon."
"Good," the King replied. "So, are you sure of what you told me recently? Did Fouquet really spend not only his own money, but also some of my treasury funds, on fortifying Belle-;le?"
"I'm certain of it, Your Majesty, and the exact amounts will be given to you very soon," Colbert replied. "The amount I mentioned earlier is the lower estimate, which I can vouch for with my life."
"Don't be so quick to pledge your head, Monsieur Colbert," the King objected. "We'll need your head later. Go now, but after I've spoken with Monsieur Fouquet, I expect you. Come back in an hour. I think that will be enough to ensure you don't cross paths with him; I'll let him go early, no matter what he comes to me about. Have Monsieur Fouquet brought to me."
Colbert bowed and left, but immediately returned.
“Your Majesty,” he said, “Monsieur d’Artagnan has arrived to see you.”
- Tell Captain d'Artagnan to come to me after I ring the bell, and now invite Monsieur Fouquet to me.
Colbert bowed again and left, followed almost immediately by Fouquet who entered the King's presence.
“Your Majesty, I have come to report that the work on fortifying the fortress of Belle-Ile has been completed,” Fouquet said solemnly.
"For what reason were these works carried out?" asked the King.
"By order of Your Majesty's first minister, Cardinal Mazarin," Fouquet replied. "Allow me to show you a plan of the fortifications. The cardinal's signature is here."
With these words, Fouquet unfolded a plan of the fortifications of the island of Belle-Ile on a small table.
"Are these fortifications intended to strengthen our kingdom's maritime border?" the King asked.
“Exactly so, Your Majesty,” Fouquet agreed.
"And from what enemies will these fortifications help us defend ourselves?" the King continued his interrogation, pretending that the matter didn't bother him too much.
"Our borders from the sea could be threatened by Spain, France, Holland, and Portugal," Fouquet replied. "It's enough to recall how dangerous England's attempt to intervene in the military campaign of your august father, King Louis XIII , against the rebels of La Rochelle proved to be to appreciate the need to fortify such large islands, which belong to us and represent outposts of our coastal borders."
"Belonging to us, you said," Louis clarified. "The island of Belle-;le, it seems, once belonged to the Gondi family, but you recently acquired it and began fortifying it, is that correct? When you said the island 'belonging to us,' you meant your family? After all, this island belongs to you, Monsieur Fouquet?"
Fouquet felt sweat break out on his neck. He'd wanted to first scout out the situation and heed Aramis's advice to present Belle-;le as a gift to the King only if the situation was hopeless. Now he sensed from the tone of the conversation and the King's clarifying questions that Louis XIV was extremely sensitive about the fortification of the border island without his knowledge. Fouquet decided to make one last move to reassure the King about the island and try to keep it for himself.
"Look at this plan, Your Majesty," Fouquet said, pointing to the fortifications. "The thickest and highest walls are built on the outer side of the island, emphasizing its purpose: defense against an external enemy from the ocean. My garrison will be the first to bear the brunt of any external threat."
"Your garrison, Monsieur Fouquet?" the King asked. "Which garrison of yours are you talking about? Do you have a military position?"
"I misspoke, Your Majesty," Fouquet said, embarrassed. "Since the island's fortresses are complete, the people there—the common folk, the peasants, and the artisans—are beginning to feel a certain sense of belonging. A garrison will be needed to maintain these fortifications. A garrison of Your Majesty's army, completely subordinate to Your Majesty's orders. Your garrison, Your Majesty, will be stationed on the island."
“Very well, Monsieur Fouquet,” the King said softly.
Fouquet sighed with relief and wiped his neck with a handkerchief.
Meanwhile, the king rang the bell.

Chapter 224

"You called me, Your Majesty?" asked d'Artagnan, entering the King's office.
"Captain," said Louis, "before you is a plan of the fortress on the island of Belle-;le. Take a look at it; is everything reflected correctly?"
“Your Majesty, the fortress walls facing the open ocean, judging by the drawings, are planned to be stronger and higher than is actually the case,” replied d’Artagnan, “while the walls facing the coast, it seems to me, are shown here to be much less strong and higher than is actually the case.”
"I recently discovered this error myself!" Fouquet exclaimed. "I was about to send the engineer supervising the construction to the galleys, but he showed me the plans and was completely justified. It turns out the plans were flawed! I've already ordered rebuilding and additional reinforcement of the outer walls to correct this imbalance."
"But you just reported, I believe, that the construction of the fortifications is complete?" asked Louis.
"These works are in full swing and will be completed within two weeks at the latest," Fouquet replied. "We can consider them already completed."
"D'Artagnan, have you seen any work being done to further strengthen the outer walls?" the King asked.
“ Work is being carried out around the entire perimeter, and I cannot rule out the possibility that in two weeks the outer walls will be strengthened more strongly than the walls facing the mainland,” replied d’Artagnan.
"Tell me, Captain, how were you received on the island?" the King continued his interrogation. "Did they show you everything you wanted to see?"
“Since I was conducting the inspection incognito, in accordance with Your Majesty’s orders, no one received me on the island, except for one old friend, whom I accidentally found supervising the engineering work.
"Really?" the King was surprised. "So it turns out your old friend was in charge of the construction work? Do you have friends among the sappers and architects?"
"I have friends among the musketeers and barons," replied d'Artagnan. "The construction work was supervised by my comrade-in-arms, Baron du Valon, with whom we served together in Monsieur de Treville's company of musketeers."
"And if fate hadn't been on your side, if you hadn't met your old friend, would you have been able to carry out my mission?" asked the King.
"Your Majesty, I have never yet received a commission from my sovereign that I would not carry out," d'Artagnan replied. "One way or another, I would find a way, since the King's orders are law to me."
"That's excellent, Monsieur d'Artagnan," said Louis. "But, as I recall, I also instructed you to carry out one more task. How did your young and little-known musketeer, who carries orders to assist him in his inspection, handle the second half of the task?"
A shiver ran down Fouquet's spine. "This is it!" he thought. "What d'Herblay warned me about!"
“I didn’t meet him on the island of Belle-Ile, from which I concluded that it was more difficult for him to get to the island than for me, using money and friendly connections,” replied d’Artagnan.
"What are you saying!" Louis exclaimed. "An officer of the Musketeers, bearing an order signed by me personally, had any difficulty visiting this island? An island on which, as Monsieur Fouquet has just assured me, my garrison is located or will be located in the very near future?"
“Your Majesty, allow me to give you some explanations,” said Fouquet, who had turned pale.
"I not only allow it, I demand it," Louis replied. "First of all, tell me the name of the person responsible for the errors in the plans used to build the fortress."
“D’Emery,” Fouquet said firmly.
"D'Emery?" the King asked. "D'Emery, who was recently executed for embezzling public funds?"
“D’Emery, Your Majesty, I only found this out yesterday, and yesterday I ordered the correction of the errors in the construction,” Fouquet replied.
"Well, that scoundrel d'Emery got off easy," said the King. "It turns out he's guilty not only of embezzling the treasury, but also of tampering with the plans for the fortifications. And how do you explain to me the officer's difficulties in carrying out an inspection on my orders?"
“I wanted to surprise Your Majesty and therefore ordered that a certain secrecy be maintained around the completion of the construction,” Fouquet hastily exclaimed, inwardly blessing me for having the deed of gift with me.
"A surprise?" Louis asked with interest.
D'Artagnan looked at Fouquet's face with interest.
"Your Majesty, I intended to do this only after the deficiencies just mentioned have been corrected, but it seems better to do it right now!" Fouquet said, trying to make his voice as calm and solemn as possible.
With these words, he took out from his folder a deed of gift, drawn up according to all the rules and sealed with his signature and seal.
"What is this?" asked Louis, taking the document from Fouquet's hands.
"I beg Your Majesty to accept this modest gift from me," Fouquet replied. "On the very day I purchased the island of Belle-;le from Cardinal de Retz, I was already planning to fortify it and make it a reliable outpost to resist any aggression from any maritime power. This island was originally intended as a gift to Your Majesty, as only the King of France should hold the key to this part of the coast. God knows, I intended to present this document only after the last stone had been laid in the fortification, but Monsieur d'Artagnan's inspection revealed my plan to Your Majesty, so delay is no longer possible."
"You're giving me the island of Belle-;le?" the King asked in surprise. "How much did it cost you?"
D'Artagnan looked at Fouquet with admiration.
"Mere trifles, Your Majesty," replied Fouquet. "Apart from the price for which Cardinal de Retz sold it to me..."
"I believe that's one million three hundred thousand livres?" asked the King.
“Your Majesty is well informed,” confirmed Fouquet, who paid de Retz, in addition to the stated and widely known sum, two hundred thousand livres, not recorded in any documents.
"So how much did you pay for the construction?" asked the King.
“Your Majesty, I didn’t count, I simply agreed to pay for all the work that I considered reasonable,” Fouquet replied.
“Monsieur Fouquet, answer the question I asked,” Louis demanded insistently.
“One million six hundred thousand livres,” answered Fouquet, quite disingenuously.
"Apparently, your financial resources are now considerably weakened by these expenses?" the King asked worriedly.
“My job is to find financial opportunities and provide the necessary funds for Your Majesty,” Fouquet replied with a modest air.
" Speaking of needs, I wanted to know if you have a million livres to organize the wedding of Philippe d'Orl;ans and Henrietta of England?" Louis asked.
"I will provide Your Majesty with the requested million immediately, but it seems to me that this celebration will require a larger sum," replied Fouquet. "Tomorrow I will hand you over one million four hundred thousand livres, and in addition I will order Monsieur Colbert to give you the nine hundred thousand livres he owes me according to this document."
With these words, Fouquet presented the King with a promissory note in his own name, on behalf of Colbert, for the sum of nine hundred thousand livres.
"Thank you, Monsieur Fouquet, you are free to go," said Louis. "And you, d'Artagnan, I ask you to stay for one more minute."

Chapter 225

"Captain, do you now see how much I need you?" the King asked when Fouquet left the office.
"To spot the mistakes of the draftsman making copies of the drawings?" asked d'Artagnan.
"To expose those who attribute their malicious actions to draftsmanship errors or excessive zeal in preparing surprises for the King," Louis retorted. "Do you think Fouquet would have given me Belle-;le if not for your journey, which revealed these very interesting details about the island's fortifications and the obedience of local officials to my written orders?"
"I'm afraid to assume anything bad about people whose guilt hasn't been proven," d'Artagnan replied. "But the superintendent came to you with a deed of gift already in his possession!"
"It seems to me that he was in no great hurry to present this gift," the King countered. "He only decided to take this step when it became his only salvation from the grave charge of treason, don't you think?"
“I don’t dare argue with Your Majesty,” the captain of the musketeers answered delicately.
"Perhaps someone has already managed to warn him about the results of your inspection and your officer's parallel trip?" the King asked.
"I cannot rule it out, Your Majesty, since unforeseen circumstances detained me overnight," replied d'Artagnan. "Instead of setting out for Paris that same evening as soon as I arrived from the island to the mainland, I took the liberty of spending the night in Vannes."
"Did you have good reason for this, d'Artagnan?" asked the King.
"Only the hope of learning something more about Belle-Ile," replied d'Artagnan, who had decided not to inform the king of his desire to see his old friend. " But it seems the little information I was able to gather there was not worth the delay caused by my overnight stay."
"Aramis has fooled me!" thought d'Artagnan. "I shouldn't have called on him. But Porthos wouldn't have understood me, and in that case Aramis would have had the opportunity to accuse me of lying, since I told Porthos that I was looking for him and Aramis simply to see each other after I retired!"
“You spent the night with your friend the Bishop of Vannes,” said the King thoughtfully.
"My overnight stay in Vannes was necessary to support my story about my visit to Belle-Ile," d'Artagnan clarified. "After all, I traveled incognito, so I had to tell the people who recognized me that I simply wanted to see them."
"I don't blame you, Captain, and perhaps your trip even led to a simpler solution to the situation," the King replied. "Instead of untangling this Gordian knot, you cut it. Since Belle-Ile now belongs to me, it will house my elite garrison, who will remain loyal to me under any governor."
"Any garrison is, first and foremost, subordinate to the commander of the garrison, and the commander of the garrison is subordinate to the governor," d'Artagnan reminded him. "Monsieur Fouquet's generous gift implies that, as a token of your gratitude, Your Majesty will not immediately replace the governor, but will leave this post to the island's previous lord, Monsieur Fouquet. At least until such time as Monsieur Fouquet clearly offends you. Or at least until six months have passed since the gift was made—that is, from now on."
"You are right, Captain d'Artagnan," the King replied thoughtfully. "I am grateful to you for your observations and the conclusions you draw from them, as well as for your advice. However, can you answer me one question?"
“I will apply all the efforts of my humble mind to this, Your Majesty,” replied d’Artagnan.
"When Fouquet came to me, he said he had come to report the completion of the fortress on the island of Belle-;le, but some time later he admitted that the construction was far from complete, as errors had been discovered in the plans that had been incorporated into the construction, and they still needed to be corrected," Louis said. "So, the fortress is not finished. Furthermore, under pressure from the accusations, Fouquet presented me with the island and the fortress, but he himself admitted that he had planned to do this later, and I believe he had never intended to do so.
“It is quite possible, Your Majesty,” agreed d’Artagnan.
"In that case, I ask you, for what purpose did Fouquet come to me, and, judging by everything, arrived in such a hurry?" the King asked, looking intently into d'Artagnan's eyes.
"I can only assume, Your Majesty, that he came to act according to the circumstances," the captain replied. "And in this case, the report on the island's fortifications being completed was not only a pretext, but also a pretext for a conversation in which he wanted to find out how thoroughly you knew all the circumstances surrounding this island."
"In other words, he came to discover how deeply you had penetrated his plans and their implementation, Monsieur d'Artagnan, for it is undeniable that he knew of your journey!" said the King. "Thus, everything you discovered and communicated to me, partly in the presence of Fouquet himself, drove him to this decisive and desperate step—to give me Belle-;le and all its fortifications. Your journey was the reason this island and fortress became mine. You won the island for me simply by visiting it, Monsieur d'Artagnan!"
D'Artagnan proudly twirled his right mustache. Such praise greatly flattered him.
"Do you still find serving me boring?" asked the King. "Do you still consider yourself superfluous in the post you held? And you still insist on resigning? Was Mazarin so good to you that after him you don't wish to serve directly the man Mazarin himself served?"
“But, Your Majesty, I have already sold my patent for the position of captain-lieutenant of the king’s musketeers,” d’Artagnan said in despair.
"It doesn't matter," the King replied. "Didn't you notice I called you captain several times? I'm giving you a commission as captain of the king's musketeers. It's yours, here you go."
With these words, Louis XIV took from the table the patent, completely filled out, on which was already the signature and seal of the King.
"Captain!" the King said solemnly. "I ask you to forget the word 'retirement' forever. You will not retire except at my request, which I hope will never happen, for I know you well and am confident that you will not disappoint me. You received this patent from me as a gift, so you will not dare sell it. Unless, perhaps, I give you something better in its place. But that will still have to be earned. You are free today, Captain; I remember that you rode one hundred and twenty leagues without rest. Tomorrow at twelve o'clock you will report for new assignments."
D'Artagnan bowed, took the commission from the King, and left with a feeling of unprecedented lightness and elation. The last time he'd experienced such a feeling was when he'd received a commission as lieutenant in the King's Musketeers, also a gift, but from Cardinal Richelieu—a commission that hadn't included his name, which Athos had deliberately spilled wine on, feigning inadvertence, only to replace it the following day with a new one, obtained from de Treville and signed by King Louis XIII .
Exactly an hour after Fouquet arrived to see the King, Colbert arrived in Louis XIV's office.

Chapter 22 6

"Monsieur Colbert," the King said sternly, "an hour ago you told me you didn't have a million livres. But Fouquet informed me that you have nine hundred thousand livres, which belong to him."
"Exactly," replied Colbert. "This sum, belonging to Monsieur Fouquet, is temporarily in my possession, and I intended to return it to him at the first opportunity. I dare not refer to this sum as being in my possession."
"If I understand you correctly, Mr. Colbert, when speaking of the money at your disposal, you excluded from consideration the sum which, although at your disposal, actually belongs not to you, but to Mr. Fouquet?" the King clarified.
“You understood me absolutely correctly, Your Majesty,” Colbert agreed.
"That would explain everything except your recommendation that I turn to Fouquet for a million livres," the King continued. "You should have told me that almost the entire sum is in your possession, although it belongs to Monsieur Fouquet, so that instead of me asking him for it, you should have suggested that I ask Fouquet to hand over for this purpose the sum that is in your possession, but belongs to him. Since only a hundred thousand are missing for the million, I suppose you could offer me these hundred thousand from the treasury? Or is there not even that amount in the treasury entrusted to your care?"
“You are absolutely right, Your Majesty, I simply did not express myself clearly enough, and as a result, a misunderstanding arose,” Colbert stammered.
"Remember, Monsieur Colbert," the King said dryly. "If a petitioner comes to you and you don't understand them properly, it may be their problem, not yours. If you're communicating with a government official and you don't understand each other properly, that's your problem. But if you're speaking to your King and he doesn't understand you properly, then that's your problem alone, Monsieur Colbert. You must either express your thoughts in a way that I can understand you accurately, or you will never communicate with me again. Do you understand me, Monsieur Colbert?"
“Your Majesty, I am entirely to blame and will make amends from this very moment,” Colbert replied.
"Eliminate any ambiguity in your communications with me," the King concluded, "or you will no longer be my quartermaster." "How much money do you have that is not encumbered by any official obligations?"
“Eight hundred and fifty-three thousand livres,” replied Colbert, turning cold.
"Well, that's less than a million, which somewhat justifies your answer about not having a million livres at your disposal. "And if we take into account all the funds you have, including those whose expenditure has already been predetermined and planned in advance, how much money is in my treasury, that is, yours?"
“ Without counting the funds which I have already transferred to you from Mazarin’s secret reserves, and which for this reason I no longer dispose of, there are three million seven hundred and eighty-six thousand livres in your treasury,” Colbert said crisply.
"The greater part of this, as I see, has already been allocated to the most urgent expenses," said the King. "Bring me a list of the expenses for which these two million nine hundred and thirty-three thousand livres are intended in an hour."
“I have the list with me, Your Majesty,” Colbert said, taking a four-page document out of the folder.
“Very well, Monsieur Colbert, leave him, I’ll see to it,” Louis replied in a condescending tone, since Colbert had timely reminded the King of the millions Mazarin had given him. “I am pleased with you; you are free. However, wait. Monsieur d’Artagnan also informed me that my uncle, Gaston d’Orl;ans, has died. Poor uncle! The wedding will have to be postponed a little. But my uncle, without intending to, gave my brother a gift. Philippe will now be the Duke of Orleans. And for the wedding of Monsieur, who has also received the title of Duke of Orleans, a significantly larger sum will be required. Fortunately for you, Monsieur Fouquet has agreed to provide the remaining balance. That’s all. Go.”
After reviewing Colbert's list, Louis was forced to agree that all the items of expenditure were indeed among the most urgent and important, and he considered the amounts requested to be entirely justified.
Taking a pen from the table, he wrote in a sweeping motion, “I approve, Louis,” rang the bell, and handed the document to the secretary who had appeared.
"Tell this to Monsieur Colbert," said the King. "And invite Fouquet to see me again."

, Fouquet reappeared in Louis XIV's office . He had managed to change his clothes, refresh himself with the delicately scented Cologne water, and looked exceptionally attractive.
“Monsieur Fouquet, I am extremely grateful to you for your gift and I believe it would only be fair if you retain your functions as governor of the island of Belle-Ile, which you will govern from now on in my name.
"D'Herblay was right!" thought Fouquet. "I will retain de facto control of the island, and at the same time I will have escaped mortal danger, for if the King were to accuse me of treason, even the post of Attorney General would not have saved me!"
"I believe that entrusting the duties of the new garrison to the island's ordinary inhabitants would be unwise and burdensome," the King continued. "In a few days, I will instruct Marshal de Gramont to form and dispatch a full-fledged garrison to the island to guard the fortress, as well as to distribute and appoint his officers, including the fortress commandant, to the necessary positions."
"No matter, in a month or two they'll all be mine when Colbert delays their pay, and I'll pay them six months in advance from my own funds, and they'll certainly know the source of these sums," thought Fouquet. "D'Herblay is a thousand times right! It doesn't matter who's appointed, what matters is whose influence these newly appointed soldiers and officers will fall under!"
“If you have any objections to any officers, I will, of course, take your wishes into account,” the King continued.
"If he seizes this opportunity, it will prove the utter baseness of his plans," thought Louis. "He will probably want to retain his full influence over the garrison!"
"I have no objections, nor can I have any, to any candidacy of any officer from Your Majesty's army or guard," Fouquet hastened to assure the King. "Especially if the list of garrison officers is compiled by Marshal de Gramont. Furthermore, any decision of Your Majesty cannot be subject to any doubt on my part!"
"It was a trap!" Fouquet guessed. "The King still doesn't trust me!"
"But you would probably like some of your men to be included in the list of officers, wouldn't you?" asked Louis XIV .
"Baron du Valon, Your Majesty, supervised the construction and knows the fortifications like the back of his hand," Fouquet said rashly, deciding that it wouldn't hurt to add his officer to the garrison after all. "I can only recommend him highly!"
"Excellent, Monsieur Fouquet!" the King replied with a beaming smile. "Your recommendation is sufficient for this officer to be appointed deputy commandant of the fortress."
"The King trusts me completely!" Fouquet rejoiced. "I was wrong to fear a trap. This is sheer presumption! How can you consider me an enemy after such a magnificent gift?"
"I should remember that name," thought the King. "Baron du Valon. Probably some leader of the conspirators. I should make inquiries about him. Most likely, he should be sent to the gallows after the scoundrels Liaudo and d'Emery!"
“Monsieur Fouquet, I would like to remind you of two requests I have made,” the King continued.
“Your Majesty, regarding the creation of the Council of Commerce, I have drafted your decree on the creation of this council with a list of members of this council,” said Fouquet, taking this document out of his folder and handing it to the King.
"I see you've put yourself first," the King said, barely glancing at the document. "You intend to be chairman?"
“I thought that since I was entrusted with creating this council, I should preside over it,” replied Fouquet.
"If your council uncovers any violations, it will write to the Prosecutor General," Korol clarified. "Why are you writing letters to yourself?"
“In that case, the letter will be signed by the chairman’s assistant, who will certainly be Mr. Colbert,” Fouquet replied.
" Well then, so be it," the King agreed. "Do you have an equally excellent result for my second request?"
“I can absolutely promise Your Majesty the marriage of Charles II with Catherine of Braganza no later than May 1664,” replied Fouquet, completely relying on my promise.
"Do you have a clear plan for achieving such a brilliant result?" the King asked in surprise.
"I have a plan that will involve some very subtle and effective people," Fouquet replied evasively. "Since I haven't yet fully drawn up the plan myself, it's too early to name the executors, but I promise it will be carried out."
"How can you promise to carry out a plan that hasn't yet been worked out in sufficient detail?" the King asked in surprise.
"It will be worked out and carried out, I guarantee that," Fouquet repeated. "I cannot guarantee that this marriage will lead to a military alliance between England and Portugal, but it will create strong preconditions for it. After the wedding of these individuals, I will take up the second half of this plan."
"Very well," the King agreed. "Let us return to the question of the military alliance between England and Portugal after the marriage of Charles II to Catherine of Braganza. I am pleased with you, Monsieur Fouquet. This matter will apparently require considerable sums? What kind?"
“Your Majesty, I will find this million livres myself, or, more accurately, a million pounds sterling, and I only ask for your consent to spend this sum without receiving the appropriate justification documents for this expense,” said Fouquet.
"So, we're talking about payments that aren't documented?" Ludwig perked up.
“His Eminence sometimes resorted to such methods,” replied Fouquet.
"Are you talking about bribes to royalty?" asked the King.
"I am not aware of the amounts involved, the methods used to spend them, who the recipients were, or the correct term for these expenses," Fouquet replied. "It is quite possible that the term Your Majesty applied to these expenses is the most accurate description of their nature."
"Did Mazarin pay these bribes through you, Fouquet?" the King asked, looking intently into the Superintendent of Finance's eyes.
"I dare remind Your Majesty that my duty was to raise funds for the needs of the state and for the special needs of the first minister," Fouquet replied. "The expenses were handled by the cardinal himself, with the assistance of his manager, Monsieur Jean-Baptiste Colbert."
"So it wasn't you who paid the bribes, but Colbert?" the King asked, his eyes flashing.
“Your Majesty has formulated the essence of the situation perfectly,” Fouquet agreed.
“Well, if you are so successful in solving the affairs entrusted to you that you can even guarantee me a marriage, which, it seems to me, is still far from obvious to Charles II himself , I recognize you not only as a great financier and attorney general, but also as a talented politician,” said the King.
"This is a preamble to a more serious conversation!" Fouquet exclaimed. "The King wants to offer me the post of First Minister! If not now, not today, then very soon!"
"Consider, Monsieur Fouquet, what could be done to ensure that the elective Polish throne goes to the Prince of Cond;'s son, the Duke of Agnes," Louis said. "This would greatly strengthen our position in the northeast. And would greatly weaken the influence of the Habsburgs in this part of Europe."
"I'll think about it, Your Majesty," Fouquet replied with an extremely confident and smug expression. "I believe I have something to offer Your Majesty on this matter."
"Good," the King replied. "I am pleased with you. Also, please examine the intricacies of our current relations with Sweden. We will soon discuss some possibilities in Swedish politics."
“I will study these matters thoroughly, Your Majesty,” replied Fouquet, and, realizing from the King’s nod that the audience was over, he bowed and left.
"The first minister's portfolio is almost in my pocket!" Fouquet thought joyfully. "This is, of course, the last test before my new appointment!"
"How gladly he takes on political affairs, about which he obviously understands nothing!" thought the King. "He has influential supporters, no doubt about that! To trim this 'Squirrel's' claws, we'll have to seriously tinker with him, uncovering all his connections, which obviously extend to both England and Poland! It's perfectly clear that Belle-Ile wasn't fortified to protect France from the English!"
The King recalled one of Cardinal Mazarin's pieces of advice: "When conversing with your courtiers, as well as with princes and anyone else, always try to sit with your back to the light, so that your face remains in shadow while your interlocutor's face is illuminated as fully as possible. Look closely at their faces, the position of their hands, the turn of their heads, even the slightest movement of their fingers. This will help you notice when you are being lied to. But when conversing with those you love, try to have the light illuminate your face from the most advantageous angle, that is, slightly to the side and from above."
"Well, Fouquet certainly lied to me on some matters," said the King to himself. "If only I could learn to distinguish in what matters people lie to me and in what matters they tell the truth!"

Chapter 227

Those who have read Grimaud's memoirs must, I believe, consider d'Artagnan a vile matchmaker who, knowing that Raoul considered Louise de La Valli;re his betrothed, nevertheless facilitated Louis XIV's affair with this girl. This seems entirely unfriendly to Athos. I must excuse my friend, since he was justified in acting as he did given the conversation he had after the events described above.
"Raoul, my boy, I see that your father, the Comte de la F;re, has left a considerable gap in your education, a gap he himself suffered from," d'Artagnan said to the Vicomte de Bragelonne after his meeting with the King. "I have been observing your actions and your mood since you arrived at the King's court, and these observations make me wary."
"Monsieur d'Artagnan, I know that you are an old friend of my father's and had no intention of insulting him, but I would immediately challenge anyone else who dared to speak of him so disparagingly to a duel," Raoul replied. "And even you, I ask you to give me an explanation that would prove that there was not a shadow of disrespect for the Comte de la F;re in your words."
"In your ardor, you are very much like me, as I was almost forty years ago," d'Artagnan replied with a smile. "But calm yourself, you are right, I in no way meant to speak disrespectfully of the Comte de la F;re. On the contrary, my respect for him exceeds that of any man on this sinful earth, and even if Jesus were to descend upon it a second time, and if he were to quarrel with Athos, I would side with Athos, not with Christ. But friendship, affection, devotion, and even sincere love for your father, my dear Raoul, do not obscure Athos the man from my view. True friendship does not consist in seeing only your friend's virtues and being blind to his faults, but in accepting your friend with all his faults. Especially since this one fault of his harms not his friends, but only himself." Knowing this, I can help him in difficult times, since I can foresee the danger he might be unable to avoid due to the peculiarities of his character. And I love you, my dear Raoul, as much as I love your father, since you are a part of him, and in you I find the same flaws and all, or almost all, the same virtues that I know and love in him.
“If your words come from the heart, then tell me what shortcomings you are talking about, and perhaps I will try to correct them in myself, and perhaps soften them in my father, or, in any case, adapt to them,” answered Raoul.
"Do you know, Raoul, what the Maltese word 'approche' means?" asked d'Artagnan.
"Of course, these are hidden approaches to the enemy fortress, specially dug secret trenches!" Raoul replied.
"This can also be applied to relationships between people," said the captain of the musketeers. "People require their own approach, just as military objectives do. Know then, my dear Raoul, that your father and my friend Athos, excellent in all other respects, knows absolutely no approach to two types of people—to princes and to women."
At the mention of women, Raoul shuddered involuntarily.
" Could there be any other approach to a sovereign than to always remember whom fate has given you as your sole sovereign, and to serve him faithfully and truly to the last drop of blood?" Raoul exclaimed fervently. "And with regard to women, it seems to me, the approach should be exactly the same, shouldn't it?"
"You are the spitting image of Athos, my friend, and since Athos often called me his son, by virtue of that relationship and by right of seniority I can address you in exactly the same way, my dear Raoul!" d'Artagnan replied, half jokingly, half seriously. "Listen to me as you would listen to your own father. You never knew your mother, and that, of course, is not your fault, but it may be your misfortune. I would say that Athos never married, but if I said that, I would be lying."
"You mean to say that my father was married to my mother?" Raoul exclaimed heatedly.
“Not at all, my son, not at all!” replied d’Artagnan. “Your father was not married to your mother. But your noble father’s marriage was the gravest mistake of his life, and it would have been better if he had never known the woman he chose as his wife. As a result, having made one mistake, the Count avoided all women in the world, and if it had not been for God’s insistence that the Count de la F;re have an offspring who would resemble him in every way, you would probably never have been born. A miraculous and mysterious accident led to your birth, and your mother is no less noble than your noble father. Someday, perhaps, the Count himself will tell you the story of your birth. In any case, I must not tell you what the Count has decided not to tell you. But my heart bleeds when I see how stubbornly you are walking along the difficult road of the cruelest errors, which will lead you to many sorrows and disappointments, perhaps as strong as those that befell your father, and perhaps even more cruel.
"So the Count was unhappy in love?" Raoul exclaimed.
“The word ‘was’ is inappropriate here, dear Raoul. The Count was not only unhappy, he still, I believe, suffers from the mistake he made in his youth, and only your miraculous appearance in this world made him look at life differently and stop wishing for his own death as soon as possible.
"If you're telling the truth, it's very sad, and I didn't know any of this!" Raoul said.
"Do I really look like the kind of person who would joke about such things or mislead you?" asked d'Artagnan. "Have I ever deceived you, Raoul?"
"Neither you nor the Count ever tell lies!" Raoul retorted hotly. "But you both sometimes conceal the truth, which is sometimes not much different from deception."
"You're mistaken about me," d'Artagnan replied with a smile. "I'm perfectly capable of lying, unlike the Comte de la F;re. I can lie, but I've never lied to you or Athos. You'll just have to accept that and not unnecessarily generalize this rule to everyone I've ever interacted with, or will ever have to. As for your father, he does sometimes tell the truth, even to those who don't deserve it, and even when it causes irreparable harm to himself. Sometimes I even think that, especially in these cases, he's inclined to tell the truth—the truth that kills him. I can't consider this habit beneficial."
"You said my father doesn't know how to approach rulers and women, so is the correct approach to them really to deceive them?" Raoul exclaimed.
"That's not the point, although it is partly that too," d'Artagnan replied. "But the Comte de la F;re wasn't always like this. There was a time when he deceived everyone, hiding his true name, and if he did tell it to anyone, it was only to those he intended to kill before he could impart this terrible secret to anyone else."
"You say terrible things, Monsieur d'Artagnan, and make terrible accusations!" exclaimed Raoul.
"Not at all," d'Artagnan countered. "Imagine if a man took a vow to conceal his name until he had performed certain actions he deemed necessary before regaining his name and position. Is concealing one's name really such a sin in that case, and is calling oneself by another such a great deception? After all, you have to have a name so that people can address you when necessary! The name Athos is a fictitious one, named after the mountain on which the monastery is located. This name was meant to remind your father of the fulfillment of a certain vow."
"So, my father fulfilled this vow, if he decided to return his name, which he had previously hidden!" Raoul said thoughtfully.
"I wouldn't say so," d'Artagnan replied. "Your father had no plans to reclaim his true name, nor did he set himself any goals, nor made any promises to God. However, his self-denial was something akin to a vow. The Count believed that by hastily marrying a woman who proved unworthy of joining his family, he had dishonored himself and his line, and after that, he considered himself unworthy even of returning to his father for repentance. Therefore, he decided to simply disappear from all his loved ones, including his father.
“I understand him,” Raoul said.
"Of course!" d'Artagnan exclaimed. "After all, in many ways you are the spitting image of your father, only younger. But I would never have done such a thing, and I assure you the Count made a mistake. He should not have avoided his own father, leaving him in the dark about his fate and even making him think he had taken his own life. After all, his father, your grandfather, died convinced that his only son had committed suicide, that his line would end with his death, and that his beloved son would burn in hell, like all suicides." Therefore, I am convinced that if you were to repeat your father's mistake in a similar case and hide from him, change your name, and go off to seek death in some dangerous battle, then it would be the greatest ingratitude toward the father who gave you life, raised and educated you, provided you with a noble name and ample wealth, and facilitated your enlistment in one of the most prestigious regiments in the Kingdom! And it would be the greatest misfortune for your father and his friends. Surely you wouldn't want to kill your father, Raoul? You wouldn't want to be such an ungrateful son?
"No way!" Raoul exclaimed. "I would never cause my father any grief!"
"Well, then our conversation isn't in vain. But I'm not talking about grief, but about actual murder, because if you had allowed yourself to be killed because of unrequited love, you would have killed your father in the most literal sense of the word," d'Artagnan clarified.
"But why do you consider my love unhappy?" Raoul exclaimed in bewilderment. "After all, my love is bright, pure, and mutual! I face no misfortunes along this path! Unless fate is so cruel that some misfortune befalls my chosen one? And even then, I will not abandon my beloved!"
"If misfortune befalls your beloved, it will not make your love unhappy, dear Raoul," d'Artagnan replied with a sigh. "There is no need to fear such misfortunes. Rather, beware of the happiness that may fall unexpectedly upon your beloved, as you call her."
"But not only am I not afraid of Louise's happiness, I wish it for her with all my heart!" exclaimed Raoul.
"You named him yourself, Raoul," replied d'Artagnan. "Do you think your father approves of your choice?"
"We haven't discussed it yet, but I very much hope he'll agree with my decision, and even if he doesn't, I hope to convince him!" Raoul replied. "I'll accomplish as many feats as necessary, I'll earn the King's respect and gratitude, and the King will intercede for me! He'll ask the Count for his consent to my marriage, and my father won't be able to refuse him, for the King's will is the Lord's will."
"It's as simple in words as it is difficult in practice," d'Artagnan replied. "No, no, I have no doubt that you are capable of many military exploits and even earn the King's gratitude and admiration for it, but I must warn you that Kings and Queens are not always very grateful to subjects who shed their blood for them and risk their lives at their whim, even ten times a day. They believe that this is the only way it should be, after all, we are their subjects, and perhaps they are even right. Counting on the King's gratitude and assistance is little better than relying on luck or God. We all count on that sometimes, but victory comes not through God's intercession, but with a strong hand and a swift sword." Good fortune is not brought by the gratitude of monarchs, but by a courageous heart, a quick and flexible mind, iron endurance and an unbending will, unwavering persistence in achieving one's goals, sometimes bordering on insane stubbornness. Please note that your father, the Comte de La F;re, did not seek her father's consent to marry his chosen one, but married her against her father's will. Don't make the same mistake!
"I won't do that!" Raoul exclaimed hotly.
" So you differ from him in some ways," d'Artagnan agreed. "But allow me to tell you what the Count de la F;re said to me about my failure in love. 'Love is a lottery in which the winner gets death!' he once said to me in the heat of frankness. 'Believe me, my dear d'Artagnan, you are very lucky to have lost! Always lose—that is my advice.'"
"But Louise loves me!" Raoul objected heatedly.
"You said word for word the same thing I said to your father then, only with a different name," replied d'Artagnan. "I told him: 'It seemed to me that she loved me so!'" Your father replied: "It only seemed that way. There is no man who does not believe, like you, that his beloved loves him, and there is no man who has not been deceived by his beloved."
"I understand," Raoul said thoughtfully. "Father doesn't believe I'm worthy of love. He doesn't believe Louise loves me, or that any woman could love me. And that's why he'll oppose my marriage. I've noticed for some time now that he's become very disapproving of my feelings for Louise!"
"You understand nothing, my dear Raoul, and there's nothing surprising about that," d'Artagnan objected. "I wouldn't say the Count doesn't consider it possible for some woman to fall in love with you. But I'm convinced the Count doesn't consider Louise de La Valli;re a worthy match for you."
"I don't care a bit about her rank or her fortune!" Raoul exclaimed passionately. "Even if Louise were of the lowest rank and didn't have a penny to her name, I would still marry her and be happy!"
"That may be so, my dear Raoul, but when I speak of the Count's doubts, I do not mean Louise de La Valli;re's lack of nobility or wealth," d'Artagnan replied with a sigh. "Your father's nobility and wealth are sufficient to make you and your chosen one happy, whoever she may have been before marriage."
"Then what?" Raoul asked, surprised. "Surely you don't think she lacks high moral standards? Admit it, you can't accuse her of any immoral act! This girl is as pure in soul as a high mountain stream, just emerging from beneath a glacier and trickling its cold waters over pure mountain rocks!"
"Exactly, cold as a mountain stream!" agreed d'Artagnan. "And it's a good thing if she's simply cold by nature! But perhaps her feelings haven't yet been awakened by anyone, and then woe to you if someone else does!"
"But she's always very sweet to me!" Raoul exclaimed.
"Sweet from a good upbringing," d'Artagnan agreed. "In the wilderness, in Blois, where you and she grew up and matured, she simply had no opportunity to turn her maiden gaze on anyone else. You occupied the entire world for her; you were that world. Now she is a maid of honor to Princess Henrietta."
" But what could be wrong with her being the Princess's maid of honor and seeing the world?" Raoul asked in surprise. "Is it really so bad to get to know the royal court, the Princess, and maybe even the King?"
"I cannot answer the question of what these acquaintances will bring, but I myself would never marry a maid of honor, and especially not Princess Henrietta's," said d'Artagnan. "That lady will not be a model of piety for her maids."
"You must have some misunderstanding of the meaning of the word 'maid of honor,'" Raoul objected. "And what bad can you say about Princess Henrietta?"
"My dear Raoul!" replied d'Artagnan. "Ask your friend, the Count de Guiche, about the Princess's frivolity. I can tell you that I know the meaning of the word 'maid of honor' very well, and I'm not saying this for the sake of a catchphrase. Our King Louis XIV's amorousness was not at all like his father, Louis XIII , but rather like his grandfather, Henry IV . Even when he was quite young, he courted all of Cardinal Mazarin's nieces, and there were far too many of these nieces, whom everyone called the Mazarinettes. Almost all of them proved their affection for him, and he proved his virility to them. The King's marriage, for political reasons, will not stop his amorousness." The King is insatiable in his passions, and he intends to rule alone, so now there will be no one to restrain his passions within the bounds of propriety. He won't listen even to his august mother, who, incidentally, was no model of piety either. Our King's grandfather openly lived with mistresses and recognized the children they bore him as his legitimate children. He arranged for these mistresses to become the Queen's ladies-in-waiting, simultaneously showing disdain for both his own wife and the husbands of these ladies, if they had any. I expect nothing less from Louis XIV in this regard, you'll see. The King will only avoid your beloved if he doesn't like her.
"But Louise is an honest girl!" Raoul objected hotly. "She won't allow herself to be treated the way those you speak of did!"
"Why do you think those others were dishonest?" d'Artagnan asked. "What if they truly loved Henry IV ? Why do you consider yourself so much more attractive than the King that you're certain Louise would never choose His Majesty over you? Besides, if she refuses the King, she'll be denied the position of maid of honor."
"And let them fire her! It will be even better that way," Raoul objected. "The king can only offer her a shameful love, condemned by God, whereas I will offer her marriage! She will be a viscountess, perhaps even a countess."
"The King could make her a Marquise, a Duchess, even a Princess," said d'Artagnan. "Listen, Raoul, the oath of fidelity Louise may have sworn to you cannot bind her to anything, since she made it without knowing the court, without knowing the King, without knowing all the temptations of life at court, without knowing the sophisticated seducers who scurry about the palace and, if necessary, scatter pearls, gold, and diamonds, just to get the coveted prey into their nets! She didn't yet know herself, so such oaths are worthless.
“ Louise didn’t make any promises to me,” Raoul said quietly.
“No vows?” d’Artagnan asked. “Even so? And you? Have you already told her of your love?”
“She could read my confession in my eyes, in my face, in my hands when I took her hand to touch it with my lips,” Raoul answered passionately.
“Could she have read it, or did she?” d’Artagnan objected. “Did she reciprocate your feelings, or did she simply allow you to continue to be mistaken about her? Kissed her hands, you say? A mere gesture of respect for a woman’s power over us men! There, in Blois, you were perhaps the only man who kissed her hands; here, in Paris, her hands, the hands of the Princess’s maid of honor, will be kissed every day by dozens of men’s lips, and it will mean absolutely nothing to her. But among those lips, sooner or later, there may be the lips of the King, or some courtier, a dandy, who will please her more than you, if only because he will promise her what you would never dare promise. Women sometimes value diamonds more than a marriage proposal.”
"Louise is not like that!" Raoul exclaimed in despair.
“But you haven’t declared your love! You haven’t chosen the right moment to declare your love to her, you haven’t received an equally sincere declaration of reciprocity in response. Why then do you consider her your chosen one?” asked d’Artagnan. “Just because when she was a little girl, you offered her your knee so she could mount her horse and held her hand? When do you plan to confess to her, to receive her consent to marry you in return? You’ve laid out your treasure in a place where hundreds of deceivers and liars hang out, accustomed to casting their eyes on others’ property and appropriating what doesn’t belong to them, and you’re convinced of its safety only because, as you believe, the Lord loves you and protects you from such shame more than all other nobles?” Why does God allow the Duke of Chevreuse to bear branching horns, like the Duke of Longueville, like Charles of Lorraine, like so many others whose names I won't mention, lest you forget them? Why do you think God is more merciful to you than to your father, who experienced disappointment in his choice to the point of seeking death?
“You say that because you didn’t see Louise’s eyes when she looked at me,” Raoul answered stubbornly.
"God grant that you are right, my dear Raoul," replied d'Artagnan. "I sincerely wish you happiness. But what will you say if I am right and you are not? What if your experienced father, whose words I just conveyed to you, is right, and who also views your possible marriage with Louise de La Valli;re, is also very skeptical?"
“If such a misfortune were to befall me, I would consider it deserved and would bear it with fortitude,” said Raoul.
"Young people often overestimate their feelings, and even more often, they overestimate their ability to resist them," d'Artagnan replied. "Listen to me, a man no longer young and experienced in such matters. Marriage is a lifelong commitment. It wouldn't hurt to get to know each other better first, and most importantly, yourself, to understand what you want from life, what and who your chosen one wants, and whether you are right for each other. It's easy to make a mistake at twenty, and then forty years or more will have to live with someone you don't love or who doesn't love you. Surely you don't think Louise de La Valli;re accepted the position of maid of honor to Princess Henrietta only to marry her fellow countryman less than a year later and, locked within four walls in the wilderness of Blois, bear you children and await your return from the war?"
"Why not, Captain?" Raoul asked doubtfully.
"Because to settle in Blois with your neighbor the Viscount, there's no need to go to Paris and enter the Princess's service," d'Artagnan replied. "People don't, as a rule, hop in a carriage and travel fifty leagues to the capital to open the gate and cross into the neighboring garden. I propose a simple wager to you, my dear Raoul. Wait six months, postpone your wedding. If, after six months, you remain as firm in your decision, I undertake to persuade the Comte de la F;re to consent to your marriage to Louise de La Valli;re."
"But, my dear d'Artagnan!" exclaimed Raoul. "I never even dreamed of our marriage taking place before the time you indicated!"
"I know," the captain replied. "But I have a counter-demand. If I prove right in my warnings, and if during these six months you find reason not to enter into this marriage, such as your betrothed's refusal, promise me it will not break your heart. And that means not inflaming your feelings with unnecessary hopes that may prove unfounded. If you promise me this, and focus your thoughts solely on your military career, I will be able to rest assured about you. In that case, I will believe that my involvement in your fate will justify the hopes I have for myself, and then this conversation, which has caused you several unpleasant moments, will not have been in vain. Do you promise me that, Raoul?"
“I am so confident in Louise that such a promise does not limit me in any way,” Raoul replied.
"You promise to take Louise's refusal philosophically?" d'Artagnan asked incredulously. "Can I rely on your courage in this case?"
Instead of answering, Raoul extended his hand to d'Artagnan, but then, in a burst of emotion, embraced him like a son.
"If my grumbling hasn't yet tired you out, my dear Raoul, we'll have another talk about the meaning of the word 'approche,'" d'Artagnan said, patting Raoul affectionately on the back and gently pushing him away. "Go see the Count, but don't tell him about our conversation. Let it be our little secret. Otherwise, I'll take back my promise to influence his decision six months from now."

Chapter 228

It was no coincidence that d'Artagnan had struck up this conversation with Raoul. Unlike Athos, he immediately noticed how Louise de La Valli;re was looking at the King. After all, it was his duty to often accompany Louis, and he always viewed his presence with the royal personage as part of his duties as commander of the personal guard. In the presence of a person of great importance, everyone looks at them, except the guards. Those guarding that person look not so much at that person themselves as at the people around them, trying to discern their thoughts from their behavior, facial expressions, and the involuntary movements of their arms and legs, the way their bodies turn, and the movement of their eyes, in order to anticipate their actions. The captain of the Musketeers easily read each person around him like a book, anticipating their actions by their reactions to the King's words and gestures. He certainly realized that Louise was in love with Louis, but he didn't yet know whether the King would reciprocate these feelings, ignore them, or simply ignore them. However, his experience told him that Louis XIV was an amorous youth, and passionate natures like his are capable of reciprocating passion even if they initially find the lady who bestowed their sincere love unattractive. However, even less passionate natures are sometimes ignited by reciprocal love, since true and intense love for them in a young woman of the opposite sex always flatters their vanity and causes them to perceive that person in a special way, distinguishing her from those who merely feign passion or who don't even show it. Even the young monarch, accustomed to seeing only admiring glances directed at him, eventually begins to distinguish between feigned, forced, and flattering admiration and true love.
So, while Athos was trying to discern Louise's status as a suitable wife for Raoul and the extent to which Raoul's love was genuine, d'Artagnan had already discerned in this passion a mortal danger for the young man and attempted to forestall it, hoping to gradually open his eyes to the situation. He hoped that Raoul himself would be concerned with clarifying the question of Louise's desirability as a husband and attempting to clarify this question as accurately as possible, acting delicately and without succumbing to the preconception that Louise felt the same feelings for Raoul as he did for her, based solely on the goodwill between two neighbor children.
D'Artagnan was particularly alarmed by the fact that when Louis asked him if he knew the name of the Princess's lady-in-waiting, who always wore a ribbon or something the same color as the King's that day in her hair or at her belt, the King, upon hearing Mademoiselle de La Valli;re's name, wrote it down on a piece of paper as if for memory, and then, either for fun or because of the obvious similarity, wrote his own name next to it. The result was: "Louis" and "Louise." Louis and Louisa. Judge for yourself.
It is quite clear that in order to remember Louise's name, Louis did not need to write it down, so this prank meant something else, namely: at the very least, Louis's interest in Mademoiselle de La Valli;re, even if completely idle , arose from the consonance of her name with his own.
These events led to the conversation between d'Artagnan and Raoul that I described in the previous chapter.
Grimaud describes an incident in which Athos quarreled with the King over their differing opinions on the fate of Louise de La Valli;re. He claimed that Athos believed she should marry Raoul, while the King disagreed. This led to Athos's arrest, and d'Artagnan was ordered to escort him to the Bastille, which d'Artagnan did, after which he returned to the King and persuaded him to rescind the order. The story is certainly fascinating; Grimaud managed to paint it vividly; I myself read it with rapt attention. But it bears no resemblance to actual events. Neither would Athos have spoken so insolently to the King, nor would the King have reversed his decision to arrest Athos if he had signed it because of the behavior described in Grimaud's memoirs. Only Grimaud regarded his master as a deity, and therefore saw virtues even in his shortcomings, exaggerating them first in his imagination and then in his fantasies and descriptions. Anyone who has ever been at court would be unaware of the absurdity of Athos's two visits to the King, as described in Grimaud's memoirs. Louis would not have allowed even his own brother or uncle, much less the Comte de la F;re, to behave like that. And, of course, the Comte de la F;re, a man who held the King in a special respect, comparable to almost divine rapture, would never have dared demand that the King abandon his chosen one because his son, and an illegitimate one at that, had chosen her. For Louis XIV, Raoul de Bragelonne was a nobody, for whose sake he would have sacrificed absolutely nothing, not to mention the sacrifice that this literary hero, who was decidedly different from the real Count de La F;re, dared to demand in Grimaud's book.
The truth of this description is that Athos, as he was in life, truly didn't care what Louise thought about the prospect of her marriage to Raoul, for the simple reason that his blind paternal love assured him that Raoul was so good that Louise simply couldn't help but love him. In this matter, Athos was simply like a child.

I must say that Athos did indeed visit King Louis XIV twice , but the conversation did not proceed as Grimaud described, and, of course, did not end the way he did.
Athos first came to the King to ask for his consent to Raoul's marriage to Louise de La Valli;re, but not to be refused. Athos would never have risked making such a request to the King in the hopes of a refusal. Firstly, the King would not have tolerated such impudence; secondly, had the King consented, the marriage could not have been refused even if both Raoul and Louise had refused it after his consent had been granted, and even if Athos himself had opposed it. He would never, under any circumstances, risk his son's happiness in such a way, even in the erroneous sense that poor Athos had attached to the word.
The King's visit had no consequences worth bragging about, which is precisely why Grimaud is unaware of the outcome or the conversation itself. I'll tell you how it all happened.

"Your Majesty," said Athos, arriving at the appointed time, "I have come at your invitation and am ready to answer all your questions."
"Enter, Marquis," the King replied. "I am glad to see you. You have rendered good service to my cousin Charles II , although you received no authority to do so. It is curious that while you were in England, our kingdom's relations with that power were far from rosy. What was your motive in going there without any commission from me? This is interference in the internal politics of another power!"
"I was guided by a promise I made to the current King's father, Charles of England, a moment before his terrible death," Athos replied. "I was secretly under the scaffold where the execution took place, so I was the last person King Charles spoke to."
"Why were you there and what were you doing there?" the King asked in surprise.
“My friends and I made a last desperate attempt to save the King, but Fate turned against us, and our plan failed,” Athos replied.
"I remember, Marquis, that you were ambassador to the English court, but if I'm not mistaken, at the time we're talking about, you no longer held that position," the King asked. "Did you go to England on your own initiative to rescue King Charles?"
“Exactly so, sir, and if I have angered Your Majesty, I will humbly accept any punishment,” replied Athos.
"Oh, come now, Marquis!" the King retorted with a smile. "We've already discussed and considered all these matters. After all, you seem to have received the Pendants from King Charles?"
"Exactly," Athos agreed. "The King awarded it to me for my previous services, while he still retained the small measure of power in his country that entitled him to it. At the same time, he awarded the same order to Lord Winter, who, unfortunately, was killed that same day."
"Unhappy country, unhappy fate!" said the King with a sigh. "But fortunately for this country, you, Marquis, were among the few defenders of legitimate authority, and although you failed to save Charles I , you succeeded in restoring the throne to his son, Charles II . Tell me more about how you managed it."
"Chance decided everything, Your Majesty, and I merely fulfilled my duty," Athos replied modestly. "I promised Charles I that I would hand over this money to his son when he needed it to restore his legal rights, and when that moment arrived, I could not fail to keep my promise. There is no merit in doing the only thing possible."
"Your zeal is commendable and the results are magnificent," the King concluded. "But you deserve a reward! Do you have any requests for me?"
"Your Majesty, as I have already said, I only did what duty required of me," replied Athos. "But since Your Majesty is disposed to do something for me, I would ask, if possible, that you legitimize by decree my son Raoul's right to inherit my noble title."
"You have, I believe, already granted him the Viscountcy of Bragelonne, which belongs to you?" asked the King. "What more do you want?"
"My son was born to the Comte de La F;re, and I wish that after my death he should rightfully bear my name," replied Athos. "The possession of the estate has given him the right to nobility, but I wish him to rightfully be the heir and continuer of my line. I assure you, his mother's nobility is no less noble than mine, but I have no right to reveal her name."
"Is she alive?" the King asked.
“She is alive, Your Majesty,” Athos replied.
"Bastards can only be legitimized if they are the King's children, as you know, dear Marquis," the King replied. "By the way, why do you call yourself a count, when I know for a fact that you are a marquis?"
"I did not wish to embarrass my friends with too high a title," Athos replied modestly. "I introduced myself as the Count when I was forced to reveal my incognito, and since then they have become accustomed to calling me the Count de La F;re, and I myself have become accustomed to this name."
"But such a county doesn't exist!" the King objected. "I know the Marquisate of La F;re, and you were sent to England as ambassador under the name of Marquis de La F;re, not Count de La F;re! Well, among friends you may call yourself whatever you like, but in my presence, I beg you not to be modest. So, perhaps, Princes will call themselves Counts, and Dukes Barons? I don't like that. So, you would like the Viscount de Bragelonne to be recognized as legitimate, given that he was born out of wedlock? And who is his mother?"
"Your Majesty, his mother is higher in rank than her father," Athos replied. "She is a duchess, and I cannot reveal her name, since this secret is not mine."
"I think I know who this Duchess is!" the King exclaimed joyfully. "And your son looks just like her! How come I didn't notice it right away?"
"I'm glad I found a reason to cheer up Your Majesty," Athos replied, trying to hide his annoyance. "Can I count on a positive resolution to my question?"
"Dear Marquis!" the King replied. "The fact that your son's mother is a duchess changes nothing. Even if she were the Queen herself, your son would still be a bastard. Only the King's children can enjoy the privilege of being recognized as legitimate, and even then, as you see, they do not receive all the hereditary rights they would have been entitled to had they been born in wedlock. What do you expect of me? To break the law that even princes, dukes, and peers obey?"
"Your Majesty, I had no intention of asking for anything, and I dare not trouble you with my petitions. It was only after receiving Your Majesty's encouragement that I dared to address you with such an unusual request," Athos replied. "Since it cannot be granted, I have nothing further to ask. In certain cases, by decree of the King, titles and inheritances, as well as the name, are passed down through the maternal line, so that the lineage does not die out."
"That's different, Marquis," the King replied. "If you had married his mother, perhaps something could have been done for your son."
“That is impossible, Your Majesty,” replied Athos.
"But I would like to thank you, Marquis!" the King objected. "Perhaps you would like my approval for some advantageous marriage between your son and a noble lady, one he would not be able to count on without being legitimate? My approval of this match would make this matter settled, and the marriage indissoluble. I could even be godfather to one of your future grandchildren! The King's attention to your son will not go unnoticed. He will certainly take a worthy place at court, you can be sure of that!"
"I would only wish for my son to be considered my father's grandson and the successor to my line," Athos replied. "Belonging to my line by law, given that he already belongs to it by birth, is reward enough for him, and my son needs no other rewards. He will earn everything else with his sword, his courage, and his honor, and the fortune with which I have already provided him is quite sufficient for him; he has no need of lucrative positions or positions at court. As for marriage, he has his eye on one of the Princess's ladies-in-waiting, but I believe that matter can wait."
"The Princess's ladies-in-waiting cannot marry without the Princess's consent and my approval," the King said. "Furthermore, they are all of sufficient rank, and I do not believe any lady-in-waiting's parents would approve of a marriage to an illegitimate nobleman, even if he possessed all the virtues of your son, Marquis. This is precisely the case where the marriage can only take place at my express request. Which lady-in-waiting are we talking about?"
"Your Majesty, I ask you to postpone or even forget this conversation, as I acknowledge you are absolutely right," Athos replied. "A bastard cannot marry the Princess's maid of honor. I will convey this to my son."
"Don't get so worked up, Marquis!" the King retorted. "Perhaps we can think of something. Perhaps your son, with his sword, will earn himself a position where no one will dare to reproach him for his origins?"
"I have no doubt that it will be so, Your Majesty," replied Athos. "And until then, his valor and his sword, as well as mine, are the guarantee that no one will reproach him for not being of high birth."
"Go, Marquis," the King replied. "And don't forget that duels are forbidden. We'll think about how to thank you and what we can do for your son. Incidentally, if he inherits your marquisate, he'll be able to claim your name as well. Not as a successor to your line, but as the founder of a new line bearing the same name."
"Thank you, Your Majesty," he said. "Perhaps that would be even better. In that case, his lineage wouldn't be so ancient, but then..."
"But?" the King asked. "But what?"
“But he will start with a clean slate, and that is sometimes better than inheriting family privileges and family curses,” said Athos, and, having made sure that the King was letting him go, he bowed and left.

Chapter 229

Athos told no one about this conversation, but two people knew its contents word for word. One of them was me, of course. The other was the Duchess de Chevreuse. Don't ask me how I came to be privy to it, because I won't tell you, but I don't know how the Duchess found out about it. I can only assume she has a whole network of informants, no worse than mine. Knowing everything about everything has long been Marie de Chevreuse's profession.
The day after this conversation, she went to see the Queen Mother, who had long since become cold and wary of her, but did not refuse her a meeting. Perhaps this was due to memories of their former friendship, perhaps to fear of some secrets being exposed, or most likely, a combination of both.
"Your Majesty, I am so happy to see you!" the Duchess exclaimed.
“Oh, Duchess, I look so bad that I don’t even feel any joy in seeing myself in the mirror, so it’s unlikely that anyone could be happy to see me,” the Queen replied coquettishly.
"To me, you're always the same charming and sweet friend!" cooed Chevrette. "But I daren't address you as I did in the days of our youth, before you were Queen."
"I'm no longer the reigning Queen," replied Anne of Austria. "And I never was. I'm still the same Anne, your friend. But you seem to have some business with me?"
“My main business is to see you and inquire about your health,” Maria answered hypocritically.
"My health, as you know, is deteriorating, especially since the Cardinal left this sinful land," the Queen replied with a sigh. "My life's purpose was to preserve the kingdom for my son and leave it to him in no worse condition than his father left it. With God's help and that of my tireless friend, whom I sorely miss now, I have succeeded not only in fulfilling this mission but also in strengthening the kingdom. Now, all I need is peace, and if I could add even a modicum of health to that, I could not dream of anything better. But what is your business, my dear?"
"Ah, you don't believe in my selfless friendship, my Queen," Chevrette feigned disappointment. "So be it. If I must give a reason for my visit that would be more compelling than the simple love of an old friend, then so be it. I wish to take care of a young man."
"My dear!" the Queen exclaimed. "You're not wasting your time! Who is this young man? Tell me more!"
"Ah, Your Majesty, it's not at all what you think," the Duchess replied. "This young man is dear to me in no way as a man. I will tell this only to you, and not a single living soul must know about it. He is my son."
"But, my dear, it seems there's nothing wrong with caring for one's own son, so why make a secret of it?" the Queen asked in surprise. "Louis-Charles d'Albert, Duke of Luynes, is quite well off!"
"I'm not talking about my legitimate son, but about my other son," the Duchess replied with a sincere sigh. "I have another son. And no one except me and his father knows who his mother is, not even he himself."
"That's something new!" the Queen exclaimed. "When did you manage to do that?"
"You, of course, remember, Your Majesty, that story with the prayer book," said Chevrette. "When you wanted to warn me there was no danger by sending me a prayer book bound in red velvet, someone got confused and sent me a different prayer book. Its binding was green, signifying danger. As soon as Prince Marcillac, Duke of La Rochefoucauld, brought me this prayer book, I realized that this gift signified mortal danger for me, of which my beloved friend Queen Anne had warned me! Therefore, I was forced to leave France. Having entrusted the Duke with my jewels for safekeeping, I went into voluntary exile, lest I end up in the Bastille or, even worse, in the Place de Gr;ve."
"Did someone get the color wrong?" the Queen exclaimed. "So that's why you behaved so strangely! And here I was wondering why you ran away, even though I sent word that there was nothing to fear! After all, I ordered a prayer book with a red cover! Someone either got it wrong, or did it on purpose!"
"Exactly so, my Queen!" Chevrette confirmed. "I am the unfortunate victim of someone's oversight, or perhaps someone's ill will. I was forced to leave my estate urgently, riding with only my maid. We both disguised ourselves in men's clothing and were forced to gallop as fast as we could, fearing pursuit."
"You poor thing!" the Queen said sincerely, hugging her friend. "You've had to endure so much!"
"Yes, but there were also pleasant moments on this trip," Chevrette replied. "It was thanks to one such episode during my trip that my son was born, whose existence the Duke de Chevreuse is unaware of."
"Then he was born in the autumn of 1634?" asked the Queen. "And now he is a young man in the prime of life! Is he handsome?"
"He is handsome, like his father, a nobleman too, a count and a marquis!" Maria replied. "But he spent almost his entire life as this count's ward, considering himself an orphan. Only recently did the count acknowledge him as his son, but that's not enough. Besides, he will never know that his mother is a duchess, forced to watch him from afar and never dare to openly display her maternal feelings for him."
"Do you want to make him a nobleman?" asked the Queen.
"He is equal in rights to a nobleman, since the Count gave him an estate with the status of a viscountcy," Chevrette replied. "For this reason, he is called a viscount, and until now, no one has thought to challenge his right to this title."
"I think I know who you're talking about!" the Queen replied. "There aren't many viscounts that age. Are you talking about Raoul, the son of the Marquis de La F;re?"
"I beg you to keep my secret, Your Majesty!" exclaimed Maria. "Is it possible to help him be recognized as the Marquis's legitimate son?"
“My dear, you know that this is impossible,” the Queen replied coldly.
"I know it's difficult, but not impossible," Chevrette countered. "If the King so desires, it can easily be arranged."
"But the King will not wish this," the Queen firmly objected. "He has his own unshakable principles."
"It's nice to hear that royalty has unshakable principles," Chevrette replied. "But the King's most unshakable principle is his will. If the King so desires, he can do anything."
“I have already said that he will not wish it,” the Queen answered coldly.
"Even if his beloved mother asked him to?" the Duchess purred. "Would your dear, your sweet Louis refuse his adored mother such a trifle?"
"Listen, my dear," the Queen said harshly. "I think you're forgetting yourself. Your request is inconceivable, and your tone is insulting."
“Very well, I will leave and not bother Your Majesty any longer,” the Duchess said in a tone of utter submission. “May I ask just one question?”
“Ask me, but only one, and I hope it will be the last,” replied the Queen, not hiding her contempt for the Duchess.
"Would a certain high-ranking personage be pleased to learn of the story of how a certain lady, wearing one of my dresses, which the entire court knew at the time, and my usual Cologne water, with a scent unique to me, and covering her face with a mask, met a certain Prince on a date, posing as me, after which, nine months later, this very person was born?" asked the Duchess. "And would this very important personage be pleased if not only he, but someone else, learned of this meeting, nine months before his birth? I mean, in fact, everyone, the entire world. After all, such rumors spread very quickly, and when these rumors are supported by very significant evidence and testimony, I would say, it can lead to consequences the importance of which I cannot even begin to predict."
“ I... I don’t understand what you’re talking about, Duchess,” the Queen said in a trembling voice. “What business is it of mine to know who pretends to be you?”
"Your Majesty, Prince of the Blood Caesar, Duke of Vend;me, the eldest son of King Henry IV, is still alive, and he will be interested to know that the meeting he believed took place between him and me at the very beginning of 1638 was in fact with a completely different lady, my age and, I would say, my friend, but standing much higher than me," said Chevrette. "He was convinced that I was in love with him and had arrived incognito from abroad specifically for this meeting, and my dress and my Cologne water dispelled all his doubts on this score. He thought he had shown his ardor and courage towards me, although he did not see my face, and trusted only the smell of Cologne water and a passionate whisper in my ear in the night. The fruit of this love was born on September 5, 1638.";years. I think he'll be very interested in the truth about who this date actually took place with and what the outcome was, which could tell a lot of interesting stories.
"Do not go on!" cried the Queen. "Do you promise me in the name of God that you will forget this secret if I obtain for your son what you ask?"
"I give it, Your Majesty," Chevrette replied humbly. "I swear by the Lord that if my son becomes his father's legitimate son, no one will ever know any secret that might cast doubt on the legitimacy of the one born of C;sar Vend;me, even though his father is believed to be an entirely different person."
"My dear Chevrette!" said the Queen. "We are friends, after all! You will keep your promise even after my death, won't you?"
"I swear, my Anne!" replied Chevrette, placing her hand on the Bible. "As soon as Raoul de Bragelonne becomes the legitimate son of his father, the Marquis de La F;re, I will forget everything connected with the love affairs of C;sar de Vend;me!"
After these words, the Queen tenderly embraced the Duchess, as if that terrible scene on the brink of a final break had never happened before. Both ladies feigned the most tender love for each other, but neither was deceived on this score.
"I'll have to make this sacrifice," thought the Queen. "She won't dare break the oath she swore on the Bible before God. A difficult conversation with my son lies ahead, but I'll get his consent."
"I still have many more secrets of yours besides this one, my dear Anna!" thought Chevrette. "And for each of them you will have to pay no less than for this one!"

Chapter 230

"My son, how are you?" asked the Queen, entering Louis XIV's presence .
"Mother, they're all waiting for my decision about who I'll make first minister," Louis replied. "But I'm not going to hand over power to anyone!"
" You have taken on an extremely heavy burden, Your Majesty, but I fully approve of your choice!" the Queen said, gently taking her son's hand. "You will be a great monarch!"
"I hope so!" replied the King. "In spite of that arrogant Fouquet!"
"Fouquet is a clever man, and very useful to us," said the Queen. "The Cardinal valued him highly."
"I know, Mother," the King replied. "I know all his services to the Cardinal and to all of us. They consist of the fact that he ensured the replenishment of the treasury with money when it was almost impossible, or even completely impossible, using only honest methods."
"The means are not so important if the ends are achieved," replied Anne of Austria. "It is far better to win by the most unpleasant means than to lose the most important battle of one's life quite honestly. And that was precisely what it was, Your Majesty. The wretched Fronde threatened our very existence! And this disaster recurred twice during the time when the Cardinal and I were making every effort to save France!"
"You're right, Mother, when the issue is saving the state, there's no point in regretting minor tax violations," the King agreed. "But I see that Monsieur Fouquet has imagined himself to be the country's savior, and it seems he's aiming far higher than the position he currently occupies. After all, there are only two rungs higher—the nominal head of the cabinet, or the de facto master of the country, as Richelieu was!"
“Go on, my son,” the Queen said firmly.
"What are you talking about, mother?" asked the King.
"You meant to add: 'And what Mazarin was like,' didn't you?" the Queen clarified.
"What are you saying, Mother!" Louis protested. "Mazarin was second in command, in your shadow, and nothing more!"
“You are right, but you are also wrong,” the Queen replied calmly. “Giulio was all he could be for you and me, and therefore was no less than Richelieu was for your father. The only difference is that where Richelieu acted only with force and cruelty, Giulio acted with cunning, money, and, most often, logic. He logically demonstrated to potential traitors that they were better off remaining loyal servants than taking the path of fighting us. And if such logical proofs were supported by arguments in the form of money, lands, or titles, then even in this sense the losses were far less than they would have been if we had been forced to fight everyone who wanted it. But I must also stand up for Richelieu. He was a wise politician and acted as was necessary, but the times were different. Mazarin saved the kingdom from the Fronde; Richelieu simply would not have allowed any Fronde to raise its head.” And yet, Your Majesty's treasury, left to you by Cardinal Mazarin, is in much better condition than it was after the death of Cardinal Richelieu. Giulio Mazarin achieved this with no small amount of help from Fouquet.
" And do you know, Mother, that Fouquet openly says that I cannot govern the state without his help, and no one argues with him?" Louis exclaimed. "Does he think I cannot manage the kingdom without him? He considers himself indispensable!"
"There can be only one answer to that, my son," the Queen replied with a grin. "Replace him with someone you consider more worthy of the positions he occupies."
"By whom?" asked Louis.
"You see!" the Queen replied. "Until you have no one to replace him, pretend to be satisfied with everything he does. And then look for a replacement. There's no need to look for someone to replace him in all his posts; he has too many. Let one person replace him as Attorney General, another as Superintendent of Finance, a third as Governor of Belle-Ile, and so on."
“You are right, mother, I have thought about this too,” the King agreed.
"Until the very moment you order his arrest, do not give him any reason to suspect that you have such an intention," said the Queen. "He has too many friends and too many opportunities to evade justice, and if he does, he might organize a new Fronde. It is no secret that the first Fronde was organized by Paul de Gondi. In any case, he was the one who brought the candle to the wick that led to this explosion of discontent, for which, believe me, there was no objective reason. But Paul de Gondi, compared to Nicolas Fouquet, is like a stinking jackal compared to a tiger. Do not lose sight of Fouquet, never give him the opportunity to organize a new Fronde, and to this end, each new month, each new week, even each new day must bring Fouquet new hopes for even greater advancement, lest he dare dare turn against you. Encourage him at every meeting with you." He must think that in you he has his closest and most trusted friend. If he wants to think that he has influence over you and that you do nothing without his advice, let him think so until he finds himself in a position where you are completely indifferent to what he thinks, what he strives for, and what he is plotting—that is, until he ends up in the Bastille or somewhere even worse.
"Thank you for your advice, Mother, we see the matter in exactly the same light," said the King. "But it seems you didn't come to me to talk about Fouquet?"
"How did you guess, my son?" asked the Queen.
"Very simple!" Louis replied. "After all, it was I who first mentioned Fouquet. Therefore, you came to talk about something else."
"You are right, my son," said the Queen. "I wanted to ask you for a favor."
"Mother! I will refuse you nothing!" the King exclaimed. "Should you ask when you can command? After all, you are my mother."
“ From the day of the official transfer to you of all rights of sole governance of the kingdom, I no longer command you, my son, I am one of your subjects, and I am distinguished, perhaps, only by the fact that no one loves or can love you more than I do,” the Queen replied.
“Okay, let’s call it a request,” Louis agreed. “What does it consist of?”
"I wish to ask you for a young man," said the Queen. "His name is Raoul, Viscount de Bragelonne, son of the Count de La F;re."
"And what do you wish to ask in connection with this young man?" the King asked warily.
“The Count de la F;re would very much like Raoul de Bragelonne to be considered his legitimate son,” said the Queen.
"This is the second time in the last two days that I've heard this request!" the King exclaimed. "The wretched Count de la F;re wasn't satisfied with my negative answer to his request and has dragged himself to you, begging for your intercession and petition! How dare he contradict me?!"
"I assure you, my son, that the Count de la F;re has nothing to do with this," the Queen objected. "I am taking care of him at his mother's request."
"Really?" the King was surprised. "Who is his mother?"
“My son, this is not my secret, and I beg you not to insist on my answering it, for I dare not lie to you, but I would not like to break the promise I made to his mother to keep this secret,” said the Queen.
"The Marquis de la F;re told me that his son's mother is even more noble than he is, that she is a duchess," the King said thoughtfully. "It can't be the Duchess de Longueville, and you wouldn't have interceded for him at her request. So it must be the Duchess de Chevreuse?"
"Oh, my son, allow me not to answer your question!" cried the Queen in despair.
"She was probably blackmailing you?" asked the King. "Apparently she knows some secret the disclosure of which would be extremely undesirable for you. Well, I will have her thrown into the Bastille, and that will be the end of it."
"Don't do this, my son, I beg you, I conjure you by all that is holy and dear to you!" cried the Queen.
"You think this won't help," the King said thoughtfully. "What kind of secret is this?"
“Just fulfill my request, and believe me, my son, it will be better not only for me, but for you as well,” said the Queen.
"What would you say if she simply fell into the river, or if her carriage was attacked by bandits and she was accidentally killed?" Louis asked.
"That's impossible, my son," the Queen replied. "God will never forgive you, or me, if anything like that happens. Besides, if the Duchess swore on the Bible, we can rest assured. And who told you it was the Duchess de Chevreuse we were talking about?"
" Why do you consider me a child, Mother?" the King retorted with a smile. "You can rest assured that you haven't betrayed the Duchess's secret or broken your promise. After all, you didn't know that the Count informed me that this bastard's mother was a Duchess. And there aren't many Duchesses old enough to be his mother who could persuade you to intercede on this matter. Very well, I will sign the decree recognizing Raoul de Bragelonne as the legitimate son of the Count de La F;re, even though it would be against the rules."
"Thank you, my son," the Queen replied. "You have made the best decision. As for the Duchess de Chevreuse, you will find her useful, for she hates Fouquet and has chosen Colbert's side. She surely has a weapon against the superintendent."
“Yes, I know, because she plans to marry Colbert,” the King replied.

Chapter 231

"Mother is definitely still living under the illusion that she's still at the head of the kingdom," Louis XIV grumbled . "It's time to put an end to this, and at the same time remove the entire family from power. First, we need to deal with them, and then I'll deal with the ministers who even know how to do anything beyond arrogantly squabble with each other, plot, and prove their indispensability by claiming ever more handouts and privileges."
The king rang the bell, summoning his secretary.
“Chancellor Seguier, immediately,” he said abruptly.
Soon the Chancellor appeared before the King.
"Monsieur Chancellor," said Louis, "I understand that everyone is accustomed to the throne speech being a mere formality, in which the ascending King thanks God and anyone he chooses to thank for all he has achieved, after which he promises all sorts of things he has no intention of fulfilling. And I understand that the stated intentions seem like a simple declaration, and all those accustomed to feeding off the treasury hope that these words are empty chatter, like what the pretenders to the post of King of France allow themselves. Thank God, France is not Poland; there is no need to lie to the voters, since God has decided who will be King. The King receives his power directly from God, and he has no need to lie to his future subjects or make promises he has no intention of keeping. For this reason, I believe you all should have listened more carefully to my speech from the throne, as I wasn't trying to please those listening, but rather to set forth a series of directives and instructions, outlining my intentions and future reforms. So if I said that members of the Royal Family, with all due respect and love for them, are deprived of the right to interfere in matters of state administration, then so it will be.
“ Perfectly fair and infinitely reasonable, Your Majesty,” Seguier agreed.
“I am not asking for your assessment of my decisions, but I demand attention and careful execution, Monsieur Seguier,” Louis said calmly but sternly.
The Chancellor realized that it would have been better for him to remain silent and nod, so he tried to listen to the King as attentively as possible and portray a grimace of respectful attention and undisguised delight on his face.
“I promised to uphold the rights, immunities, and privileges of the Church,” the King continued. “As for the nobility, they are my right hand, and I must value them as I value my own, and use them accordingly. Regarding the members of Parliament, I reminded them that they must be respected, but, crucially, that they must not be allowed to abuse their freedom. As a good king, I intend to do everything in my power to alleviate the lot of my people. Taxation must not impoverish my citizens, but we cannot abolish taxes, since a state cannot exist without a treasury. So, I reminded them that I am the lord of my kingdom. All these are common words that every new monarch utters. But did you listen to me further? Do you remember what I said?”
“To the best of my ability and to the best of my memory, I tried to listen to Your Majesty’s words as carefully as possible,” Seguier said, thinking with horror that if the King asked what was so special about what he had said, he would have difficulty answering, or he might remember something completely different from what the King had in mind.
"I said that although I intend to follow in the footsteps of my first minister, Cardinal Mazarin, and be guided by his valuable advice, one of my first steps will nevertheless be to resolve henceforth to receive only the ministers of the Council of State, the highest government body, and to remove the Chancellor and the royal family from power," the King reminded. "To remove you, the Queen Mother, as well as Gaston d'Orl;ans, Philippe, Cond;, and all the princes of the blood, dukes, and peers. All of them will acquire the status of my advisors, meaning that they will give me their advice only when I ask for it, and not otherwise."
"Your Majesty is taking on a very heavy burden!" Seguier exclaimed, and then his heart went cold at the thought that he had once again given his assessment carelessly, even though the King had warned him not to do so.
Instead of answering, Louis looked at the chancellor with a heavy gaze, which made him feel uneasy.
"No documents drawn up by any member of my family or ministers are valid without my approval, and you must not place the royal seal on them," the King said firmly. "All proposals, decisions, and wishes—all of this can be considered by me only as requests or recommendations. I myself will decide which of these requests will be granted and which will be rejected."
Chancellor Seguier bowed low.
" The Queen asked for a certain Vicomte de Bragelonne," said the King. "She asked as if I couldn't refuse her. I didn't like her persistence. But I don't want to upset her. I will fulfill this request, but it will be the last time. Tell her everything I told you."
Seguier bowed again.
"Prepare the papers declaring the Viscount de Bragelonne to be the legitimate son of the Marquis de La F;re," Louis said casually. "Present this document for my signature, seal it, and hand it to the Queen Mother before you inform her of my decision."
“I’m listening, Your Majesty,” Seguier replied.
“After that, send this same Viscount to the active army, where things are now the worst,” added the King.
"I understand, Your Majesty," Seguier replied. "He will be sent west."
“Where exactly?” asked Louis.
“In Morocco,” Seguier replied.
“Excellent!” exclaimed the King. “I hope he stays there. Forever. However, don’t rush it. We’ll do it in a month. When events follow one another too quickly, people often see a cause and effect even where there is none. There’s no need to rush. Let the passions subside first. By the way, his father, the Marquis de La F;re, spoke of a certain La Valli;re, whom this Bragelonne was planning to marry. I believe she’s the Princess’s new maid of honor? Find out everything about her. It seems Bragelonne is madly in love with her, and his father asked my consent to this marriage. I wonder what they both saw in her? I must take a look at her.”

Half a day later, Chancellor Seguier conveyed to the Queen Mother the King's decree that Raoul, Viscount de Bragelonne, was recognized as the legitimate son of the Marquis de La F;re.
"Thank you, Chancellor," said the Queen. "Come and see me tomorrow; we need to discuss a project."
“Your Majesty, the King has ordered me to convey to you that from now on he will be solely responsible for government administration,” Seguier said in a quiet voice.
“Yes, of course, I heard about it in his throne speech,” the Queen replied.
“His Majesty has ordered that all members of the Royal Family be relieved of all government posts, and that ministers are prohibited from making decisions without his approval,” Seguier said even more quietly.
"So those weren't empty threats?" the Queen said. "Well, I expected him to be ungrateful, but I didn't think it would happen so soon."
Seguier bowed quietly and, backing away, left the Queen's office.

Chapter 232

The queen was determined to inform her son that he risked falling out with the nobles and ministers. To this end, she came to him for a conversation.
"Mother, I'm glad to see you!" Louis exclaimed. "Could you please take a look at this list? Have I forgotten anyone?"
With these words, Louis handed his mother a sheet of names.
Afraid to think what this list meant, the Queen took it with trembling hands.
First on the list was the Prince de Cond;, Louis II de Bourbon. He was followed by the Prince de Cond;, Henri-Jules de Bourbon; the Prince de Conti, Armand de Bourbon; the Duke of Verneuil, Henri de Bourbon; and the Duke of Beaufort, Fran;ois de Bourbon-Vend;me.
The Queen's heart pounded. She knew full well that all these princes had once opposed Mazarin's rule.
"Is this really a list of those people my son is going to proscribe?" she wondered. "Or are we in ancient Rome, and these are proscription lists?"
"What is this list, my son?" she asked, trying to remain calm.
"I've decided that by the end of the year, the most distinguished nobles, including princes, marshals, and ministers, should be awarded the Order of the Holy Spirit," the King replied indifferently. "It's not an urgent matter, but we must prepare for it in advance. After all, we'll have to commission jewelers to make all these orders! And that's a considerable expense! I'll have the necessary funds raised."
The Queen's heart was relieved. Her son was preparing to appease those who might rebel! And he was smart, her son!
“He is a real King,” the Queen thought proudly. “He is my son!”
"Well, this matter is so important and delicate, my son, that only you can decide it," she said, trying to combine a smile with obsequiousness in such a way that it was neither one nor the other. "However, of course, if you ask my advice, allow me to take a closer look."
She read the list with pleasure, finding the names of all those who, in her opinion, truly needed to be appeased. Among these names, there were almost none who should simply be rewarded for good and faithful service. It was no wonder her son had studied the works of Machiavelli.
"Do you think, my son, that Louis-Charles d'Albert, Duke of Luynes, should also receive the Order of the Holy Spirit?" asked the Queen. "This son of the Duchess de Chevreuse from her first marriage seems to be in no way remarkable."
"The son of your faithful friend, Mother," Louis clarified. "After all, you seem to have maintained a wonderful relationship with the Duchess?"
The Queen doubted whether there was hidden irony in her son's phrase, or whether it only seemed so to her.
“Thank you, my son,” she said. “The Duchess will be very pleased.”
She became engrossed in reading the list.
"Fran;ois VI, Duke of La Rochefoucauld," she said. "This rebel!"
" During the time when Cardinal Richelieu was persecuting you, the Duke of La Rochefoucauld, as I was told, rendered you some important services, did he not?" asked the King.
"He only spent a week in the Bastille and didn't hand over Chevrette," the Queen replied, shrugging. "But if you only knew, my son, how insolently he practically demanded a reward from me for this insignificant act of devotion after God had taken Richelieu and your father! He practically laid claim to the post of first minister!"
"Well, Mother, you were quite right in not satisfying these demands, but now we can afford to flatter his vanity with the Order of the Holy Spirit, which won't cost us as much as Cardinal Mazarin paid for peace of mind," the King replied. "He seems to have taken a liking to literature. Let him write aphorisms and maxims, and if he decides to write memoirs, perhaps he'll lie less about us. Although, of course, he won't be able to avoid lying entirely, as that's the bane of all memoirists."
"You are absolutely right, my son!" the Queen agreed. "The Cardinal, by virtue of his status, could not award the Order of the Holy Spirit to nobles and ministers, whereas you can. So why not take advantage of this 'carrot,' which was unavailable to the Cardinal? I approve of your decision! Let's move down the list. Antoine III, Marshal de Gramont, father of the Comte de Guiche and Catherine-Charlotte, who became Princess of Monaco last year. He was loyal to us during the Fronde; his name should have topped this list. Here is a man who earned the Order of the Holy Spirit through his devoted service to Your Majesty!"
"I completely agree, Mother," Louis agreed. "I will soon make him a Duke and a peer, and also governor of some important border region, like B;arn."
"Very wise, Your Majesty," the Queen agreed. "Who's next on the list? Mazarin's nephew, Philippe-Julien Mancini, Duke of Nevers. Well, he's a worthy young man. The Cardinal would be grateful for your decision."
"The Cardinal's advice was very helpful, Mother," the King replied. "By rewarding my nephew, I will pay tribute to my uncle."
"Fran;ois de Comminges, Lord de Guithot," the Queen continued. "Excellent. We could also include his relative, Guillaume de Percheperoux de Comminges, Count de Guithot. Both serve Your Majesty not out of fear, but out of conscience. Fran;ois-Ren; Crespin du Bec, Marquis de Wardes. He seems to dislike Count de Guiche, son of Marshal de Gramont?"
“I don’t care who they dislike,” said the King. “What’s worse is that they both seem to have their eye on Princess Henrietta. It’s an insult to my brother. I’ll pet them both, and then I’ll discipline them. Each of them.”
"Very wise," the Queen repeated her assessment. "Who else is there? Paul de Gondi, Cardinal de Retz? He should have remained Coadjutor of Paris for the rest of his life! Even the post of Coadjutor is too great for him! After all, he is the culprit and initiator of the hated Fronde! Mazarin only went so far as to secure him a cardinal's hat to reconcile the two sides."
"And he got his way," said the King. "And I'm learning from the Cardinal. That toothy jackal is best kept well-fed. And close at hand. He's less dangerous under close supervision. Besides, he agreed to sell Belle-Ile, which is now mine. And he, too, seems inclined toward literary pursuits, in the realm of memoir writing."
"My son, I see that the list you've compiled is well thought out; you don't need my advice," the Queen concluded. "I'm unlikely to be able to add anyone to it."
"He is the King by the will of fate, and he is already fulfilling this lofty mission well, even at his young age!" thought the Queen. "The Cardinal advised him not to share power, and he took that advice. What do I want from him? After all, I have spent his entire life convincing him that the Cardinal is wise and experienced, that his advice is invaluable, and indeed it was. I must accept that."
She left her son's office completely satisfied. She no longer wanted to complain about her son's so-called ingratitude.

Chapter 233

“Saint-Aignan, tell me who La Valli;re is,” the King demanded.
"Louise de Labeaume-Leblanc, born August 6, 1644, in Tours to a large, poor family, daughter of the valiant Marshal Laurent de Labeaume-Leblanc. Her mother was Fran;oise de Pr;vost," replied Saint-Aignan. "A true daughter of Touraine, she loves horseback riding. As a child, she fell from a horse, which left her with a slight limp. She loves to read. She's not stupid. She's modest."
“Beautiful?” Louis inquired.
"It's an acquired taste, Your Majesty," replied Sen-Enyan. "She's thin and pale, and she had smallpox as a child, and her face still bears traces of the disease."
“Enough,” replied the King. “That’s not interesting. If this Bragelonne wants to marry her so much, let him. He’s going to Morocco in a month anyway. Let him knock her up and then get the hell out. The Marquis de la F;re will have offspring with the Marshal’s daughter. He’ll have nothing to complain about. As for Bragelonne himself, I don’t like hearing that name.”
The King remembered that the Queen Mother had insisted on legitimizing him, and that this was precisely what had caused the hostility towards him, although the King, in fact, did not know Raoul, and he had no reason not only to hate him, but even to feel any hostility.
“Seigneur-Aignan, inform the Marquis de La F;re that I consent to the marriage of his son with Mademoiselle La Valli;re,” said the King.

Meanwhile, the Duchess de Chevreuse had a conversation with Louise de La Valli;re, inviting her to her place.
“ My child, I have two reasons for wanting to have a quick word with you,” she said.
“Your Grace, I am always at your service,” Louise answered modestly.
"Well, well, we are not in Tours, my child. There is no place here for those ancient vassal relations that are still found here and there in the provinces," the Duchess replied, trying to infuse her words with all the kindness she had once observed in others and of which she could find almost none in herself. "Here, at His Majesty's court, you can forget that I am the most noble lady from the place where you come from, or rather remember that several times, if I am not mistaken, you were with your brothers and sisters at my ball."
"And I remember those balls with gratitude and delight, Your Highness!" exclaimed La Valli;re and bowed.
"Remember, my child, at court it is proper for a lady-in-waiting to bow only to the King, Princes, and Princesses, and I am only a duchess," Chevrette said, flattered by such respect. "Here at court, you have so few patrons that I will apparently have to take the place of your mother."
"You are very kind, Your Grace!" Louise replied, not understanding the reason for the Duchess's unexpected disposition towards her.
"You're probably wondering what I'd like to talk to you about," said the Duchess. "Well, I won't keep you waiting. The first reason for my interest in you is the extraordinary interest of a young man to whom I intend to offer my most sincere patronage. The fact is, he's the son of a very close and dear friend of mine, so I'm even more interested in him than if I were his godmother. Can you guess who I'm talking about?"
“You speak of Raoul, Vicomte de Bragelonne, madam, and I acknowledge that he is my close and faithful friend, with whom I should like to maintain friendly relations for life, if only it were possible,” replied Louise.
"You seem to doubt such a possibility, my child?" Chevrette asked with surprise. "What could prevent you from maintaining friendly relations with Raoul? After all, you seem to be planning to get married, and although marriage often destroys friendly relations between a man and a woman, I can honestly tell you that this is far from certain. In some cases, although I am not speaking from personal experience, I have heard that spouses can maintain affection and friendly feelings for each other for many years, and even, it seems, for life. I will give you examples later, when I can recall them.
"But, Your Grace, I have no intention of becoming Raoul de Bragelonne's wife!" Louise exclaimed. "I feel only friendship for him, and I hope he doesn't intend to develop our friendship into something more significant, as you've hinted at. I have no intention of marriage!"
"Why, my dear, did you agree to become the Princess's maid of honor if you have no intention of arranging your personal life?" the Duchess asked in surprise. "As far as I know, the Duchess de Saint-R;my went to great lengths to ensure that her recommendation to the Queen Mother was taken into account, and that the Queen included you among Madame's maids of honor."
"You yourself were pleased to recall that I have many brothers and sisters, Your Grace," Louise replied. "My parents are not in a position to provide all their sons with an estate, nor all their daughters with a worthy dowry. For this reason, my parents assumed that a convent would be my destiny, since, as you may have noticed, I limp slightly after a nasty fall from a horse in early childhood. I have learned to hide my limp while dancing, but this is very difficult for me. My mother has taught me that with my physical disabilities and the lack of a proper dowry, I cannot expect a successful marriage. For this reason, I have long been ready to enter a convent, but my mother begged me to postpone this matter and try my luck as a lady-in-waiting to Her Highness. If in three or four years, perhaps five years, I do not meet a young man after my heart who would agree to marry me, I will enter a convent." My mother and I agreed on this.
"What's wrong with Raoul de Bragelonne?" asked the Duchess, feeling offended on her son's behalf.
"I never saw Raoul as a future groom, because my mother had convinced me that he was not a match for me, ever since he was considered a foundling orphan without family or lineage, even though the Comte de la F;re had raised him as a nobleman," Louise said. "When the Comte declared him his son, it didn't change my mother's opinion; she made little distinction between a rootless orphan and a bastard, believing them to be unsuitable for a purebred noblewoman, even one not as wealthy as Raoul and his father. But that didn't matter to me. The most important thing for me was that I felt nothing but friendship for Raoul. For this reason, my mother never allowed the thought that our friendship could develop into something more, and it was precisely for this reason that she looked with indulgence on our friendship, on our frequent horseback rides together through the forests and meadows. You must admit, racing along a country road or riding side by side through a forest you've known since childhood—though romantic—is still not the same as holding the hand of your loved one with trepidation and being happy just because he's there, breathing the same air with him, looking into his eyes and seeing deep love in them.
"That's true, my child, but the love you speak of can sometimes blossom during those walks you and Raoul took together, can't it?" asked the Duchess. "Why was your mother so sure this wouldn't happen, and why didn't it?"
"I don't know why people love each other," Louise replied. "Perhaps it's because we were raised differently and have different interests. The only thing we have in common is a love of horseback riding along forest paths, but happiness can't be built on that. He aspires to a military career, while even hunting ducks, hares, or boars seems cruel to me. He aspires to the glory of his father, the Comte de la F;re, but the Comte is unmarried and, it seems, has no intention of marrying, as he is quite content with his bachelor life. The same is true of the Comte's few friends, as far as I know. In their youth, they were constantly fighting, not only in war but also in duels, and in their spare time, they played ball, dice, and cards, sometimes losing a fortune, and had short-lived affairs with married ladies of the demi-monde, and even with the keepers of taverns or inns." I heard that one of the count's friends was simultaneously courting a noblewoman and her maid, pledging his love to both. I don't blame them; I simply don't want such a husband.
"Who would you like as a husband?" asked the Duchess.
"At first, I dreamed of some young poet or playwright, someone with a keen sense of feeling and the ability to express his thoughts beautifully," Louise said. "I wanted him to be able not only to ride a horse, which is, of course, very important to me, but also to dance, sing, draw, perhaps write poetry, or compose music, and for him to love only me and not think of a military career. Even if he wasn't of great nobility."
"I understand," said the Duchess. "So Raoul is not right for you. Perhaps you shouldn't have given him hope, since he still doesn't know it and considers you his fianc;e."
"God knows, Your Grace, I never gave him any reason to hope for my love!" Louise exclaimed passionately. "That is, for anything more than friendship."
"Friendship between a man and a woman, my child, is always the hope of something more, at least on one side," the Duchess said didactically. "It may last a long time if the man does not lose hope and the woman does not give in, but it still will not be friendship in the sense that this word means when we speak of people of the same sex. In any case, I do not know of any such examples. For a long time, I thought I was friends with the Duke Fran;ois de La Rochefoucauld, but it turned out I was wrong. More precisely, I always assumed he was in love with me, but I never showed it, and he never insisted on our friendship developing into something more. Incidentally, his infatuation with me did not prevent him from courting many other ladies, often before my eyes, such as the Duchess de Longueville. But that is beside the point. We women can, to a certain extent, exploit men's feelings for our own benefit, sometimes feeding them with vague promises that don't commit us to anything. But I take Raoul de Bragelonne's fate too seriously to allow him to be fooled in this way. You need to explain yourself to him so he doesn't harbor any illusions about you, my dear.
"Your Grace, I'll refuse him immediately if he mentions an engagement or marriage, but he's never spoken to me about it!" Louise objected. "I can't possibly initiate a conversation on that topic!"
"You are right, my child, there is absolutely nothing to reproach you for," the Duchess agreed. "If he hasn't proposed or tried to speak frankly about his feelings for you, then all those illusions about marriage with you are only in his head, and no one can explain his mistake until he expresses them. Well, we've cleared up the first question, and so much the worse for poor Raoul, but perhaps it's his good fortune that he can forget about marriage with you."
"I don't understand you, Your Grace," Louise said, alarmed. "You mean to say that marriage with me would have been a sure disaster for him, so that upon learning that it was impossible, you breathed a sigh of relief?"
"Exactly so, my child," replied the Duchess. "Let us talk rather about what you think of our King as a man."
At these words, Louise turned pale and her hands began to tremble.
"Your Grace, how could you know?" she exclaimed.
"What news!" thought the Duchess. "I was just going to tell her that the King was interested in her for some reason, but it seems there's some secret hidden here! Secrets are my passion! I'll be curious to find out what it is!"

Chapter 234
 
"My child," said the Duchess, "in my life I have observed so many happy and unhappy couples in love, so many maidens and matrons have shared their most intimate secrets with me, that I have already become something of an expert in matters of love. Life itself has taught me much from my own experience. And how much I have suffered from unrequited love! And from unfounded suspicions! I could heal souls wounded by love, if such a position existed at court.
"Then you will understand me, Your Highness!" Louise exclaimed with relief. "You said you would be my mother here in Paris, at the King's court. Can I trust you as I would not trust even my mother herself?"
"Of course, my child!" the Duchess replied, putting as much gentleness and love into her answer as possible.
"Excellent, now I'm about to learn another secret," she thought. "It's certainly a good idea to know as many other people's secrets as possible. Every secret is worth something; with some of them, you can sometimes make a fortune or protect yourself from harm."
"I confess to you that I fell in love with him at first sight, the moment I saw him!" Louise exclaimed. "As soon as I laid eyes on him, my heart began to pound so hard it felt like it would leap out of my chest. I was afraid those standing next to me would hear my heartbeat! I was so overcome with emotion that I nearly fainted, and only the fear of falling right in front of him kept me conscious, even though I heard nothing but his voice and saw no one but him.
"How did he react to this?" asked the Duchess.
"He's standing so high up that I don't think he even noticed me," Louise said despairingly. "And no wonder, because everyone around was looking only at him, and he seemed to be looking only at the Princess."
"She's fallen in love with the King!" the Duchess guessed. "Madwoman! How can one fall in love with the King? It's unreasonable. Every woman at court would like to make the King fall in love with her, but none of them should fall in love with him, for such a feeling can bring nothing good but misfortune."
"I understand you, my dear child," said Chevrette, hoping to extract more information from Louise, taking advantage of her outburst of frankness. "Tell me all about your feelings."
"Even though I've read a lot of books, I can't express my feelings in words," Louise replied. "I can only say that since that meeting, when he didn't even look at me, I live only in thoughts of him."
"And you, of course, hope for reciprocity?" asked the Duchess.
"Not at all!" Louise exclaimed. "How could the King be interested in some poor, dowryless, lame, skinny girl? Don't argue, Your Grace, I know myself that everyone says that about me, and it's fair."
"Firstly, it's unfair," the Duchess lied. "Secondly, your dowry is of no importance, since in France everything belongs to the King, and he has no need to worry about what share of his kingdom's wealth belongs to whomever he pleases. If he so chooses, he'll make you a Duchess and give you riches your good mother never dreamed of."
"I have absolutely no need for the position of a duchess or any riches!" Louise exclaimed. "If he would only allow me to look at him occasionally and live in the dream of his happiness, and to simply know that there is a girl's heart in this world beating for him, that would be happiness for me, and I have no aspirations for more. Although even the little I have said seems impossible to me."
"She's completely selfless, or very cleverly pretending to be," thought the Duchess. "In either case, it could work! Louis is so romantic and sentimental! And he's never met a girl like her, capable of such simple, sincere, and unpretentious feelings, without the slightest self-interest. If it works, and this little one continues to treat me with the awe I inspire in her with my high position in Tours, her homeland, it could prove useful! And we'll find someone better for Raoul than this skinny, lame girl!"
"My child, you needlessly underestimate your own merits," the Duchess said tenderly. "Among the haughty ladies and overripe maidens at court, you stand out like an innocent lily, distinguished by your purity, innocence, and grace. You have such a sweet face, a supple and slender figure, captivating blue eyes, and luxurious blond hair that you could break more than one man's heart! And I can't guarantee the King won't fall in love with you! Be yourself and don't be afraid to attract His Majesty's attention, and let what will happen, happen. Your high qualities cannot go unnoticed, I assure you. Moreover, I believe you are quite a skillful horseman, so take advantage of the next opportunity to demonstrate it."
“It is not proper for ladies-in-waiting to ride on horseback,” Louise objected timidly.
" If the princess decides to go horseback riding, she can take with her those ladies-in-waiting who are skilled enough to accompany her," the Duchess disagreed. "I remember Henrietta loved horseback riding when she lived in France. Just think how charming Diane de Poitiers was on a white horse!"
Louise did not answer, and the Duchess wondered if she had gone too far in recalling Henry II's official mistress .
"Tell me, my dear child," said the Duchess, "if the King told you that he loved you, what would you say?"
"I would say that I am completely in His power and belong entirely to Him!" Louise exclaimed in delight.
"Listen to me now, my dear," said the Duchess decisively. "If you tell him that, he will reject you with contempt, or else he will make use of you once or twice, no more, and then forget you, and the whole court will laugh at you."
"Be it so, but at least these two times I will be happy!" Louise exclaimed. "And then let me die, or go to a monastery, where my good mother was planning to confine me anyway."
“Well, if you prefer such a fate to a long and tender love for many years, then do as you please,” the duchess answered with visible indifference.
"But how should I behave then?" Louise asked.
"Give in to his persistence gradually, one step at a time," the Duchess replied. "Men are created by God himself to extract from us, weak women, what we don't want and aren't prepared to give them. If the prize they desire comes to them without the slightest effort, they won't value it. But if they had to fight for it, sacrifice much, give up much, do something unusual, out of the ordinary—then only they will derive the greatest pleasure from possessing it."
"Are you teaching me coquetry, Your Highness?" Louise asked.
“I’m teaching you about life, my dear child,” the Duchess replied. “You won’t have a second chance to make a good first impression. A king is almost a divine being, and only an angel is worthy of stirring his feelings. So be that angel, and even if he seems to ignore you at your first meeting, rest assured, he will not let your modesty go unnoticed. Imagine the pride of a hunter who has spent half a day galloping on horseback with a pack of hounds on the trail of a wild boar and brought it down with a well-aimed shot, or even worse, a thrust from a spear! It’s nothing compared to finishing off a domestic pig that didn’t even think of running away. Getting what he wants without a fight is like a hunter receiving game on a platter, gutted and roasted, without a chase. Such game has no taste for them. And they are the same in love.” Seducing a girl who is unwilling, but rather intent on maintaining her virginity, is their most coveted reward, while having an affair with a lady-in-waiting who is ready to prove her devotion and obedience at the first call is a trifle, something they laughingly tell every friend about, after which the affair is forgotten as if it never happened. A man is flattered by the knowledge that only out of great love for him has a confirmed virgin broken her vow of chastity, for it proves their exceptionalism! Long ago, the father of the current King, Louis XIII , turned his august attention to Mademoiselle de Lafayette, whom he considered an angel in the flesh. His favorite, Saint-Simon, decided to offer His Majesty assistance in arranging an intimate encounter with her. This thought so outraged the King that he quarreled with Saint-Simon, but also cooled his feelings for Mademoiselle de Lafayette, even though nothing proved her availability other than Saint-Simon's assumption. Of course, our current King is more temperamentally similar to his grandfather, Henry IV , and keeping him on dry rations forever is unwise. But if he is allowed to avail himself of the gifts of love, it should only be after prolonged resistance and a long-term platonic relationship.
"Thank you for the lesson, Your Grace," Louise replied. "I will take your lessons into consideration."
“That’s not all, my dear,” the Duchess continued. “After the King declares his love for you, continue to be an angel who, as if by chance, allowed herself to lose a feather from her angelic wing. Let everything you allow the King be given to him only after a severe and lengthy siege. Men are warriors and hunters by nature, accustomed to conquering what they desire. They must fight for the right to possess it. Every time. Let it be more difficult for him to receive tokens of love the second time than the first; let him see the remorse and despair at your realization of your weakness before the power of your irresistible love for him! This will raise your value in his eyes. Let him think that luck smiled upon him the first time, and that he will still have to fight for the second. And for this to happen the third and subsequent times, he will have to change himself to better match your high ideals. Then, perhaps, your love will give birth to a sincere reciprocal feeling in him, and, in any case, he will value and respect you.
“I will remember this, Your Grace,” Louise said quietly.
"And finally, one more thing," said Chevrette. "Once he is entirely yours, once you feel your power over him, ask him for nothing, neither for yourself nor for your family and friends. This is important."
"Oh, Your Grace, I never thought of that!" said Louise.
"Nobody thinks about it until the opportunity presents itself," the Duchess agreed. "But the moment the King asks you, 'My love, what can I do for you?' any wild idea might pop into your pretty, fair head."
“I don’t need anything,” Louise answered uncertainly.
"You have a mother who, upon learning of your happiness, will force you to fuss over your brothers and sisters," the Duchess persisted. "Are you really going to refuse your mother's request? Are you really going to ride around in carriages with diamond necklaces around your delicate neck, while your kind mother scrapes together a dowry for your sisters?"
"You are saying terrible things, Your Grace!" Louise exclaimed.
"I'm speaking of the most ordinary things," replied the Duchess. "Do you really think that the King will give you wildflowers plucked from under your feet, and not a diamond necklace?"
“I would be glad to have flowers,” Louise replied, feeling that her words sounded unconvincing even to herself.
"So say it, my dear child," the Duchess agreed. "Make it clear that simple attention is more precious to you than any gifts, and then gifts will pour down upon you like water from a cornucopia. Ask for nothing. Let the King himself offer you what you could have asked of him but chose not to. Whatever you might ask of him, he himself will offer much more, and will even persuade you to accept it, and will be grateful that after much persuasion you yield to him and allow him to do for you what you did not ask for. Then you will be a Duchess, your brothers, sisters, nephews, and perhaps God knows who else, they will all be favored by him for your sake and will be no less than marquises."
“Everything you tell me, Your Highness, seems unreal, like a fairy tale, an impossible reality,” said Louise.
"But tell me, don't you dream about everything we just talked about?" asked the Duchess.
“I didn’t even think about it,” Louise replied.
"If you hadn't thought about that, you wouldn't have come to Paris and entered the service of Her Highness the Princess as a maid of honor," the Duchess replied with a laugh. "You can tell me the truth, my dear. After all, we agreed that I would be your mother, didn't we?"
“I think you’re mistaken,” Louise said uncertainly.
"I think you're mistaken in assessing your own actions and aspirations," the Duchess countered. "You were in love with the King long before you came to Paris. You've seen him before. I don't know where or when. Perhaps he passed by your house once. Or perhaps you've only seen his portrait."
"Why did you decide that, Your Grace?" Louise asked, feeling a chill run down her spine as she realized the Duchess had revealed the deepest secret she had been afraid to admit to herself.
"Because if that weren't true, you wouldn't say you don't love Raoul de Bragelonne," the Duchess replied. "Only the person who knows a different kind of love—an adult, true love—can resolutely refuse to call a long childhood friendship love. If you didn't love the King, you'd sincerely believe you loved your Raoul. And you'd agree to marry him, because it's better than being buried alive in a convent."
Louise covered her face with both hands and her thin shoulders shook with sobs.
" I..." she said, "I feel so guilty before poor Raoul! But I can't help myself! Nothing!"
"In Raoul's name, I forgive you and absolve you of any involuntary guilt for this minor misunderstanding," the Duchess said solemnly. "Believe me, this misunderstanding is not your fault, but the Count de la F;re's, who failed to teach his son to listen to the feelings of a woman he cares for. This is the fundamental skill every man needs, along with the ability to ride a horse, fight with a sword, fire a musket, and shed blood for his King. This skill remains a mystery to poor Raoul. The Count failed to teach it to his son because he himself lacks it. There is another person, his mother, who also bears responsibility for this gap in Raoul's education, and I hope that the Lord will forgive her for this sin and not punish her for it by ruining her son's life. May what must be done be done, and may His will be accepted with humility!" Dry your tears, my child, and follow your destiny, not forgetting my lessons.
Louise kissed the Duchess's hands, curtsied and left.
 
Chapter 235
 
XIV said to Henrietta during their walk, as soon as they had managed to get rid of the spies.
"Your Majesty, England is boring!" the Princess replied, her lips curling into a charming grimace. "You know how I love Paris! It's my second homeland."
"Now, cousin, France is your first homeland," the King objected. "You are the wife of my brother, the Dauphin! You belong to the second family in the Kingdom. Are you satisfied with this situation?"
"I'm happy to see you more often, Your Majesty," Henrietta replied. "You didn't ask why I'm bored in England."
"Why were you bored in England, cousin?" asked the King.
“Because you weren’t there, Your Majesty,” Henrietta answered coquettishly.
"You're teasing me!" Louis exclaimed. "Be careful I don't plan anything that might displease my brother!"
“I don’t understand what you’re talking about, Your Majesty, but it seems to me that none of your actions can be condemned by any of your subjects,” Henrietta said even more coquettishly and smiled slyly.
"She's in love with me!" thought Louis. "My God, how charming she is! Why did I have to marry that boring Maria Theresa? If I was destined to marry my own cousin for political gain, let Philippe marry her, and I should marry Henrietta!"
"Tell me what your favorite activities are, sister!" said Louis.
" Anything we can do together with you, Your Majesty!" Henrietta replied cheerfully.
"Would you like me to take your hand, sister?" asked the King.
"Oh, Your Majesty, don't trifle with this!" Henrietta retorted with feigned fear. "I beg you, don't let our pleasant conversation reach such a dangerous stage, where I fear I won't have the strength to resist desires that, God knows, I already find difficult to control! Let's break our solitude and call someone, otherwise I can't vouch for myself, and lest this cause harm to my husband, and your brother!"
“Oh, don’t worry, Philippe is not jealous of me,” Louis replied serenely.
"Perhaps he's jealous, but afraid to show it?" asked the Princess. "If he's not jealous of you, he's a fool, but if he is, he's a rebel."
"What interesting logic!" exclaimed Louis.
"Oh God, I'm afraid for myself, I'm shaking all over!" the Princess pleaded mockingly.
"Are you afraid I'll lose my temper?" the King asked, surprised.
"What are you saying, sir! I fear for myself and for my lack of restraint!" Henrietta exclaimed, quickly moving away from the King and waving to her ladies-in-waiting to come to her.
"She absolutely loves me," thought Louis. "What an interesting adventure this could be! I must retreat to inflame her desire!"
"Princess, I'm boring you, so I'm leaving you," said the King. "But know that the next time you want to talk to me, I'll try to choose a more cheerful topic."
And without giving the Princess a chance to answer, the King turned sharply and headed towards Saint-Aignan, who was standing delicately nearby and waiting for His Majesty to deign to remember him.
"He's already started hunting me," thought Henrietta. "Well, he'll be mine!"

"Saint-Aignan, think of a way to remove all these annoying witnesses from my next walk with the Princess," said Louis. "Or at least think of a way for us to whisper privately."
"Your Majesty, I believe we should plan some kind of entertainment," the clever courtier promptly suggested. "The best excuse for gallant adventures might be a holiday. Hunting and knightly tournaments, as they were held in the time of your great-grandfather and even grandfather, are not the kind of activities that attract ladies."
"What do you propose?" asked the King.
"Divertissements, ballet, plays, dancing!" exclaimed Saint-Aignan. "Or at least strolls on the lawns with a picnic. A walk and a feast in the fresh air are ideal for encouraging the strollers to break up into small groups, and then into pairs. After all, smelling flowers, listening to birdsong, and enjoying every rustle of leaves, every breath of wind, is impossible in a crowd. The organizer of such a celebration might, at a certain point, suggest that those present break up into pairs and listen to the singing of a nightingale or other songbirds. This can be very romantic.
"You are right, Saint-Aignan!" exclaimed the King. "I command. The position of Chief Intendant for Divertissements must be established. He will issue orders to the First Gentleman of the Bedchamber, who will head the Ministry of Pleasures. This Gentleman of the Bedchamber will oversee all performers of the festivities."
"The Ministry of Pleasure!" exclaimed Saint-Aignan. "A brilliant idea, Your Majesty!"
The King, flattered, proudly raised his head and looked towards the Princess.
"She'll be surprised and delighted!" he thought. "But I'll have to be careful how I meet her, so as not to irritate Philip unnecessarily. After all, Mother will certainly intervene and stand up for him!"

The extremely friendly relationship between the King and the Princess, far from familial, but rather gallant, developed rapidly. As expected, the Queen Mother admonished Louis, since, although she had lost her power in the realm, as the King's mother, she continued to enjoy some authority with him. Louis was forced to deny any sympathy between himself and the Princess beyond the proper familial feelings of a cousin. He shared the results of this conversation with Henrietta, who came up with the idea of using the King's supposed attraction to one of the Princess's ladies-in-waiting as a cover. Henrietta herself chose Louise de La Valli;re (or, more precisely, Louise-Fran;oise de la Baume le Blanc de La Valli;re) as a cover for the King's frequent visits to the Princess's apartments. Naturally, she tried to choose the least attractive lady-in-waiting, so her choice fell on a modest, lame woman with the scars of smallpox on her face. She could not have imagined that the modesty and sincere love that Louise would soon demonstrate to the King would ignite a very strong reciprocal feeling in the young King's chest, and that the apparent or actual lack of any material demands on Louise's part would be such an unusual and unexpected bonus to the virtues he saw in her that he would try to bestow upon his new passion everything permissible in this situation, and, above all, make her a duchess. The glow of unexpected favor also illuminated all her relatives; many of them rose to prominence without merit, occupying high positions without possessing the talent or diligence required to fulfill new, highly responsible responsibilities. Chevrette's lessons proved beneficial to little Louise.
I'm not inclined to romanticize the love of Mademoiselle de La Valli;re and King Louis XIV , for I'm convinced that had Louis not been the King, Louise would not have paid attention to him, and had Louise not been so "inaccessible" in the first days and even weeks of their rapprochement, Louis would soon have forgotten her. I cannot attribute de Louise's unapproachability to natural modesty, piety, or selflessness. A modest and pious girl would never have yielded to the King and would have entered a convent at the first sign of danger. A selfless Louise would not have accepted the title of Duchess and all the gifts that showered her and her family with. A God-fearing girl would not have given birth to five illegitimate children, even if their father had been the King himself. As a representative of the Church, I can say that the Lord resisted for a long time before accepting this relationship. This is evidenced by the fact that the first three children from this relationship lived less than a year and a half—precisely the time during which parents can become so attached to their children that their loss is felt most intensely, as God's punishment. But apparently even God has limits to His severity, for He, too, relented, and the fourth and fifth children from Louis and Louise's relationship survived this fateful age barrier of a year and a half. One fortuneteller predicted that the fate of Louise and Louis's children would be favorable if they were conceived in early January. The prediction came true. Marie Anne de Bourbon, born on October 2, 166, had recently, in 1680, married Louis Armand I de Bourbon-Conti, and Louis de Bourbon, also born on October 2, but exactly a year later, in 1667, was created Count of Vermandois and Admiral of France at the age of two. If the people of France ever dethrone their kings, the very fact that monarchs, even when they father illegitimate children, are capable of appointing them admirals of France at the age of two might serve as an argument for forgiving them for such insolence. Against this backdrop, Gaius Caligula, who intended to introduce his favorite horse to the Roman Senate but chose not to, appears a perfectly reasonable ruler.
At this very time an event occurred as a result of which I became the General of the Jesuit Order.

Chapter 236
 
Let me ignore the whole romantic web of fantasies and conjectures that Grimaud, in his memoirs, signed without any basis by the name of the Count de La F;re, sets forth regarding love triangles, trapezoids and other figures that arose and developed at the court of King Louis XIV .
All these fantasies of love, happy and unhappy, successful and fatal, were gleaned by poor Grimaud from the books in the library of the Comte de la F;re. Athos's lackey seriously believed that Princess Henrietta was madly in love with the King, as was Mademoiselle de La Valli;re; that the Comte de Guiche and the Chevalier de Lorraine were both madly in love with Princess Henrietta; that Fouquet was in love with Madame du Plessis-Belli;re, as she was with him; that the King was in love with both Princess Henrietta and Louise de La Valli;re.
All this is nonsense and nonsense. I, of course, understand a little more about these matters than that inveterate bachelor, servant, and squire Grimaud. I, who have confessed tens of thousands of young women in my long life and almost as many men, who have had as mistresses three duchesses, a Spanish woman, the wife of a nobleman, four countesses, and even a princess! I won't even mention ordinary noblewomen, and especially not commoners. All these ladies, or almost all, have passed through my life without leaving a noticeable trace, except, perhaps, two. The first was Chevrette, with whom I knew the divine joys of heaven and the torments of hell, whom I adored and worshiped, and later hated and cursed, and for the longest time, these two feelings for her coexisted in the most astonishing way. The second was, of course, the Duchess de Longueville. And I do not intend to write anything about this relationship, because I have undertaken to write these memoirs in order to clear my memory of these recollections and never return to them again, but I do not intend to banish from my memory a single second spent with my Anne-Genevieve, with my Ange, as I called her.
Henrietta loved Louis! Don't make me laugh! She was flattered by the attentions of the most powerful man in the kingdom, despite the fact that she herself was the wife of the second-most powerful man in that very kingdom and, before the Dauphin's birth, had every chance of becoming Queen of France herself if her husband inherited the throne. But she wanted power over this man. If he had been not the King, but a mere Prince of the Blood, she most likely wouldn't have paid him the slightest attention. Count de Guiche's passion for the Princess was based on precisely the same sense of pride. Lieutenant Armand de Gramont, Count de Guiche, enjoyed great success with the ladies of the King's court. For this reason, this wasn't enough for him, so he decided to conquer the most prominent lady at court – Princess Henrietta. Conquering Queen Maria Theresa was out of the question; such impudence could lead to the loss of one's head. Philippe d'Orl;ans, it seemed, wasn't at all jealous of his young wife's relationship with de Guiche, considering such a misalliance impossible. De Guiche intended to take advantage of this. Henrietta simply toyed with him like a cat with a mouse, flattered by the attentions of this young and handsome philanderer. The fact is, at that very time, such frivolous gallantry had become established at court that for any noble lady to have no admirers at all was tantamount to being considered completely unattractive. Appearing in the street unaccompanied by admirers was as unacceptable as going out in disguise. However, disguise would have been less shameful, since some ladies quite accepted certain visitors without even getting up from their beds, just as Anne of Austria once did with the madman Buckingham, as I've already described. So, de Guiche was flattered by the thought that the Princess would fall in love with him, think about him day and night, worry and fret. He didn't expect more. This womanizer, who could easily seduce almost any lady-in-waiting, despite the Princess harboring no feelings for him, passionately desired to conquer her, but his desire wasn't so strong that one could say he was desperate. He was just an ordinary gallant suitor, the kind of man who filled the court of Louis XIV .
The king made it his mission to transform the noble knights, warriors, duelists, and haughty feudal lords into gallant courtiers, submissive to his will and seeking his favor. To this end, he organized festivals, and these festivals were a means of influencing the nobles. He wanted them not to sit on their estates, nursing grudges and arming themselves just in case, but to swarm around him like bees around a bowl of syrup, hoping for various favors.
As for Fouquet's affair with Madame du Plessis-Belli;re, there was nothing romantic about it either. The deeply married Fouquet, with grown children, was constantly having affairs, fueled by his vast fortune, his generosity toward those he was interested in, and his supreme self-importance. Upon seeing a new beauty who wasn't his, he immediately became consumed with desire to possess her, and his large income greatly contributed to his success. Madame du Plessis-Belli;re was one of the few intelligent women in his vast network of mistresses, intelligent enough not to expect her lover to feel the slightest discomfort from their relationship. She immediately declared that she had no intention of seeking more than he was willing to give her. In other words, she didn't expect Fouquet to leave his lawful wife and marry her, nor did she expect him to give her more money than he was willing to give. In her presence, he could not only proclaim his love for her but also discuss his own problems, including his relationships with his wife and children. She thus became, as it were, a member of his family, and even became friends with his wife and children, which gave Fouquet reason to trust her in everything and to say that he had no secrets from her, nor could he have any.
As for Louise de La Valli;re, Grimaud's version of her purity and naivety is shattered by the way she behaved toward her so-called betrothed, Raoul, Vicomte de Bragelonne. Of course, she was no secret of his feelings toward her. By feigning ignorance, she merely betrayed herself. How could a young woman who had accepted the position of maid of honor to the Princess, witnessing gallantry constantly there, not understand the nature of Raoul's friendship? We might as well assume she had no idea how a woman differs from a man. Nonsense! Even nuns raised in a convent are well versed in the intimate relationships between a boy and a girl. She understood perfectly well what values she possessed in the eyes of young people, and had no intention of bestowing these values on her neighbor from Blois, intending to invest them much more profitably in her own destiny, which is what she did.
I must also acknowledge that the alleged dialogues between me and the Commandant of the Bastille, de Besmos, in Grimaud's writings are completely fictitious. Fran;ois de Monlezen, Marquis de Besmos, Brigadier General and Captain of Cardinal Mazarin's Guard, became Commandant of the Bastille in 1646, long before the Cardinal's death, and certainly not in 1661. He was awarded the title of Marquis in 1657. He is still Commandant of the Bastille, at the very time I am writing these memoirs. I could not have influenced this man by providing him with a loan to buy the position of Commandant of the Bastille, since at the time he purchased the position, he had the money, and I did not, that's all. My entire influence over him is explained by his entry into the Order, where by the time described I had occupied a significantly higher position. Why would I lend him money if, according to the charter, I could simply give him an order that he was obliged to execute flawlessly, even if it contradicted the King's own command? And why would I conceal my intentions if I could simply order him to keep my order and its execution strictly confidential? Such stipulations weren't even necessary, since they were implicitly assumed.
So, I didn't woo the Marquis de Besmo with loans. My position in the Order allowed me to appear before him earlier to demand complete and unconditional obedience, but not yet a general of the Order, I wasn't completely free to issue orders. Therefore, until the spring of 1661, I was unable to command General de Besmo completely freely, and only after that date did I have such an opportunity.
Finally, a few words about how I became a general. From Grimaud's memoirs, one might think I practically poisoned my predecessor. I categorically deny these accusations. The general died a natural death. Our meeting with him was somewhat different, and, of course, the general wasn't dressed as a Franciscan.
In the spring of 1661, I met Mr. Goswin Nickel, professor of philosophy and general of the Jesuit Order. At that time, the Order, which was entirely under his command, numbered fifteen thousand members. He was a great man. Thanks to his efforts, significant reforms of the judicial system were carried out, and on his orders, torture was abolished in trials. May God have mercy on him! Mr. Goswin Nickel was elected Supreme General of the Order on March 17, 1652, a week after the death of his predecessor, Alessandro Gottivredi. He had already held this post for nine years. In February 1661, he lost consciousness, after which he was revived with difficulty by ointments and smelling salts. His right arm and leg became less mobile. The next morning, a physician came to him, carefully examined him, and gave him some healing powders. The general felt much better.
"You won't live more than three months if you continue to lead the lifestyle you're leading," said the doctor. "You work too much and are in dire need of rest, otherwise I can't guarantee that you'll survive even those three months."
"If I only have three months left, what's the point of changing my daily routine?" the general asked.
"If you listen to my recommendations and take the medications I give you, I can promise you another three years," the doctor said. "But that's the most we can hope for, and that's on the condition that you fully comply with the measures I've prescribed for preserving your health. My method won't cure you, but it will prevent the process that threatens your consciousness from killing you prematurely."
“We all walk under the Lord,” the general replied.
" But the Lord sometimes allows us mortals to prolong the lives of those who pay due attention to their health," the physician replied. "The Order needs you; your unexpected departure would deal an irreparable blow to the common cause. Find a successor now, while you're still alive. Let everyone see you as the Order's general, but let him carry out the bulk of your work."
“Okay,” the general agreed.
After this, the general ordered the secretary to bring him a list of candidates for the position of General of the Order. My name was on this list.
The general looked at his watch, took a new portion of powders, as prescribed by the doctor, and began to carefully study the list and the comments on it.

Chapter 237

Grimaud had the audacity to invent and describe my meeting with the General of the Jesuit Order, the Reverend Father Goswin Nickel, in his forged memoirs, and, of course, he made it all up. For some reason, he calls the Order terrifying. There's nothing terrifying about the Order. The Order's goals are open and sacred, its methods are varied, but the Order has always believed that all methods are good for achieving sacred goals, since methods are not high or low in themselves, but can be so depending on whether the goals are high or low. I think everyone will agree that leniency and kindness aimed at corrupting and depraving the student is evil, while severity and exactingness aimed at educating is good. Kindness should not stoop to permissiveness, just as severity should not reach the point of unjustified cruelty. Moreover, as I have already mentioned, the Reverend Father Goswin Nickel achieved the abolition of torture in the investigation of crimes against God, so all the lies and scary stories spread against the Order have no relation to the actions of the Order at the time when I joined it and even, in the end, actually headed it.
My conversation with General Goswin took place not two hours before his death, but three years before.
The general carefully reviewed the files of all the candidates for the position, after which he invited about fifteen people for an interview. Each person entered his office through one door and exited through another, so that none of us saw each other. How do I know this, you ask? It's worth remembering that, having taken up my post, I received all the information that might interest me, as well as access to information that didn't interest me but that, under certain circumstances, could be useful to me or my henchmen—that is, the good Jesuit brothers, of whom there were already fifteen thousand throughout the world.
Naturally, the Order did not set out to subjugate any state. The Order had different goals and different methods. The Order's primary objective is to spread the word of God throughout the world, to spread the Christian faith. This, of course, entails suppressing those who would hinder this, but nothing more. The Order's authority over any European state? Such a goal was never the Order's. To subtly and imperceptibly influence events in a single European state, to steer them in the right direction, or sometimes to influence the monarch's thinking through a spiritual advisor assigned to him—such a goal was always present, in relation to all states, and not just in Europe. So the Order's general simply could not hold a competition for the secret that would allow him to subjugate this or that European state. If any of the Order's Masters could provide the General with information useful to the Order, they would have to do so immediately, without selling their secrets or hoping to gain some special privileged position within the Order in exchange for this information. So, some Baron von Vostpur, proposing a plot to seize the Emperor, would hardly dare to claim the post of General of the Order with such an idea. And the General of the Order would never have attempted such a crudely orchestrated coup d';tat.
Regarding the ideas of the so-called Cardinal Herebia, I'll also say that a man intelligent enough to become a cardinal couldn't possibly offer the General of the Order the services of his own spies, copying documents of our King Louis XIV for the same purpose—to thereby gain the right to inherit the general's position. Not to mention that I, not some Cardinal Herebia, was in charge of the secrets of Louis's court, and I'll say a few words about this marriage.
Here's what Grimaud writes. The aforementioned cardinal supposedly reminds the general that, according to the terms of the Infanta's marriage to the King of France, the Infanta, like King Louis, renounced all claims to the Spanish crown. And from this, it supposedly follows that peace and union between the two kingdoms depend on the observance of this article of the treaty. The cardinal then allegedly claimed to be aware that King Louis intended to violate the treaty. Was this an open secret the aforementioned cardinal intended to offer the General of the Order in order to take his post after his death? But surely it was no secret that Maria Theresa, as the daughter of the King of Spain, had a claim to the throne, just as our King Louis, as the grandson of King Philip III and nephew of the current King Philip IV, might also have some claim to the throne! Philip IV himself wasn't exactly in a good position with his heirs! He had nine children from his first marriage, of whom only our Queen Maria Theresa, wife of Louis XIV, was alive at that time! Philip III had five children from his second marriage, of whom ten-year-old Margaret Theresa of Spain, who soon became Empress and wife of Leopold I , passed away at the age of twenty-two, twelve years after the events described. Thus, the throne was inherited by Charles II of Spain, who had barely been born in that very year of 1661 I am describing. This means that there was a certain problem with the heirs of the Kingdom of Spain, and the children born from the marriage of the King of Spain's eldest daughter and his nephew could have had a legitimate claim to the throne. Accordingly, Maria Theresa , according to the marriage contract, was to receive a dowry of half a million gold ;cus in exchange for abdicating for herself and her children the inheritance of the Spanish crown and other Spanish possessions. The dowry was to be paid in three installments, otherwise the abdication would be considered invalid. Maria Theresa never received these five hundred thousand gold ;cus, so these circumstances, according to this treaty, invalidated the obligation to renounce her claim to the Spanish throne. The very mention of the requirement to renounce these claims proved that these claims would have been quite valid were it not for the stipulation in the marriage contract. The stipulation, however, was conditional on monetary compensation of half a million ;cus. Since the half a million ;cus were not paid, Spain itself gave Louis XIV grounds to claim the crown for his children. In 1661, Maria Theresa had not yet blessed her husband with an heir, and, moreover, after his birth, he became considered the Dauphin, that is, the main claimant to the French throne upon the death of his father. So, in 1661, Spain had no reason to fear claims to the Spanish crown from the children of Louis and Maria Theresa due to the absence of any. But the failure to pay the dowry gave them such rights even before their birth. Moreover, Spain did not pay this dowry because, prior to the birth of Louis XIV's second son , such a problem had not existed for Spain, so the cunning Spaniards saw no need to buy off a threat they did not consider real. In this regard, all the speculations of a certain fictitious Cardinal Herbia about Louis XIV intending to break the treaty seem laughable. And it would be absurd to think that this open secret would have compelled the General of the Order to put a cross next to the cardinal's name, rather than crossing it off the list of claimants.
Grimaud's imagination flourished when describing the information allegedly conveyed to the Order's general by Signor Marini of Venice. How could a Venetian know the plans of a Pope who was in Rome, not Venice? Besides, Popes are usually chosen from among intelligent individuals who have not only managed to become a cardinal but also to gain the respect of all the other cardinals in the sacred conclave. Such people don't share their plans with just anyone. I'll go further: such people don't share their secret plans with anyone at all. And of course, it's worth considering: why would the Pope fight the Order if the Order is an additional tool for his influence over both believers and non-believers? After all, the Order was created with the consent of the Pope, its statutes were approved by the Pope, and the Order allows for the exercise of power in the Pope's name wherever its members are present. And such orders, according to the statutes approved by the Pope, must be observed more strictly than the orders of secular authority. This means that if any member of the Order, by order and in the name of the Pope, commands obedience to any person, that person must obey, even if it means disobeying their own monarch. So why would the Pope destroy such a magnificent structure, which provided him with fifteen thousand people devoted to death?
And finally, Grimaud writes that the General of the Order accepted this nonsense as the purest truth and gave me the order to assassinate the Pope. Pope Alexander VI , who had been pontiff for six years by the year 1661 in question, remained so and remained in relatively good health until May 22, 1667, when he died a natural death. I had nothing to do with this, of course, for no one commissioned me to commit such a crime, nor could they have. Such villainous methods are unacceptable for Jesuits, who fight heresy and unbelief, not the Pope!
And one more thing. If I had written my secret in a code known only to me and the General of the Order, then I could have sent him this letter even before meeting him. And only I and my friends knew that I could only have learned the secret connected with the Dauphin's birth from the Duchess de Chevreuse. Everyone else was unaware of my connection with her. But the General of the Order could well have known that the Duchess was still alive, since she was a very noble and prominent person, she was in the public eye, she appeared at the King's court. Why would I risk telling the General that I had learned this terrible secret from the Duchess, only to have to lie to him and say she was dead? The General could have exposed me immediately! It would have been easier for me to lie to the general that I learned the secret directly from Queen Anne of Austria, since the general couldn't verify my words, and the general was simply forced to assume that Queen Anne herself had informed me of this terrible secret. So there was no point in me lying that only I knew this secret when it was obvious that the Queen, who was still alive at the time, also knew it. There was no point in lying that the Duchess de Chevreuse was dead, since it would have been far easier to lie that she was unaware of this secret.
That's enough of Grimaud's revelations. Now I'll tell you how my meeting with the Order's general, the Reverend Father Goswin Nickel, came about. And there's no point in me lying, since I don't expect anyone to read these memoirs, and I'm speaking to my prospective reader only because I feel like it.

Chapter 238

"Come in, Master d'Herblay," said General Gosvin Nickel. "Do you understand the purpose of our conversation?"
"Yes, Monsignor," I replied, for that was how I was instructed to address him. "You are looking for a successor."
“Whatever my decision regarding you, our conversation must remain secret, at least while I live,” the general warned me.
“Certainly, Monsignor,” I agreed.
"Traditionally, the pontiff is elected for life," the general said. "But the state of my health forces me to think about a successor now. I've had attacks before. After one of these attacks, if it happens again, I could lose my memory, completely or partially. Our case would be seriously damaged in that case. Your letter is written in a code that no one but me knows. How did you know it?"
“I have solved it, Monsignor,” I replied.
"Incredible!" the general objected doubtfully. "How so?"
"First, I must inform you that I had three of your letters written in this cipher in my possession," I said. "Or rather, exact copies of them. I ask you not to insist that I reveal which letters they were."
"You knew what the contents of these letters were supposed to be, and did that help you in any way?" the general suggested. "But even so, it would take a remarkable mind to crack my code!"
"I didn't know the contents, Monsignor, but I knew the circumstances under which these letters were sent, as well as their addressees," I replied. "By comparing the information available to me with the recipients of these letters, I have guessed at certain names that must certainly be mentioned in them."
“But I didn’t write the names of these people, replacing them with the names of ancient gods,” the general objected.
"I guessed as much," I said. "You chose their names according to their character or their position in the hierarchy. And besides, as I said, I imagined what I would have written in your place under these circumstances, so I almost knew the contents of these letters."
"And I thought my code was impossible to decipher," the general sighed. "Well, I was wrong."
"You were not mistaken, Monsignor, for it was almost impossible," I said. "I spent all my free time for three years trying to crack this code. I studied your life, your passions, your way of thinking, and especially your style of phrasing, in order to recreate the original text of the letter as accurately as possible."
"And you did all this just to write me this letter, using my personal code?" the general asked in surprise.
"Yes, Monsignor, because I couldn't take any risks," I replied. "I needed you to read this letter, but no one else could. I also needed you to pay attention to it and single it out from all the other letters. The goal was achieved."
"You are very persistent in achieving your goals!" the general admired.
“I am glad that I was able to demonstrate this to you with this example, since all my persistence will be directed towards achieving the goals that the Order will set for itself,” I replied.
"Let's talk about the secret contained in this letter," the general said. "I'm interested in how you discovered it and how you intend to use it."
"I learned this secret through my connections at the court of the King of France, both the previous and current, as well as through analysis, comparison, long reflection, and, to some extent, through inspiration," I replied. "After I had solved this mystery, I also undertook my own investigation to verify the correctness of my assumption, and also to clarify the fate of the second man mentioned in the letter."
"So, you not only know that it exists, but you also know where it is?" the general asked.
"Yes, Monsignor, and I also know a way to extract him from there, and I have also devised a plan to instill in him the mindset and goals we would like him to have," I replied. "It is not enough for him to agree to cooperate with us. It is necessary for him to imbibe with every fiber of his being the goals the Order strives for, so that he becomes completely ours, so that he joins the Order and, on that basis, obeys its structure."
"A member of the Order in such a position!" the general exclaimed admiringly. "A sincere, dedicated member of our Order, a servant of Jesus! That would be very interesting! After all, he would be obliged to obey the Order's leaders."
"Yes, Monsignor," I said. "To place him in the former's place and to reduce the former to the position of the latter—that's not enough. At first, a feeling of gratitude might perhaps compel him to obey, but such feelings are short-lived. He would claim that, with some reciprocal services, he had fully repaid the favor I could have performed for him, after which he might most likely intend to free himself from tutelage and become as independent as his new position allowed! And then all my efforts would be in vain. Only true faith, only reverent veneration of Our Lord, the understanding that the Lord sees not only all his deeds but also his thoughts, and voluntary entry into the bosom of the Order could make such a man ours forever."
"And he could have received the title of Grand Master of the Order?" the general asked. "If he obeyed."
"In no case higher than a coadjutor, Monsignor," I objected. "This man should have no career aspirations in the Order other than serving the Lord for the sake of the supreme grace that, of course, awaits all true servants of the Lord, that is, every member of the Order, from the highest to the most insignificant."
"You are right, Master d'Herblay," the general agreed after some reflection, which lasted for about three or four minutes in complete silence. "The dizzying exaltation he will experience by replacing his double will be sufficient compensation, and while it will be final in this world, it will only be the beginning, a prerequisite for the highest grace in another, better, eternal world. He must understand this. Who will explain it to him?"
“I, and only I, Monsignor,” I replied. “I have already written several books in accessible language, specifically designed for his education. One of these books reveals the value of the traditions and views of the Order and their complete correspondence with Holy Scripture, as well as the precepts of the great Ignatius of Loyola. This book is necessary so that he not only clearly understands the goals of his transformation, but also accepts these goals as the purpose of his life. Another book gives him complete information about the mores of the court, the hierarchy at court, the traditions and habits, information about his relatives, descriptions of their appearance, their habits and behavioral characteristics. All this is necessary so that he can better play his role. The third book will allow him to easily and quickly master Spanish, the language spoken by the one he will replace, for, as far as I have learned, he was not taught this language; he knows only his native tongue, the language of his homeland, and, fortunately, he is literate and loves to read. His curiosity and love of books prove he's smart enough to handle the task at hand. His background also confirms this.
"Where are these interesting books?" asked the general.
"Each book was made in triplicate," I replied. "One copy for him, one spare, and one copy of these three books in German for you, Monsignor, so that you can read them and make any necessary corrections. I left these three books for you in my suitcase in your secretary's reception area."
"Excellent, I'll take a look at them," the general replied. "I assume they outline not only the Order's tactical objectives, but also its strategic goals, as you envision them?"
“Exactly so, Monsignor,” I replied.
"Good," the general said decisively. "I have no more questions for you today. You are free to go; have the secretary bring me these books. Remain in the city for three more days, and leave your address with the secretary. You will be informed of my decision."
After this, the general extended his right hand for me to kiss. On the middle finger of the hand was a gold ring bearing the coat of arms of the Jesuit Order. This coat of arms depicts the sun, with thirty-two rays of equal length. The rays pointing straight up and straight out, as well as those dividing the angles between these rays into three equal parts, are straight; the remaining rays are wavy, with straight and wavy rays alternating. In the center of the solar disk are three letters— IHS —which stand for "Iesus Humanum Salvator," or "Jesus, Savior of Men." Above the letter " H " is a cross, its lower part slightly piercing the bridge of the letter. Thirty-two diamonds are set into the ring around the rim of the solar disk, serving as the bases of the rays emanating from the sun, as if their source. This ring was one of the symbols of the Order's general's authority, although one should not think that the ring itself made its owner a general. This symbol was more intended for communication with lower-ranking members of the Order, not initiated into the higher secrets. True power was bestowed elsewhere. The Masters of the Order knew the general by name and face; coadjutors, as a rule, did not communicate with him, but if necessary, the general could produce numerous proofs of his status. The ring was the simplest of these, but there were others, such as secret signs, passwords that only the initiate had the right to pronounce, and other such things. A person who knew the passwords would never dare pronounce them without legal authority, but knowledge of them served to ensure that, upon hearing them, he understood the necessity of obedience.
I kissed the general's hand and left.

Three days later, the general's secretary personally visited me and invited me to immediately proceed to his master.

"Master d'Herblay, I have made my decision," the general said. "I have chosen you as my successor."
My heart nearly jumped out of my chest, but outwardly I maintained complete composure. I bowed silently.
“That’s not all,” the general continued. “You won’t have to wait for my death. I’ve decided to transfer all powers to you as soon as possible. Obtain from my secretary the documents you will need to study to carry out your new duties. After you have studied them, you will come to me, and I will transfer all powers to you. All masters will be notified that I am relinquishing power and transferring it to you. For everyone else, nothing will change. If necessary, you may disclose your position to any member of the Order. However, as long as I live, I will oversee your affairs and assist you in your work as best I can. And yet, after power is transferred to you, you will be the de facto general. This is my decision, this is my will. Perhaps after my death you will wish to continue to remain in the shadows, in which case I recommend Father Giovanni Paolo Oliva as your external representative of the Order. He will, like me, be merely a ceremonial representative of your authority. This is my will. For the task you have undertaken, unnecessary fuss is unnecessary.”
The secretary handed me two dozen folders. Their contents were extremely interesting and absolutely essential for my future work. I studied them all and memorized all the important information. Even now, I could recite all the texts from memory. It took me twenty days—one day per folder.
At the end of this period, the general handed over his powers to me and, removing the ring from his hand, placed it in my palm.
Thus I became General of the Jesuit Order in 1661.
I must say that I had indeed envisioned long-term work with the man mentioned in our conversation with the general. But circumstances turned out differently, and I was forced to hurry.
 
Chapter 239

All people are at least half moral: they cannot bear injustice done to them. All that remains is to teach them to be equally indignant at injustice, for their own benefit and to the detriment of others. Such are all of you, my dear readers, whom I hope will never be. Such am I myself. So, whether fairly or not, I have effectively become the head of the Jesuit Order from that time on, not so much thanks to painstaking and lengthy preliminary work, although that was important, but mainly thanks to the secret entrusted to me, which I revealed in defiance of that trust, and to the plans I devised, which I still only hoped to realize. I must admit that this is tantamount to someone receiving a generous payment for a harvest that has not yet been harvested, but merely for the good intention of cultivating it.
Well, at least I'd done something! And why do some become Kings? They don't even have that kind of merit to their name. So my conscience didn't bother me, especially since I sincerely believed in the success of my planned undertaking. After all, I couldn't have imagined how hastily I'd be forced to implement it, neglecting all the precautions and guarantees I'd devised and laid out for Father Goswin Nikel. Fortunately for me, the transfer of authority was final and irreversible, so Father Goswin couldn't reverse his decision on the grounds that the plan I outlined hadn't been implemented exactly as envisioned. I can only say that everything is in God's hands, and if what happened happened, it follows that it was His will, and I have nothing to repent of.
If God had wanted to punish me for these actions, He would have humiliated me and reduced me to nothingness, not exalted me as He exalts almost no mortal, for there are not yet two hundred so fortunate as those marked in life by His special favor. Of the nearly two hundred and fifty pontiffs of all time, those fortunate enough to have been almost officially recognized, forty-one should be excluded, whose status is extremely dubious and not recognized with all due formality!
Having received from Father Gosvin absolute power over fifteen thousand companions, among whom he now included himself, I returned to Paris to find out how Fouquet was managing his affairs without me, and how things were generally going at court.
Upon arrival in Paris, I learned a lot of new and interesting things.
Fouquet informed me that the King had appointed Colbert to a position that would allow him to oversee all of Fouquet's financial transactions. This was despite the fact that, at the very beginning of his reign, Louis had spoken with Fouquet, revealing his knowledge of the less-than-legal methods of obtaining funds that Fouquet had used with Mazarin's knowledge and approval. The King declared that there would be no investigation into these matters and declared an unconditional pardon for the superintendent for all incidents committed during Mazarin's reign, but asked him not to act in this manner again and to adhere to the law. This, at the time, had given grounds for Fouquet's extraordinary optimism. I suggested that Colbert intended to overthrow Fouquet, to which Fouquet replied that this was nothing new to him; Colbert had already had this desire during the cardinal's lifetime.
"How can this petty man overthrow someone like me?" Fouquet objected. "The King himself favors me! I think he allowed Colbert to rummage through my accounts simply to distract him from other, more important matters. How can he compete with me? He is petty and weak, while my friends rule the entire kingdom, and there is not a single high post in France that my friend does not occupy."
" You've forgotten the post of King, Monsignor," I objected. "And this unique post allows one to replace people in all other posts at will."
"My position is secure, I'm one of the pillars of the current government, and Colbert is just a fox running around between the rocks and getting angry," Fouquet dismissed. "He'll only break his teeth trying to harm me."
"But this little fox can dig so deep under a rock that it will collapse," I objected. "All he needs is time and persistence."
"He won't have time," Fouquet objected. "The King recently hinted to me that he was preparing a surprise for me, and I realized it was about some new position. If it wasn't the post of first minister, then something very close to it."
“Still, be careful with your spending,” I replied.
"Speaking of expenses," said Fouquet, "there are large expenses connected with the feast I will have to organize for the King at Vaux-le-Vicomte."
"You've decided to throw a party for the King?" I asked in surprise.
"I was forced into it," Fouquet replied, shrugging. "I believe Colbert arranged it. The King expressed a desire to organize this celebration. He said he wanted to please someone."
"The King has a favorite?" I asked.
"No, I don't think so," Fouquet replied. "I would have known about it. Apparently, he wants to charm Princess Henrietta. They say he's quite friendly with her."
“In that case, you should be friends with her too,” I replied. “Aren’t you planning on becoming friends with her?”
"After all, it was at my suggestion that Monsieur and Madame received half a million livres as a wedding gift, which I then paid to the King!" exclaimed Fouquet. "So the Princess has every reason to regard me favorably."
"The Princess would have reason to treat you favorably, or rather, to demonstrate that very favor, if this money were intended not for the newlyweds' family, but for herself alone," I countered. "And it would be best if this money were only promised to her, not yet paid, and if that payment depended solely on you. Don't expect gratitude for favors already performed; gratitude can only be received for favors that are still only planned. Nothing else is natural to people. If the Princess had any plans to receive very substantial sums from you in the future..."
“That’s also possible,” said Fouquet.
"The Princesses' appetites are insatiable, and when satisfied, they grow exponentially," I countered. "Even someone as rich as you can't buy a Princess's favor. Especially since the King can always give you gifts that are even greater than yours, though you'll be the one paying for them."
"You're right, and besides, I won't be able to give anything away anytime soon," Fouquet agreed. "I'm almost out of money, so I don't know how to finance the celebration at Vaux-le-Vicomte. However, I can still sell a few things, pawn a few things, and take out a few loans, so don't worry about that."
"Didn't you tell me that the treasury has already absorbed three years' worth of future revenue?" I asked.
“That means we have to get into the income of next year, the fourth,” answered Fouquet.
The serenity with which he said this alarmed me.
"Are you serious?" I asked, surprised.
"I cannot refuse the King's demand for funds!" exclaimed Fouquet. "Such a refusal would be disastrous for me."
“Sooner or later your funds will run out, as will all your methods of obtaining new funds from other sources,” I said.
"But the King won't demand such grand celebrations every day!" Fouquet objected. "Sooner or later there will be a respite."
“Why do you think so?” I asked.
"Everything in this world has its ebb and flow," Fouquet concluded philosophically. "There will be a low tide, a respite that will give me the opportunity to gather my strength and replenish my savings. The two positions I hold greatly facilitate this. If the King removes me from these positions, I am lost. Therefore, to stop supplying His Majesty with money would be like a man who has fallen into the water ceasing to wave his arms and swim. He would simply sink to the bottom."
"So you prefer to delay the moment when you cannot satisfy the King's financial demands by any means necessary?" I asked. "After all, this is just a delay!"
"Listen, my dear d'Herblay!" Fouquet said softly. "What is our life if not merely a postponement of death? None of us are eternal. But tell some dying man, whom the doctor has told he has only a few hours to live, that he is being granted a reprieve for five years, a year, or even a month, and you will see how happy he will be."
“But you’re not dying!” I objected.
"And I don't intend to be one for several decades!" Fouquet replied cheerfully. "All that is trivial! Money is just metal. Didn't you teach me that money is needed only by a ruler who has no other means of compelling obedience? Mazarin had no means of influencing the Princes, but he bought their loyalty with money, and with their loyalty, he strengthened his power so strongly that not one of them dared to encroach upon it. With money, he united his friends and divided his enemies. Incidentally, I continue to do the same, thanks to your very sound advice.
“Every strategy and every tactic sooner or later becomes obsolete, and it’s time to change it,” I said thoughtfully.
“You’re right, as always, but there’s nothing to worry about yet,” Fouquet agreed.
"Perhaps he's right," I thought. "He'll be able to withstand the blow for a while yet. I've gained great power, but I need time to organize it properly. The secret I possess is also still useless, since this second Prince is still a complete stranger to me, and I must first make him my friend, then my follower, become his shepherd, so that he'll be as obedient to me as a lamb. This will take months, or even years. If Fouquet is confident about the future, I can probably hope to have at least six months. Well, I'll proceed cautiously and slowly, as I planned."
Then I felt in my pocket the letter that Bazin had handed me shortly before. It was from one of the Order's coadjutors, and I didn't have time to read it, because as I was about to do so, I ran into Fouquet and we got into conversation. I opened the letter and read the following:

"Monseigneur, it is reliably known that the King has a favorite who greatly influences his mood and behavior. Her name is Louise-Fran;oise de La Baume Le Blanc de La Valli;re. For the love of her, the King will do anything."

"Monseigneur," I said to Fouquet, "forget everything I said about Princess Henrietta. The celebration at Vaux-le-Vicomte is for another lady. Her name is Louise-Fran;oise de La Baume Le Blanc de La Valli;re. She is the Princess's new lady-in-waiting, originally from Blois, near Tours. Try to befriend her with the help of the Duchess de Chevreuse."
"The Duchess de Chevreuse won't help me," Fouquet dismissed. "She's planning to marry Colbert, so we're on opposite sides of the fence."
"It's sad," I replied. "I could talk to the Duchess myself, but if she's determined to befriend Colbert, I'll have to distance myself from her too. However, I'll still consider whether I should count her among my enemies or try to guide her back onto the right path."
"This lady is more dangerous than a powder keg!" said Fouquet. "Not for nothing did the late cardinal say that when the Duchess de Chevreuse leaves France, France has almost no problems left."
"And he was sorely mistaken," I replied. "The Duchess is no less dangerous outside France than in France itself. I would recommend that the King keep her under constant surveillance."
"In the Bastille?" asked Fouquet.
"She's too noble for such a fate," I objected. "And the Queen wouldn't allow it, out of remembrance of our former friendship. No, I'd keep her in the Louvre, surrounded by so many servants that not a single step she takes would go unnoticed."
"Good idea," Fouquet agreed. "So what about this La Valli;re?"
"Even the greatest danger from the King will, it seems, be less terrible if this girl stands up for you," I said. "And even the strangest request will not seem so strange if this girl supports it. Such is His Majesty's current relationship with this lady-in-waiting. It is in your interests to become her friend, but without arousing the King's jealousy, of course. This must be done carefully."
"Well, I can do that!" Fouquet declared with extreme self-confidence. "I know how to handle ladies of that sort."
"Be discreet, Monseigneur, don't push her," I warned Fouquet again. "She's a provincial fool; she'd appreciate a quiet friendship more than gallant offers or bribery."
"Oh, don't worry about that!" Fouquet retorted rashly. "I don't need to be taught how to treat ladies. Especially not the ladies-in-waiting at court."
By classifying Louise de La Valli;re as a lady of “that sort,” Nicolas Fouquet made perhaps the most unforgivable mistake of his entire life.
 
Chapter 240

Having become the Order's General, I became more concerned with my own affairs than with those of the Order, and I'm not ashamed of it. In old age, those who haven't achieved the wealth, fame, or power they desired regret the missed opportunities. Those who followed an honest path perhaps regret it no less than those who didn't shy away from dishonest methods, were caught doing so, and therefore didn't achieve their desired heights. Ultimately, both are wrong. Every person is honest up to the point where they fear exposure, and readily commits deceptions they are convinced will not be exposed. However, for some, these limits are determined by fear of God, for others by fear of justice, for others by fear of those they respect, and rarely by their own conscience. There are, however, certain kinds of lies that even the most conscientious person's conscience can easily reconcile. However, I had truly great goals that push the boundaries of what is acceptable.
Using my new position and the funds Fouquet had not yet expended on the construction and equipment of Belle-;le, I, with the help of Porthos and my other friends and clients, gradually implemented a plan to influence the soldiers and officers of the royal garrison that had arrived at the fortress to replace the garrison previously stationed there. In this way, instead of one garrison of our own, we acquired two, since the garrison that had departed Belle-;le for the Ile d'Ol;ron retained Fouquet's respect and loyalty, and the newly arrived royal garrison, through my efforts, acquired this respect and loyalty thanks to the fact that, in addition to the standard allowance allocated to the garrison by the King, a month later we added additional allowances and entertainment services, presenting the matter in such a way that no one would doubt that these services were available to the soldiers and officers solely through the care and kindness of Nicolas Fouquet and henceforth depended solely on his goodwill.
In any case, I was confident that, if necessary, Fouquet could once again become the de facto ruler of the fortress, provided he decided to disobey the King. On that front, everything was settled, and no unpleasant surprises were expected.
I didn't even have to use my authority as the Order's general, although, of course, I received a list of those officers and even soldiers who were members of the Order. Among the soldiers, there weren't many, but a quarter of the new garrison's officers were members of the Order, so this was quite sufficient to effectively influence them. Unfortunately, the garrison's chief officer wasn't a Jesuit, but both of his assistants were. I decided not to use these trump cards for now, but to save them for a last resort, and also to influence the garrison commander's removal and his replacement by an assistant from among these two.
I'll point out that effective unrest among the troops doesn't require the majority of soldiers and officers to be on the side of the rebels. Even a tenth is enough to sow discord, since more than two-thirds of the members of any community are amorphous and follow those who dare to lead them; a very small proportion have deeply held convictions and remain true to them in any situation; and another proportion can be swayed one way or another depending on circumstances and their ability to exploit them. Since members of the Order are always those whose convictions are already formed, all of them were steadfast champions of the true faith, and therefore, my people, although they didn't realize it until later.
I didn't boast about my new position to Fouquet or my friends. Contrary to what Grimaud writes, I didn't tell Fouquet that I had become all-powerful, that I stood above the King and all the Kings of Europe. Firstly, that's not quite true, not even entirely true. The power of the General of the Jesuit Order cannot be compared to the power of the King, just as it's pointless to compare water to stone, or hearing to sight. My power extends elsewhere. If necessary, I could have raised a large sum of money and provided it to Fouquet for the celebration at Vaux-le-Vicomte, but, firstly, that wasn't part of my plans, and secondly, it couldn't go unnoticed, so I had to at least pretend that the money was spent on the needs of the Order, and not on my own or the King's entertainment. That's not how it's done. Even God obeys certain rules in his actions, so how could I possibly manage the Order's treasury as if it were my own wallet? The Order and its treasury were subject to my will, but not, of course, for my own whims.
I told Fouquet only what he needed to know, and nothing more. I told him that if the King demanded a feast, it must take place; if Fouquet lacked the means, I could obtain them, but I did not promise to give them to him immediately, in unlimited quantities, and without obligation to return them—that is, as a gift. Gifts and favors should be given only as a last resort, for they corrupt those in whose interests they are given, as I have known for some time.
I had no intention of dictating any love letters to Fouquet regarding Mademoiselle La Valli;re. Incidentally, Fouquet had absolutely no intention of making her his mistress. He made no pretensions to it, since she held no interest for him in that regard . But Grimaud is mistaken in thinking that Fouquet's heart was occupied by another, and that this is the reason he could not have fallen in love with La Valli;re. He is also mistaken in thinking that Fouquet, while not desiring to make her his mistress, nevertheless had such an intention. An intention without desire? That is, contrary to desire? That is not Fouquet. It's all nonsense. Fouquet could very well have had several mistresses at the same time, like the rest of us, and yet he could have been particularly fond of one or more of them, or of none at all. He might have been tempted by Louise's charms, had he taken a closer look, but he had neither the time nor the inclination for that. If Louise had been one of those girls easily swayed to such an alliance—nine hundred and ninety-nine girls out of every thousand—he would have succeeded not so much with his charm, which he still possessed then, as with money, or rather, with a combination of the two. A gift from a pleasant man is always more pleasant for any woman than a gift from an unpleasant one. It's astonishing how absurdly Fouquet acted toward Louise de La Valli;re! Instead of trying to be her friend, as I advised him, he decided to simply buy her, that is, offer her money to relay the contents of her conversations with the King. He must have been completely mad. And he even decided to do it in writing, signing both her name and his own on the same page. The letter was insulting, even to someone less than scrupulous like Louise.
Instead of paying her a compliment or two, finding out what she liked most and obliging her with a small but memorable gift, as Mazarin did, who won the favor of men and women with his pleasant manner, demonstrating to them what a sweet and courteous man he was, attentive to the interests of people, always able to give an intelligent answer to any question that did not offend anyone present, to give a compliment that was pleasant even to those whom it did not concern, to give a thing that was valuable precisely because it corresponded to the interests of the given person, Fouquet remained a merchant and financier in the worst sense of the word, who believed that if he set the price of something and offered for it a price a third or even twice as much, then there simply could be no refusal. That's how estates, islands, and positions are bought; that, I agree, is how most women are bought, but not those who consider their honor above any reward, or those who have already identified a buyer for their honor, provided that this buyer ranks above all others in the Kingdom, as in this case. Offering friendship to the King's mistress would be like politely pouring wine into the goblet of the leading lady at a ball, but asking to be the King's mistress's lover was like sitting down uninvited next to the King and choosing the best pieces from his dish, or even climbing into his bed. To propose to the King's mistress that she act as an informant and spy on the King himself—that was incomparable impudence and even worse—high treason. It would be tantamount to asking the Queen to help you with your shoes or walk your dogs. I must admit that when I read the text of this letter, I decided Fouquet was mad. I had the opportunity to read the text of this letter, but long after it had played its sinister role.
I still remember it word for word. Here is the text.

"Madam!
Being closely acquainted with your parents, Monsieur Laurent de La Baume-le-Blanc and Madame Fran;oise de Pr;vost, and being a great friend of your relative, the Duchess de Saint-R;my, I offer you my patronage. I understand how difficult it must be for you to be alone in Paris, without parents or brothers or sisters. Knowing the state of your family, I believe they cannot provide you with substantial support, so you, poor thing, must make do with the allowance you receive as a lady-in-waiting to the Princess. I sympathize with this difficult financial situation, which such a worthy young lady as you should never find yourself in, and I am ready to make every effort to remedy this misfortune. You may know that I am not constrained by means and offer you the necessary sums for your needs without the slightest embarrassment. In return, I ask nothing more than kindness for an old friend of your esteemed parents. Perhaps you would like to chat with me from time to time about this and that, to tell me how you are getting on at court, and that would be enough for me. Spending all my time on business and worries, I sometimes have no opportunity to learn the latest news at court, so you would oblige me greatly if you would occasionally inform me of the news you learn without even the slightest effort. For me, this would be a breath of fresh air, a refreshing sip of pure spring water amid the routine tasks that I am condemned to perform due to my dull but responsible duties. If you agree to such conversations, I will be happy to consider a treaty of friendship concluded between us, and I will in no way demand the return of any sums you deign to spend on your immediate needs, considering them a gift for the daughter of my old friends.
Sincerely yours, Nicolas Fouquet."

The ornate style of this letter wouldn't have fooled even a nun. It's obvious to anyone that Fouquet was offering Louise the chance to act as his informant, offering whatever sums she deemed reasonable. Since this letter followed immediately after Mademoiselle de La Valli;re and King Louis XIV had established a warm and extremely trusting relationship, it's clear that Fouquet's understanding of court news meant information about conversations with the King. He should have stopped at the words "without the slightest scruple" and received at least some kind of response. He should have then provided her with sums of money at least three or four times. Only then could he expect reciprocal favors, but only on the condition that he himself didn't ask for them. Such contacts would have been sufficient for her to intercede for him if the occasion arose. But the entire letter played only a negative role. I had no idea Fouquet was so inexperienced in the subtleties of this kind of politics! A bull in a china shop would have acted more delicately than he did in winning the friendship of a provincial girl.
Had such a letter arrived immediately after Louise's arrival in Paris, and had the long-standing friendship between Fouquet and Louise's parents been at least somewhat confirmed, or had Louise been both more greedy and more foolish than she was, such a letter might have worked. But offering money to someone to whom the King himself had offered his love and friendship a week earlier was too obvious a pursuit of self-interest. When every nose at court had already caught wind of the situation and was turning toward Mademoiselle La Valli;re, such a letter was a downright insult.
Louise's reaction was exactly what it could be. She was insulted and enraged. Had she been a woman with the prudence and cunning of the Duchesse de Chevreuse, she would have tried to extract as much benefit from such a letter as possible. Had she been a princess, especially one as proud as Anne of Austria, she would have immediately torn the letter to shreds and demanded the King send Fouquet as far away from sight as possible. She would not have demanded that he be punished or stripped of his office, money, or property, and she would not have shown the letter or recounted its contents. If such a letter had been received by the Louise who had not yet become the King's favorite, she might have fled to a convent to atone for the sins of the one who dared to write such abomination, and even more so to pray to God for forgiveness for the fact that, without meaning to, and unaware of the steps and behavior by which she had allowed this wretched Fouquet to think such things of herself, to admit that she was capable of betraying her King for money. But over the past week, Louise had changed; she was no longer the same. She had found a protector from all her enemies on this sinful earth in the King; she had entrusted herself, her honor, all her feelings, and all her love to him; she had renounced the need to think for herself, the audacity to make any decisions on her own.
She almost decided to hand this letter to the King immediately. To make matters worse, she was in tears the first time she read it. This added insult to injury would have made this letter a death sentence for Fouquet. Since the letter listed Louise's relatives, and since Fouquet had signed it, the King would not have needed any explanation.
But at the last minute, Louise changed her mind. She remembered her conversation with the Duchess de Chevreuse and decided to consult her. Since she hadn't found the Duchess, she postponed the conversation until later. The King noticed that Louise was upset about something, but Louise excused herself by saying she had received news that her brother was ill. The King noted that Louise loved her brothers and sisters very much and promised himself to do something significant for them, which would be a surprise for Louise. Thus, Fouquet unwittingly contributed to the rise of Mademoiselle Louise-Fran;oise de La Baume-le-Blanc de La Valli;re's relatives.
Having received no reply to his letter, Fouquet concluded that Louise had not yet decided what to do, and considered this a good sign, since the heart dictates our first impulse, while the mind takes a long time to intervene. Even if her heart might prompt her to refuse the superintendent's request, thereby simultaneously rejecting his patronage, Fouquet believed that common sense would surely compel her to appreciate all the benefits such patronage would offer.
So, Fouquet, having committed one of the most insane acts of his life, was in the best of spirits. The naive, blind man! May God forgive his rebellious soul!

Chapter 241

So, the King intended to throw a party at Fouquet's estate in Vaux-le-Vicomte. Fouquet, who had almost no money left to spare, was to pay for it.
By this time, I had already understood perfectly well that the King was acting on the advice of Colbert, who had decided to first strip Fouquet of all his power, which lay in his wealth, and only then to overthrow him, deprived of the ability to resist, cut off from his finances, like Antaeus from the earth. Had Fouquet understood Colbert's plan from the outset, he might have resisted it, for by the time of Mazarin's death, he remained the most influential man in France, even more influential than the young King. Fouquet had extensive lands where his loyalists resided, and he had Belle-;le with its loyal soldiers, and at court, practically all the more or less important posts were occupied by people indebted to him, or loyal to him, or even his relatives, close or not so close.
Fouquet overlooked the fact that even those deeply indebted to you cease to be your friends as soon as they realize your power is over. They avoid you like a leper. The deterioration of his relationship with Brother Basil should have taught him that he should trust no one, and expect loyalty from no one that isn't backed by the prospect of future gain.
Incredible expenses almost exhausted Fouquet's financial resources, but the King, of course, with the help of Colbert, found such ways of communicating with the superintendent, and spoke so kindly and confidentially, that the blind Fouquet believed each time that these expenses were the last before his upcoming even higher takeoff, so he went out of his way to satisfy all the requests of His Majesty.
I must explain something important about the festivities at the court of King Louis XIV . The previous tradition included knightly tournaments, in which nobles personally participated in duels. This sometimes led to tragic outcomes, but it sustained their bellicose spirit and complete military independence. The kingdom was a patchwork of various duchies, counties, marquisates, and viscounties, all of whom were absolute masters of their domains, where they could hold court, recruit troops, and do whatever they pleased. Their complete financial independence meant they could manage quite well without the King, whereas the King, without his subordination, was nothing. Tournaments gradually lost popularity, as they were too dangerous, and it was inconvenient for nobles to fight themselves, but it remained a matter of honor. During the reign of Henry II, military weapons were replaced by less traumatic ones; spear points, like swords, were blunted. But when, during a tournament with Montgomery, whose spear broke, leaving an extremely sharp wooden tip that penetrated the grating and struck King Henry II in the head , causing the King to die in terrible agony, the fashion for tournaments ended.
Henry IV attempted to strengthen and unite France, a cause continued by Richelieu and Mazarin. All sought to weaken the grandees and bind them more tightly to the royal court. To this end, Richelieu ordered the destruction of fortresses, except for those near the border, and abolished the election of governors, replacing them with appointments in the name of the King, which led to the subordination of local authorities to the central government. Step by step, the great reformers completed the unification of France under a single leader. This led to spontaneous outbreaks of rebellion, which were also fueled and financed by France's most vicious enemies, its closest neighbors, primarily Spain, but also England and other countries. Such were the La Rochelle rebellion, the constant revolts of the Guises, and both Frondes. Richelieu fought the rebels with the Bastille and the Place de Gr;ve, while Mazarin primarily used gifts of money, positions, and land, as well as a cunning shuttle policy of secret agreements with each against all. Marriages between members of different royal houses, as we know, did little to strengthen friendly relations between neighboring kingdoms, as we clearly saw in the relationship between the House of France and the House of Spain and England. The House of Spain, having cooled to such marriages, limited itself to finding brides for the heirs to the throne within its own family, which will inevitably lead to the degeneration of the Habsburgs, of which I have no doubt.
Louis XIV decided to build on the ideas of Richelieu and Louis XIII , elevating the importance of f;tes to an unprecedented level. Enormous sums were spent on these f;tes, they were held on a lavish scale, and every guest sought a seat as close to the King as possible at every feast, every dance, every stroll through the park. However, all seats were strictly assigned and prescribed, and violations of etiquette were severely punished, so competition began as early as the invitation stage. The distribution of seats at the table was an unmistakable indicator of who would later enjoy the King's favor, and consequently, who would wield more power and more wealth. The King's invitation to dance with a lady was almost tantamount to enrolling her as his favorite, almost certainly making her a future duchess. The celebration at Vaux-le-Vicomte was only the beginning of this tradition, one of the downsides of which was the extremely frivolous relationships among courtiers. Following the King, the male participants at the ball felt like hunters, while the females felt like the hunted. However, it's a matter of who was the hunted and who the hunter. Some ladies literally hunted for their next lovers. It was during those times that a strange tradition arose, believing that if a noblewoman didn't have a lover, she was either unattractive or stupid. For a nobleman, being without a mistress was simply unacceptable; such a loser had only one option: to cover himself with military glory, after which the ladies would be incessantly attracted to him. Our dear Count de Guiche, however, was popular with the ladies even before his military successes, but they also contributed significantly to his growing popularity among the ladies. She was so high-ranking that he simply grew tired of her, which is why he set out to conquer Princess Henrietta, that is, to win the highest prize. Only a madman who didn't value his life would ever set his sights on Queen Maria Theresa. No matter how cool the King's attitude toward his wife, none of the courtiers were to even consider becoming intimate with her, even in their dreams.
Thus, court balls and feasts were intended to transform the knightly class into a courtier, to turn warriors into lovers, and independent lords into seekers of the King's favor—in other words, to humble their pride and subordinate them to royal authority. A little later, the King even established special academies: the Royal Academy of Dance, the Academy of Opera, and the King's Administration of Entertainments. Meanwhile, the King attached great importance to the feast at Vaux-le-Vicomte, for there his gallant assault on Mademoiselle de La Valli;re's last bastions was to reach its climax. She, incidentally, had already surrendered to the victor's mercy, but, remembering the advice of the Duchess de Chevreuse, yielded to the King's gallant insistence each time as if it were the first and certainly the last such episode, which only further inflamed his blood and flattered his vanity. In this competition, La Valli;re was certainly the huntress and the King the hunted,
On the eve of this holiday, having analyzed some of the events of recent months, I realized that Fouquet was standing on the edge of the abyss.
Firstly, with his new position in March 1661, Colbert gained control of the superintendent's transaction registers. Previously, these duties had been assigned to Hervard, in whom Fouquet had confidence, so there was no cause for concern. Now, however, Colbert was empowered to monitor Fouquet's actions day after day, accumulating all information that could be used to his detriment and ignoring anything that might characterize him favorably. The mere possibility of Colbert selecting information and then presenting it to the King was a mortal danger for the superintendent.
Thus, Colbert acquired a position comparable to Fouquet's, and in some ways even superior, since Fouquet himself was not given the opportunity to control Colbert's spending. But in reality, Fouquet continued to be the most influential nobleman after the King.
Colbert had no trouble convincing Louis that Fouquet was a squanderer, embezzling enormous sums, and that he was living his flamboyant lifestyle on funds intended for the royal treasury. This was a serious danger, but Fouquet could justify himself, and besides, he was convinced, not without reason, that without him, the King would not be able to receive the funds needed for the state's needs in a timely manner. On this basis, Fouquet considered himself completely safe, but it was precisely this fact that tormented Colbert and worried the King himself.
The king could have decided to dismiss Fouquet, depriving him of actual power, but using him as an adviser if necessary, but Colbert understood perfectly well that a man like Fouquet would not be able to fulfill the functions of a conscientious adviser, just as a real war horse, such as Bucephalus, the famous horse of Alexander the Great, would rather die, refusing to eat, than allow himself to be harnessed to a yoke in order to plow a dessiatine of land of some poor peasant with a primitive plow.
From the King's actions, I realized they were aimed at Fouquet's complete ruin. Consequently, the King had decided to get rid of his Superintendent of Finances. Tax abuses could not serve as the basis for such a decision; they could only serve as a pretext for prosecution. Consequently, I understood that Colbert was convincing the King that Fouquet's crimes were not limited to embezzlement and abuse. What would anger the King most were Fouquet's exorbitant claims to power and his plans for violent aggrandizement, which had already manifested itself in the fortification of Belle-;le. Fouquet narrowly avoided the charge of conspiracy by gifting Belle-;le to the King, preempting the accusation. Had it been made simultaneously with his arrest, no such justification would have been convincing in the eyes of the courts and, most importantly, in the opinion of the King.
I understood that Colbert would claim that Fouquet was hatching plans to launch something akin to another Fronde, attracting people with his extremely generous gifts, fortifying fortresses, plotting conspiracies, using ingratiated writers and poets to pen proclamations and pamphlets, and buying important positions for his friends at the treasury's expense—in other words, nurturing plans to become the absolute master of the state. If Colbert had managed to convince the King of this, he would have gone beyond a simple resignation; it smelled of arrest and even worse.
If Fouquet were arrested, I would lose a significant portion of the influence I had exerted with his money and his help, something he himself was unaware of. This would disrupt my plans. I faced a choice: allow Fouquet's arrest and fall, and then leisurely pursue my own plans, or try to prevent it, save Fouquet, and preserve one of the most powerful levers of influence over France's economy and politics, which would give me far greater opportunities and freedom of action.
I chose to save Fouquet. This pushed me to accelerate my plans to exploit the King's brother, despite the fact that I hadn't yet fully ascertained what kind of man he was, how much I could trust him, and whether he was even capable of handling the task I intended to entrust to him—that is, to become an exact replica of the current King, even though, unlike the true Louis XIV , he would have to see me as a savior, a friend, a mentor, or even a master. Well, it was a risk. But of two risks—losing Fouquet or failing to secure the necessary influence over Louis-Philippe—that was the name of the King's brother—I chose the latter.
The main obstacle to my plans was my dear friend d'Artagnan. I had no chance of making him my accomplice, having missed the opportunity to win him over immediately after Mazarin's death. The King had already charmed him; d'Artagnan had received from him the position of captain of the king's musketeers, his gratitude was lifelong, his personal loyalty to Louis XIV was unwavering, becoming a character trait. However, I expressed myself incorrectly about winning d'Artagnan over to my side. It was impossible; d'Artagnan was the kind of man who always acted on his own behalf. He decided for himself whom he served, how, with what, and when. He had only one weakness—his weakness for us, his friends. I had no doubt that d'Artagnan would never do anything that would harm me personally. But this would not prevent him from sabotaging my plans if he deemed it necessary in his service to the King. This had to be taken into account.
I understood that the King wouldn't arrest Fouquet until the end of the festivities at Vaux-le-Vicomte, since the festivities were intended to impress the new favorite, Mademoiselle de La Valli;re, and establish her new place before all the courtiers. Besides, the King was young and therefore curious. He was interested in finding out what the richest nobleman in the Kingdom would prepare for the festivities. He had seen Vaux-le-Vicomte during its early construction, passing through, and he wanted to see what money and enterprise could do with such an unattractive castle in such a short time.
The celebrations were scheduled to last several days, and during these days the entire royal family and many courtiers were to be accommodated at the Ch;teau de Vaux-le-Vicomte. I could know in advance which chambers the King would be staying in and sleeping in, so the substitution of the King with his brother would be best accomplished at that time. I wouldn't have this opportunity at the Louvre; I might have to wait months or even years for a more convenient opportunity, whereas the King's stay at Vaux-le-Vicomte was a predictable affair, for which I could make all the necessary preparations.
So, it was decided, the substitution would take place in Vaud. King Louis XIV would arrive for the feast , and in his place, a new King, Louis-Philippe, would depart from Vaud, indistinguishable from the previous one. I alone would know that this man was different, and he would trust only me, consult only me, and accept only my advice as absolute. Luck was in my lap.
All that remained was to lull d'Artagnan's vigilance, and after the substitution had taken place, the new favorite had to be removed as quickly as possible, since during the intimacy between her and the King, they could have developed a whole set of secret signs of love, gestures, words, and symbols. A substitution of a lover cannot be hidden from the eyes of a woman in love. Even a wife does not always recognize such a substitution; her eyes are not as discerning as those of a loving woman. I had no doubt that Louise was in love with the King, although I did not consider this love selfless. People have an astonishing ability to combine the highest feelings with the basest, as long as they do not contradict each other! And even the sincerest love will not banish self-interest, just as the truest righteousness will not banish pride and narcissism, and the deepest feeling of caring will not abolish selfishness and complacency. Such is life.
In the forged memoirs, written in Grimaud's hand, the account of these events is chaotic and contradictory. Tell me, pray, for what purpose would I have sought to order a costume exactly identical to the King's? Since I planned to carry out the substitution at night while Louis slept, Philippe was to wear not an identical costume, but the very same one prepared for the King. No additional costumes were necessary; they would have merely constituted additional evidence and could even have served as proof of the substitution I had made. I had no intention of making such costumes; it would not only have been unnecessary but also dangerous, and it could have aroused unnecessary suspicion. And avoiding the duck would have been difficult. Philippe was to don the King's costume, while I intended to dress Louis himself in the garb of a Bastille prisoner, for which he would have to be sedated.
Grimaud's fantasies about lowering and raising ceilings are equally absurd. Such a mechanism can't be hidden, and it might not work when needed, plus it could make a lot of noise. And I can't even imagine how it could be accomplished; I'm not the talented engineer to construct such mechanisms, powered by who-knows-where force. It would require pumping stations, sturdy pipes, water towers, and God knows what else. Why raise and lower ceilings if all you need to do is move a sleeping person from one place to another? Raising or lowering ceilings would require the strength of two dozen men or several heavy horses. What good is this, if it is enough to simply have the keys to the King's bedroom, especially if this bedroom was designed according to my plans, and it has a secret door leading to a secret spiral staircase connecting this bedroom with exactly the same room on the first floor, and hidden from prying eyes by exactly the same secret door?

Chapter 242

Another mistake Fouquet made was ordering the fleet at his disposal to depart in search of great booty. It was no secret that his fleet was engaged in privateering and trading operations from the colonies. To quickly generate income, the fleet needed to operate more efficiently. Fouquet dispatched the entire merchant fleet to retrieve the most valuable goods, and the most valuable goods were those brought in over the longest routes. The privateering ships left the confines of the adjacent seas and headed far out to sea in hopes of rich spoils. In doing so, Fouquet effectively deprived himself of his fleet, including the best-armed ships, and even those ships in particular. Thus, he deprived himself not only of the possibility of armed confrontation at sea but also of escape by sea. In effect, he voluntarily abandoned, for a time, one of the most effective means of protecting himself from the King's pursuit.
Fouquet's other major mistake was selling the position of attorney general. Colbert played this game like clockwork. The superintendent's position as procureur g;n;ral granted him, if not complete immunity from judicial investigation, then at least extremely robust protection, as robust as possible in an absolute monarchy. Only the court of the Paris Parlement could investigate the holder of this high legal post. But that court was staffed entirely by Fouquet's men. Thus, if a case of abuse had been launched, the position would have provided Fouquet with all the advantages of a highly formalized legal procedure and, of course, a favorable outcome due to the profound sympathy he enjoyed among the judges, among whom he counted many friends and relatives. It should also be noted that this year, the Parlement remained hostile to the royal administration and, in particular, to Colbert. In such a situation, parliamentarians would have seized on the opportunity to launch numerous investigations into all the circumstances of the case, turning the Fouquet affair into an affair involving the financial administration of Mazarin, Fouquet, and Colbert. This investigation could have led to areas where neither the King nor Colbert would have wished to delve.
Colbert understood this perfectly well, so he hatched a complex scheme to deprive Fouquet of this protection by luring him into a trap. To this end, the King outwardly displayed extraordinary favor toward his Superintendent of Finances, even hinting rather openly that Fouquet was soon destined for a brilliant rise, but that he would first need to prove himself in his current position. Specifically, the King required a million livres for unexpected expenses, and if a way could be found to resolve this problem, it would be in Fouquet's own interests.
"Your Majesty, a solution can be found!" the delighted superintendent replied. "To raise the required million, I'm prepared to sell anything I own. Just give the order, and I'll sell Vaux-le-Vicomte!"
"The price of Vaux-le-Vicomte is significantly higher than the amount demanded," the King objected. "Furthermore, if this sum is returned to you, you will not be able to buy your castle back, since the new owner may not agree to sell it to you for the same price he paid for it from you."
Fouquet was extremely pleased that it was apparently not a question of an irretrievable monetary loss, but merely of a loan to the King.
"I will sell whatever Your Majesty consents to!" Fouquet exclaimed in a burst of generosity. "For example, I could sell the position of Attorney General."
Having said this, Fouquet immediately repented, but thought that perhaps the King would forbid him this deal as well. But Louis's reaction was not what Fouquet expected.
"That's an excellent idea!" he replied. "Besides, I was planning to reform the judicial system anyway, so this position will soon lose its current significance."
"The King is hinting that if I don't sell the position of Attorney General now, I won't be able to get a good price for it later!" thought Fouquet. "By informing me that this position will lose its value, the King is doing me a favor. I should take advantage of this opportunity!"
“I will give up this position and receive the required sum, which I will hand over to you immediately,” said Fouquet.
"Even if this position remains valuable, I dare not show that I distrust the King's advice," Fouquet thought. "If the King deigns to give his subject advice, it must be taken as an order. Even if he now says he leaves the decision to my discretion, to disregard His Majesty's advice would be to insult him by mistrusting his words!"
"That's an excellent idea," the King repeated. "The position you occupy could prove an obstacle to your further advancement. Didn't I tell you I've been harboring grievances against Seguier?"
"He'll fire S;guier and give me the chancellorship!" thought Fouquet. "In that case, the prosecutor's office will truly be nothing but a hindrance! Can a chancellor also be attorney general? Or perhaps I'm destined for something higher, like the post of first minister, vacant since Mazarin's death, and who better to fill it than me? A better candidate couldn't be found in all of France!"
"It's decided," Fouquet replied. "Achille de Arlay has already asked me if I would agree to sell it to him."
"Arles is friendly with Fouquet," thought the King. "No big deal. Let Fouquet resign first, and then it won't be difficult to remove Arles by offering him the post of Attorney General to a more reliable man."
"I fully trust and rely on your decision," the King replied. "Give this position to a man you yourself have confidence in, and at first you will be able to assist him in this new endeavor; subsequently, you will most likely lead him on a more substantial basis."
These words further convinced Fouquet that he would do the right thing by selling this position, since he was destined for something much better. The trap worked.
Fouquet sold the post of Attorney General for one million four hundred thousand livres. Of this sum, four hundred thousand livres went to Basile Fouquet, the superintendent's brother, and a million livres in cash was handed over to Vincennes as a gift to the King and for his personal use.
By selling this position, Fouquet ceased to be a member of Parliament and was no longer subject to its jurisdiction. However, he was now subject to the jurisdiction of an ordinary civil court, which would not have been able to hear his case before this sale.

Chapter 243

By daring something small, one involuntarily risks everything one has. I decided to kidnap the King and replace him with his twin brother, Philip, who looked exactly like him. I convinced myself that such an act was not a crime, but merely the restoration of justice. Philip's right to the throne was no less than Louis's. By human and divine law, twin brothers are considered one person, two persons. The rights of one cannot be higher than those of the other, and if we are to make a distinction between them, then the one born second may have been conceived first, like large pellets placed in a tree trunk, one after the other. However, I am not an expert in anatomy; I will dwell on the idea of their complete equality in rights. If it was permissible to imprison Philip in the Bastille and grant Louis the right to reign, then reversing their positions was not only possible but also purposeful, to restore justice. After all, Louis had been enjoying what should have rightfully belonged to both of them in equal shares, while Philip was completely dispossessed. So why not reverse them, so that Philip could now enjoy the elevated position he had inherited, while Louis would be perfectly justified in suffering the fate that befell his unfortunate brother through his own fault, even if unknowingly?
This is what I said to myself, and this is how I convinced myself of the legitimacy and justice of my intentions.
But I'll be honest with myself, as I am with these memoirs. I foresaw great gains for myself in such a reshuffle, and so my conscience and my intellect obligingly provided me with these arguments. If I truly wanted justice to be restored, then I would have sought to place both brothers on the throne, although this was much more difficult and, frankly, simply impossible. And if it had come to pass, it would have been dangerous for the state and for at least one of them. History knows of times with two rulers, but this never led to anything good. Two rulers, Romulus and Remus, did not hold power for long; Romulus killed Remus. They say there was a Tsar Ivan in Rus' who placed a certain Simeon Bekbulatovich on his throne and then retired. However, this didn't last long; Tsar Ivan returned, and Simeon was exiled. However, this Simeon outlived both Ivan himself and his successors, but these reshuffles did not bring order to this northern kingdom. Now, as I write these lines, two tsars, Ivan and Peter, sit on the throne in that same kingdom, two cousins, but supposedly with equal rights to the throne. I foresee that one will eliminate the other. Being right is not as important as being the winner. History itself will find many excuses for the winner. They say one is older, the other wiser. If rights to the throne were determined by reason, then hereditary monarchy would have come to an end, and we would all live like savage Poles, electing a new ruler to the throne by vote. So, by all human laws, the throne should be ascended not by the smartest, but by the eldest of the last ruler's legitimate children, and his ability to rule the state has nothing to do with it. Otherwise, something like a competition for the position of King would have to be held. It's laughable, and nothing more. Only in China are government positions filled by competition based on the results of some kind of exam, and even there, the emperor is elected by right of inheritance. If that savage country couldn't even think of electing a king, then in enlightened France, where all positions are inherited or purchased for a considerable sum, nothing but a hereditary monarchy will take root. Besides, in our country, people love a little rebellion to extract concessions or protest the rule of a foreign prime minister, but France will never resort to the horrors to which England has already resorted twice: cutting off the head of its king or queen! Living on an island hardens people, that's undeniable. In France, the person of the king and queen is inviolable, and it always will be, unless the monarchs themselves decide to demand their own trial someday, but for that, one would have to be completely insane. However, I was discussing the open actions of the people against royal figures. I myself was quite prepared to commit violence against Louis XIV , guided by the considerations I have cited, which even contain lofty motives. However, lofty considerations are fine for Athos, but for me it was enough that it was advantageous to me and expedient for my fundamental aspirations. If necessary, I might even have decided to assassinate the King, but I am not entirely certain of this. It was not part of my plans. Yes, I would have killed Louis if it had been necessary to save one of my three friends, and not a single ounce of emotion would have stirred within me. Would I have killed him to save my own life? Honestly, I don't know! Most likely not. It would have been too vulgar, mundane, ignoble. I believe I would rather have allowed myself to be executed than stain myself with such a vile crime, in which there is nothing sublime. A crime committed in the name of friendship isn't much of a crime, but a crime committed in the name of saving one's own life is far too heinous, for it gives rise to the suspicion of cowardice. And the Chevalier d'Herblay was never a coward; he always faced any danger with a smile on his face! Even Athos didn't condemn me for my plan or its execution, saying that even if it was a mistake, it was a great deed. And if a man as scrupulous in matters of honor as the Comte de la F;re doesn't condemn my actions, then God himself would have approved of them. So, I am ashamed of nothing and regret nothing. We always find justification for our plans if they promise us profit. Or salvation. However, my goal wasn't so much to save Fouquet as to realize my own grand plans, and after so many years I can say to myself without shame: these plans were grand, and I regret nothing. It was my first attempt to achieve what fate had destined me for, and not the worst idea, by the way! Philippe would have been my obedient tool, at least for the time being; that would have been enough. As I already wrote, my only mistake was not taking d'Artagnan into account. If there were other mistakes, they were of no consequence; they might only have created temporary difficulties and only slightly and briefly diverted my steps and successes from the shortest path. But d'Artagnan became the destructive force that reduced my daring plans to nothing. To this day, I can only speculate as to how he managed to see through me, though he later hinted at some of my miscalculations that gave him clues to this mystery. I think he was merely laughing at me. I will never know the truth. I'd sooner learn what the Turkish Sultan is planning than what d'Artagnan is planning, if he's decided to hide his plans from me.
The basic outline of the events that took place at Vaux-le-Vicomte is laid out in Grimaud's notes relatively accurately, but the devil is in the details. Grimaud invented many details that bear no relation to reality, and omitted things he couldn't and shouldn't have known. I didn't make any copies of the King's costumes, I didn't invent any lowering and rising ceilings; everything was much simpler. A sleeping powder mixed into the King's drink, secret doors in the bedroom intended for Louis, as well as in the room below it.
The first order of business was to rescue Philippe from the Bastille. I agree that installing the King in his place that very day would have been a very clever move; it would have truly covered up the traces of this invisible coup in the best possible way, but in that case, Philippe simply wouldn't have been ready to take his new position! He wouldn't even have had time to comprehend what had happened to him! Not to mention properly preparing for my new role. At the very least, I had to first obtain his consent to participate in this undertaking, and also be assured of his loyalty to me and my friends; otherwise, there would have been no point in undertaking this substitution!
So, I went to the Bastille to see our mutual friend, the Marquis de Bezmo, with d'Artagnan.
The Commandant of the Bastille, Fran;ois de Montlezin, Marquis de Besmos, a brigadier general, was certainly not the gallant musketeer with whom we had gotten along so well in the days of Louis XIII and Richelieu, in those glorious times when our enemies were merely Milady, Rochefort, Richelieu, and his three hundred guardsmen and fifty spies—what a trifle! I wouldn't call Cardinal Richelieu a trifle, but he showed us a difficult-to-explain leniency, which I nevertheless attribute to two circumstances. First, he respected strong opponents, but that's not enough, since he still preferred to see strong opponents defeated and forever deprived of the power to resist him. The second thing remains, and that is that he hoped to win us over to his side. Of course, he didn't demand that we betray our duty and refuse to serve the King! The fact is, traitors never make good servants or warriors. But formally, Richelieu was His Majesty's servant, so serving the cardinal would have meant merely a small but advantageous change in the form of service without altering its essence. Although, of course, it would have been a betrayal of de Treville, of whom I retain only the most reverent and tender memories, and, in a way, a betrayal of the Queen and her party, for whom, frankly, I didn't care then, during the incident with the pendants, and even less so afterwards . The past would in no way help me win over Besmo, who, as he believed, had risen to the very heights of power. I had a stronger argument. In the hierarchy of the Jesuit Order, Besmo was merely a candidate for coadjutor, little more than a simple, seasoned novice. For me, he was a pawn in my game.

Chapter 244

On the way to the Bastille, I chatted with a young man whose stature, age, and hair color resembled those of the young King Louis XIV . If you didn't look closely, except for his face, he could easily have passed for the King, if, for example, he had worn a mask. His face, of course, was completely different. His name was Jean Hers.
"So, young man, have you thought about my proposal carefully and do you agree to it?" I asked him.
“I simply have no choice,” he replied. “I agree.”
“You are right, you have no choice,” I agreed. “You are wanted by the justice system, and you face the death penalty for your intent to assassinate the King. You were so imprudent as to declare your intention in the presence of too many witnesses. Since you outlined your plan and even boasted of the dagger you had for this purpose, your listeners could not attribute your boasting to drunkenness or insanity. Unfortunately for you, two of Colbert’s spies were among those who heard your speech. Their testimony corroborated, and you have been ordered for immediate arrest. I propose that you hide where no one will think to look for you; namely, you will temporarily replace a high-ranking prisoner in the Bastille. You will be treated with discretion, fed like a grandee, and enjoy all the privileges of the ducal class; you will even be addressed as monseigneur.” All you have to do is keep quiet and wear a mask whenever food is brought to you or when you are visited for other reasons. Such are the rules for keeping this prisoner. I, for my part, promise that in two months, when the passions surrounding you have died down, I will extract you from the Bastille and offer you a simpler and more pleasant way to hide from the hounds of Messrs. Villeroy, Letellier, and Colbert. You will live a luxurious life, promising me never again to plot against the King. In this way, you will avoid the death penalty, hiding out in warmth, well-fed, and contented quarters where neither M. Villeroy, M. Letellier, nor M. Colbert will find you. You will not find another such safe place to hide from them in all of France, I guarantee you that.
"I thank you on behalf of myself and my good mother!" the young man exclaimed. "May the Lord protect you for your kindness!"
"The Lord will hear your prayers," I replied. "You must follow all the instructions you have already received from me and wait patiently. In two months, I will extract you from the Bastille, but for now, just rest, enjoy excellent food, and think about what you will do once the mortal danger has passed. For now, you must wait in my carriage until I return for you."
Meanwhile, the carriage drove up to the gates of the Bastille.
“Report to the commandant that his former colleague and friend named Aramis has arrived to see him,” I said to the guard.
I wasn't risking much by naming this name. A search for a certain Aramis, after I hadn't used that name outside of my closest circle of friends for over thirty years, would have been a dead end. But old friends, of course, remembered it.
A few minutes later, Bezmo himself appeared on the threshold of the Bastille.
"My dear Aramis!" exclaimed Bezmo. "What brings you here?"
“Dear General, I ask you to arrange for my carriage to be allowed into the fortress, since there is a person in it whom we will discuss a little later, and I would not like him to disappear while we are having a nice conversation,” I said.
“But I can only admit visitors by carriage into the Bastille by order of the King or the minister,” answered Bezmo.
"We're not talking about a prisoner," I replied. "I simply wish to visit you as an old friend, and I intend to stop by your private quarters. The carriage will simply wait for me in the fortress courtyard. It's late, and I'd like to avoid unnecessary contact between my coachman and my passenger, on the one hand, and random passersby and perhaps swordsmen, on the other."
"Since when is Aramis afraid of swordsmen?" Bezmo asked with a grin.
“Oh, believe me, I’m not at all afraid for myself, I’m only worried about my passenger,” I replied.
“Brigands and robbers avoid the Bastille, but, however, as you say,” answered Bezmo and ordered that the carriage be allowed into the inner courtyard.
We went up to Bezmo's apartments, and he invited me to the table, where a very sumptuous supper was laid. The general's servant filled our goblets with Burgundy and departed.
"I see you've settled in quite nicely, my dear friend!" I exclaimed, looking around the rather well-furnished, but tasteless, apartment.
“Yes, I’m doing pretty well,” answered the flattered Bezmo.
"Aren't you bored at this post, General?" I asked.
“On the contrary, I really like my position, and it brings in a very good income,” Bezmo answered proudly.
"Really?" I asked, feigning surprise. "What income could there possibly be from the position of Commandant of the Bastille, other than the regular salary?"
“Different,” Bezmo answered evasively, realizing that he had said too much.
“Well, in that case, Lady Olympia will be very pleased,” I answered with feigned indifference.
" Mistress Olympia?" Bezmo asked. "Which Mistress Olympia are you talking about, and what does she have to do with this?"
"Madame Olympia Mancini, or rather, excuse me, Countess of Soissons, the heiress of Cardinal Mazarin," I replied. "After all, she inherited the cardinal's fortune along with his other nieces."
"I'm very flattered that she's interested in my fate," Bezmo muttered. "But I don't quite understand the connection between my income and the joy of the Countess of Soissons."
"The connection is very direct, Monsieur de Besmo," I replied. "After all, you seem to have purchased the general's commission and the post of commandant of the Bastille from her uncle, Cardinal Mazarin, for a million livres? Or am I mistaken?"
"Well, what does it matter now?" asked Bezmo.
"Absolutely none, Mr. Bezmo," I replied. "By the way, it's a wonderful wine."
"They send me the best wine from Burgundy," Bezmo agreed. "And also from Bordeaux."
"I'm very happy for you, Mr. Bezmo," I replied. "The wine is excellent. Yes, so what was I talking about? Of course, the Countess is very pleased to know that your position is bringing you income, since you only paid half for the purchase of these two positions, and you left a receipt for the other half, didn't you?"
“You seem to be well informed,” Bezmo said, and I heard annoyance in his voice.
"Yes, someone probably told you that the receipt was lost among the late cardinal's papers, but you were misled," I continued. "The cardinal guarded his securities very carefully, especially those worth half a million livres. This receipt is part of the Countess's inheritance, and she instructed me to find out when she would be able to receive the money, as well as the interest on it."
“This is so unexpected,” said Bezmo, who turned pale.
"It's always unexpected when you have to pay off your debts," I replied. "It's a shame, isn't it? It would be much nicer if the debts were written off just like that, don't you think? But unfortunately, the Countess is in need of money. It seems she's planning some renovations to her castle, though I don't know, perhaps she wants to update her wardrobe or buy some diamonds for the upcoming holiday. In other words, she needs the money as soon as possible."
"But I don't have the means to pay this debt quickly!" Bezmo exclaimed.
"What a pity," I replied. "In that case, borrow some more money from someone, that's my advice. You know His Majesty is very kind to the Countess. He was friends with her since childhood. He won't allow a childhood friend to be harmed. If she complains to the King, you could lose your post as commandant and, what's more, even your commission as a general! Would that be a good thing?"
"I could probably raise a hundred thousand in two or three months," Bezmo muttered. "Do you think that's enough for now?"
" A hundred thousand livres – that's wonderful!" I replied cheerfully. "A hundred thousand livres is a good sum, isn't it, Monsieur Besmo?"
"That's what I'm saying, this is actually quite a good sum!" Bezmo happily chimed in.
"That's a remarkable sum," I agreed. "Especially when one needs a hundred thousand livres. But when one needs half a million, a hundred thousand is extremely little, isn't it?"
“Perhaps so,” de Bezmo agreed sadly.
"Whatever you say, your wine is simply superb!" I continued, taking another microscopic sip. "Well, a hundred thousand in a couple of months is not at all the same as half a million livres in three days."
“Three days?!” Bezmo cried out in horror.
"These are the Countess's terms," I replied. "She will present the receipt to the court in three days. You know that the payment deadline for this receipt expired two years ago."
“But this is so unexpected,” Bezmo said again.
"Very unexpected," I agreed. "Like snow in December, or rain in September. Very annoying."
Bezmo remained silent. I, too, remained silent for a while.
“Perhaps I could persuade the Countess to wait two weeks, no more,” I said.
"It won't do any good," Bezmo said sullenly. "It will take me two years to raise that amount."
We remained silent for a little while longer.
"Speaking of my guest," I said, "he needs to see one of your prisoners."
“That’s forbidden without a proper order,” Bezmo answered dispassionately.
"I thought so," I replied. "Well, if you can't help me, I see no reason why I should help you. It was nice seeing you, and all the best!"
"Wait, Monsieur d'Herblay!" cried Besmo. "You mean to say that you could help me?"
“Of course,” I replied. “If you would accommodate my humble request, I could intercede for you.”
"How so?" asked Bezmo.
“I could persuade the Countess to be satisfied with half of this sum now, and the other half in two months,” I replied.
“But that doesn’t solve the matter,” Bezmo answered sadly.
"Didn't I tell you that I could lend you two hundred and fifty thousand livres now and the same amount in two months?" I asked. "Then I must have forgotten. Yes, I could have helped you out in that way."
"For how long could you lend me this money?" Bezmo asked. "And at what interest rate?"
" There's no talk of any interest, we're friends!" I replied. "As for the term, you said you'd need two years? Let's say I'll lend you the sum for four."
"You are my savior!" Bezmo exclaimed.
"So what about my passenger's meeting with your prisoner?" I asked.
"We'll arrange that, don't worry!" Bezmo replied. "Let's get something to eat first."
“Of course!” I replied.
After this, Bezmo cut a fat leg from the roast goose and began to eat it with gusto, washing it down with wine. I limited myself to a few grapes.
"By the way, I knew you were a reasonable man, and that we were talking," I said. "Write a receipt for two hundred and fifty thousand livres. In exchange, I'll give you this."
“What is this?” asked Bezmo.
“A receipt from Madame Olympia Mancini, Countess of Susson, stating that she has received from you today two hundred and fifty thousand livres for the obligation you left to the late Cardinal Mazarin, and that she is prepared to wait two months for the second half of the remaining debt,” I replied and presented the said paper to the general.
After this, the papers were exchanged, and I led my passenger to the prisoner's cell. There, my passenger exchanged clothes with the prisoner, whom I then escorted out of the Bastille, disguised as my acquaintance.

Chapter 245

Need I point out that d'Artagnan certainly didn't hate Mazarin, and I certainly didn't like Fouquet? D'Artagnan held Mazarin in high esteem and was loyal to him in everything, while I simply respected Fouquet; he inspired a friendly disposition in me, until he made so many mistakes that he harmed himself and everyone else associated with him, including me. I would never sacrifice the interests of my friends or my own interests to those of Fouquet. The scene in which Fouquet introduces me to the King, and d'Artagnan simultaneously introduces Porthos, is described superbly in Grimaud's literary style. I even regret that nothing like this ever happened, just as there was no confrontation between d'Artagnan and me, and no explanation between us that left us both dissatisfied. I simply went my own way, d'Artagnan his, and we didn't even suspect how close our paths were, and how much they could, at one far from wonderful moment, intersect and influence each other.
So, I will return to the story of how I rescued Philippe from the Bastille. I lied to Monsieur Besmo that his promissory note was in the possession of Olimpia Mancini and that she had inherited it. This promissory note was entirely in my possession, and I could claim the money on it myself, since I had bought it from Olimpia at par, paying interest on top of it, rightly convincing her that with its help she could certainly ruin poor Besmo's life, but would hardly be able to collect the money, since I was well aware of the general's financial situation. For this money, Olimpia wrote two promissory notes for two identical sums, totaling Besmo's entire debt, marking these notes with the dates I had indicated to her, and also handed over Besmo's promissory note to me, providing it with the appropriate endorsement. Thus, Besmo became my debtor, not the Countess's.
Besmo, indeed, had no spare cash. He had told the truth, claiming he could only raise a fifth of that sum, and not even that quickly, but only by borrowing it in installments from any friend he had who had money and who would lend it to him on his word of honor, without serious collateral. Since Besmo mistakenly believed that the note he had given Mazarin had been lost, he presumptuously considered himself free from the obligation to repay it. My men had misled him into this, so he had invested his profits in colonial trade. Until the ships returned with their goods, he would not be able to get his money back, only by selling his share of the investment at a loss. The Cardinal, out of favor with Besmo, might have waited for payment, but the heirs would have demanded payment as soon as possible. The term for repayment on the loan agreement had indeed expired two years ago, but the Cardinal had failed to add a note extending it for several more years. So, this receipt was a great nuisance for Bezmo, his insoluble problem, which I took advantage of. I reserved my authority as General of the Order for a more complex situation. This is how we Jesuits operate: if a problem can be solved by simple means, we don't resort to more complex ones, since the unconditional obedience of its members to the Order is maintained precisely because such obedience is not required daily, but only in extreme cases, and to refuse such obedience is simply impossible.
With the receipt in hand and Bezmo's offer of a several-year deferment, I gained power over him for that period. Bezmo had to be confident that I wouldn't use this power to his detriment, wouldn't reveal his violation, and, what's more, he didn't know that instead of a regular visit with the prisoner, I would arrange a substitution.
I informed Bezmo that the visitor was a nobleman who wished to remain anonymous, and for this reason he had donned a mask. Bezmo didn't object. Furthermore, I had deliberately prepared high-heeled, thick-soled boots for Jean Hers, so that he appeared a good two inches taller than he was. For this reason, Bezmo, who knew his prisoner's height perfectly well, didn't notice that my companion resembled him, shared the same height, posture, and hair color.
We entered Philip's cell, which was furnished like a nobleman's room, except for the bars on the window and the absence of cutting and piercing objects, as well as a mirror.
“Monsignor, listen to me, I beg you, and if you have any questions for me, ask them only after you have heard me out to the end,” I said.
Philip nodded silently and looked at me and my companion with interest.
“You could, by shouting or making noise, either intentionally or accidentally, betray us and our plans,” I continued. “In that case, your fate, which is not only harsh but also extremely unfair, will worsen even further, and I’m not even sure you’ll save your life. You are imprisoned, unaware of any guilt. I intend to rectify this immediately. You are being given the opportunity to leave this fortress, this prison, this stone cell, immediately, this very minute, forever. You can do this only by exchanging clothes with this young man, who will voluntarily take your place. Do not fear for his fate; he will leave here soon, too. This would only be fair to you. New opportunities will open up before you, and most importantly – freedom. Including the freedom to choose your own destiny. If you refuse this, you will never have another such opportunity, I am sure. Only today, now – freedom or eternal imprisonment. I cannot even give you time to think about it.” Just take my advice and do what I say, or refuse it. If you refuse, you will regret it for the rest of your life. Now decide.
“I’m ready!” said Philip, pulling off his shirt.
A few minutes later, Jean Hers took Philippe's place, and Philippe, wearing the same clothes Jean had brought with me, walked out of the prison with me. The heeled boots made Philippe look taller, and Bezmo didn't suspect a thing.
I walked Philip to the carriage, put him in it and told him to wait for my return.
“Marquis, you can be sure that I keep my word,” I told him.
I took out of my pocket Bezmo's receipt, certified by Mazarin's officials, and showed him the back of this document with the endorsement.
As you can see, I have cancelled the document, and now you owe this sum not to the Countess, but to me. Anticipating that you would have difficulty repaying this debt within the timeframe the Countess expected to receive the money, I have already made arrangements for it to be repaid. So, your financial affairs are now significantly simplified. I am granting you a three-year grace period. You have already written a receipt for the first half of the sum in exchange for the Countess's receipt. Write a receipt for the second half, and I will give you this document along with Olympia's receipt for the second half. Thus, you officially become my debtor, and the payment deadline is deferred for three years.
I could well have allowed myself to forgive Bezmo this debt altogether, but he had to be kept on the hook, and this hook had to be quite reliable.
After this I said goodbye to the Marquis, who was very kind to me.
"Let's go!" I commanded the coachman.
The gates opened, and we left the Bastille. Until the walls of the Bastille could still be seen through the rear window of the carriage, neither Philippe nor I said a word. Finally, we had driven far enough.
"Well, Monsignor, I welcome you to your new life, free and with wonderful prospects!" I said. "You will not regret your choice."
"First of all, Mr. Unknown, allow me to express my profound gratitude for allowing me to taste freedom," said Philippe. "I wouldn't regret it even if I were killed in a minute. It's an unforgettable feeling, one I'd almost forgotten, for I've been a prisoner for nearly half my life, and even before that, I wasn't entirely free; I was carefully guarded, and I barely knew anyone. I'd be even more grateful if you could explain to me why you call me monsignor, and why I've been deprived of freedom my entire life."
"I will explain everything to you, and above all, that calling you monsignor is unworthy of your position," I replied. "I must address you, at the very least, as Your Highness, but soon, very soon, I hope, everyone will address you as nothing less than Your Majesty."
“I don’t understand,” Philip replied. “Are you planning to overthrow your rightful King?”
"No, Your Highness, I intend to return the throne to the rightful King of France, that is, to you," I replied. "The one who is now called the King has no more right to it than you, since he and you are one, in other words, a twin brother and an exact copy of King Louis XIV of France . Here, admire the portrait of the King, and here is a mirror. It is an object in which every person sees himself. You were never given a mirror for the reason that they feared that, upon seeing your face, you would understand who you are and what was taken from you.

Chapter 246

Philippe wore a wide beard that reached all the way to his chin, trimming it himself with rounded-tipped scissors, using touch. He had never been given a mirror, and he had no idea that anyone could see their own face so easily. Fortunately, I foresaw that Philippe was not clean-shaven, and without knowing in advance what kind of beard he wore, I prepared a mask for Jean Hers that completely concealed his chin. Philippe then used this same mask to conceal his own face.
"Are you planning a palace coup?" Philip asked.
"My plans are simpler," I replied. "I knew you were remarkably similar to your brother Louis. Now I'm convinced of that, since I've seen your brother quite often and quite closely. You'll simply take his place, and no one but me will suspect it. He'll take your place, the very one currently occupied temporarily by an acquaintance of mine. He volunteered to stay there so that no one would miss you."
"How will you do that?" Philip asked in surprise.
“We’ll talk about that later if you accept my plan,” I replied. “First of all, would you mind telling me whether you agree to my proposal?”
"You have contemplated what seems to me to be a state crime," Philip replied thoughtfully. "But I agree with you that I have no less a right to occupy the position my brother occupies, if indeed he occupies it, whereas I was thrown into prison without any fault as some kind of criminal. If I was treated as a criminal when I was not one, I consider that I have already atoned for my guilt."
“You are right, and I completely agree with you,” I agreed.
"You will probably make it a condition that I obey you in my new position?" Philip asked.
"It will be enough for me if you refuse to inflict the evil your brother has planned on me and my friends," I replied. "Of course, you are not well acquainted with palace life, with etiquette, with your new rights, duties, and opportunities. You will need a mentor, a good friend who can help you navigate these complexities."
“And I already see that I have it,” Philip answered, looking into my eyes.
"I didn't expect us to find common ground so quickly," I admired. "You reason very clearly. I was afraid that your imprisonment in the Bastille would affect your thinking."
"In the last six months, I've been given books on the history of France and the history of court customs, on etiquette and heraldry," Philippe said. "Since I had no other books, I read these quite carefully, and I've reread most of them several times."
"I smuggled these books to you, using some connections I have among your guards," I replied. "But that's not enough. You'll have a lot of reading and learning to do in the next two months. In sixty days, you'll take your place as King. All that time, I'll be your tutor and mentor."
“I agree,” Philip replied. “How should I address you?”
"For my own safety, I should conceal my name from you for the time being," I replied. "But I have made my choice, and like you, there is no turning back. Know then that my name is Chevalier d'Herblay, I am the Bishop of Vannes, and, furthermore, I hold a very high position in the Jesuit Order, and it is by the Order's command that I am undertaking this matter. Therefore, our undertaking is sanctified by the will of God, since the Order answers personally to the Pope, the very man who sanctifies the coronation of every Catholic King. Since this is being done by the Order's command, you should know that the Pope himself approves of this plan."
I confess I lied. The Pope had not been informed of this plan. But otherwise I told the absolute truth, for the General of the Order ranks only one step below the Pope. This argument of mine had its effect. Philip knelt before me, though it was not entirely convenient to do so in my carriage, and wished to express his consent there and then.
"As a representative of the Holy Catholic Church, as one of the heads of the Jesuit Order, I solemnly promise to obey you and follow your plans to the end!" said Philip.
" From this moment on, these plans are not mine, but yours and mine, Your Highness," I replied. "I repeat that in two months, all of France will call you Your Majesty."
Philip rose to his feet and nodded proudly in agreement. Our agreement was sealed.
When we arrived at my castle, I personally shaved Philippe, leaving him with the same beard and mustache that Louis had worn. As I wiped the soap suds from Philippe's face, I shuddered involuntarily. It seemed as if Louis XIV himself were sitting before me. I looked at Philippe and was convinced that nature had performed a miracle. Sometimes twins, although they may resemble each other, still differ in certain features of their appearance. Even subtle differences, when combined, can lead to an attentive observer effortlessly distinguishing one brother from the other. Philippe undoubtedly had the same face as Louis. Neither had any birthmarks, and both were young, so no wrinkles had yet appeared on their faces.
The color of their eyes, the shape of their eyebrows, even their voices—they were all identical. My greatest fear was for their teeth. If Philip were missing any, it would ruin their resemblance. But the Lord was merciful to me; even on that front, there was no trick. Before me sat a man whom even his own mother wouldn't have been able to distinguish from the King!
Over the next two months, I spent as much time as possible with Philip, telling him everything he needed to know. When I had to leave on business, I provided him with the most essential literature. I even found him a small self-study guide to Spanish. Of course, Philip wouldn't have been able to learn to speak Spanish fluently from such a guide, but he would at least have been able to understand the meaning of the words spoken to him by the Queen Mother or Queen Maria Theresa. These two native Spanish women adored speaking Spanish within the family circle, so Louis, of course, also spoke Spanish perfectly. The King might suddenly decide to stop using Spanish, but it would be highly suspicious if he suddenly lost his understanding. That could have led to disaster.
Philip diligently and quite successfully mastered all the necessary knowledge; he adopted Louis's mannerisms, speech, and even some of his characteristic gestures, which I demonstrated to him to the best of my ability. By the end of two months, I myself could no longer distinguish Philip from Louis. Success was complete! All that remained was to secretly replace one brother with the other. For this purpose, I made all the necessary preparations.

Chapter 247

When we're about to commit a folly, we deliberate for a long time, but necessity frees us from the difficulty of choice and doubt. In Philippe's case, I acted out of necessity, because, unlike Fouquet, I saw his star approaching its twilight and sensed that its fall would be disastrous not only for his career but also for his wealth, power, and freedom, as well as for the cause for which I intended to enlist his help.
I intended to save Fouquet both out of gratitude for his having helped me become Bishop of Vannes, and in the hope of his possible and extremely useful assistance in the future, as well as simply because he was a rather pleasant, reasonable, and accommodating man, possessing certain principles for which he certainly deserved respect, while neglecting other important principles for which he could be forgiven. Moreover, he sometimes mistakenly attempted to combine his moral prejudices with his extreme ambitions, unable to renounce either, and unaware that if he did not make this difficult choice himself, fate would make its choice for him, and that choice would be the worst for him.
Fouquet mistakenly believed the King to be well-disposed toward him, not realizing that he was mistaking the affection of a pretender about to strike a fatal blow for respect, trust, love, and God knows what else. Nature has endowed us with the tendency to mistakenly seek lofty moral explanations for actions that are easily explained by self-interest. Fouquet is no exception. Aren't we all like that? If we are praised, we perceive it as a result of our obvious virtues, instead of considering why those who praise us seek to gain our favor or lull us into complacency. Regarding those who criticize us, we ask ourselves why they are so bad that they fail to see our virtues and exaggerate our mistakes, when we should realize that they are scolding us not for our mistakes, but for our shortcomings, and their goal is not to quarrel with us, but to influence us to change for the better. True friends don't praise us for our stupidities and mistakes, but point them out with bitterness in their hearts. True enemies don't scold us for our shortcomings, but even praise us for them, seeking to secure our trust, our support, and gain undeserved favors from us. So Fouquet saw the King as his best friend, which is why he shone like a brand-new louis d'or all those days.
He went out of his way to please the King with a festival at Vaux-le-Vicomte, not realizing that such a success for such a young and vain King, who did not yet know how to organize such festivals, and, what was most disastrous, was perfectly aware that he could not afford such luxury, only aroused a burning envy, which he gave vent to in the form of anger, carefully concealed, but directed at the one who was the cause of this unrest.
Subsequently, Colbert not only managed to organize celebrations no less lavish—for this task was undoubtedly assigned to him and considered one of the most important state functions—but also learned to extract profit from such celebrations for the treasury, even though the food, fireworks, furnishings, and everything else were provided at the King's expense, that is, from the treasury. The cunning Colbert managed to profit from his guests through their indirect and, at first glance, completely unnecessary expenses, which were a point of honor for those present . But this was still only in the near future; now, the King, observing the luxury of the celebration organized by Fouquet, felt only his impotence in this challenge to competition, which the superintendent himself had no intention of issuing to his King. While Fouquet hoped that by demonstrating his financial power to the King he would become even more indispensable to him, and therefore more necessary, and therefore closer to power and above all other courtiers, in fact he insulted the King by daring to show himself above the King in everything in which the young Louis XIV felt his inferiority especially acutely, if we take into account the almost semi-beggarly existence that he was forced to drag out during the years of unrest and threats from the Fronde, the Princes, the grandees of the unfriendly environment both inside the kingdom and beyond its borders.
Having demonstrated to the King that he was head and shoulders above him in financial ability, Fouquet finally convinced him that he would never truly become King of his kingdom until he cut off that head, or at least until he bent the neck that supported it so that it was far below his own head, the head of King Louis XIV of France , the Sun King.
Louis accepted Fouquet's invitation to the feast, which Colbert had tricked him into hosting. The celebration was scheduled for August 17th. The superintendent's various inventions, aimed at making the feast unprecedentedly luxurious, were a resounding success, but I have no time to describe them, as they were all repeatedly described by various enthusiastic courtiers in their panegyrics and encomiums.
Everyone, except the King, unanimously agreed that the celebration had been a resounding success. The King also declared himself pleased with the festivities, but naturally, a completely different feeling was brewing within him—annoyance and the sense that all this luxury was being achieved at the expense of the treasury. So, not only was Fouquet shining above the King, but he was doing it at his expense!
Louis arrived for the celebration accompanied by his entire family. The entire court, all the nobles and courtiers, arrived with him. This magnificent train of carriages arrived at Fontainebleau under the escort of the royal guard, as well as the King's Musketeers, led by d'Artagnan.
The first surprise awaited the guests as soon as they disembarked from their carriages. The palace looked like a fairytale, unreal, so beautiful, spacious, and magnificent was its festive d;cor. It was surrounded on three sides by water and vast gardens with fountains and statues. Inside, guests were greeted by a suite of halls filled with magnificent paintings, adorned with exquisite tapestries, and furnishings that shone with luxury and opulence.
The King's chambers were decorated with gilded stucco, the ceilings and walls were covered with magnificently executed allegorical paintings, painted by the best artists brought from Italy, the royal bed was hidden behind a golden balustrade.
Fouquet meticulously planned every hour and almost every minute of the guests' stay at Vaux-le-Vicomte. They were given no time to recover, offered one entertainment after another. Before they could recover from their admiration of the stunning beauty of the impeccably formed flowerbeds filled with the most exotic blooms, they were met with a new delight: a cascade of fountains, spewing over a thousand streams simultaneously, creating wondrous patterns of trembling lines, scattering into diamond-like drops, sparkling with the sunlight in all the colors of the rainbow. The formal park, in which everything obeyed strict order, suddenly gave way to an irregular one, resembling the result of a whimsical play of nature, creating landscapes that were completely natural in their form but marvelously picturesque, with secluded nooks, sparkling ponds filled with marvelous fish, a grand canal, pavilions, and grottoes.
Strolling through such gardens, guests forgot everything else, but barely had they worked up an appetite when they were invited to the table, where they were served unprecedented delicacies, personally prepared by Vatel and his skilled assistants under his watchful eye. Eighty tables were skillfully arranged and set with gold and silver cutlery. After the meal, the guests were invited to the summer theater, where the audience could enjoy the skillful performance of a new play by Moli;re, specially written for this celebration. After the performance, which included numerous ballet scenes and costumes that literally astounded the audience, the sky lit up with thousands of multicolored lights. No one expected such a fireworks display; none of those present had ever seen anything like it. Even the fireworks display set off by the King in honor of Queen Maria Theresa's entry into Paris the year before had been noticeably less lavish. At the end of the evening, guests were treated to another light meal, consisting primarily of magnificent fruit desserts, light and airy pastries of the most delicate flavors, light refreshing drinks, and exquisite wines. This dinner took place to the sounds of a violin concert, and the guests departed to the sound of trumpets and drums.
During the salute, Colbert approached Louis.
"How do you find this holiday?" the King asked his minister.
"Your Majesty, two conflicting feelings are warring within me," Colbert replied. "As a guest of Monsieur Fouquet, I cannot help but admire the magnificent ideas and the stunning execution."
“That is so, you are right, Monsieur Colbert,” agreed the King, who noticed that Mademoiselle Louise de La Valli;re was in complete delight with this celebration, which, of course, noticeably raised the mood of His Majesty.
“And as the Intendant of Finance, I estimate this celebration to be worth no less than ten million livres,” Colbert continued.
"Ten million livres?" asked the King, startled.
"Of course, Fouquet will give you a different figure, perhaps two or two and a half times less, but I'm taking into account not only the direct costs but also the indirect ones— the servants, their liveries, the furnishings, the decorations, as well as the remodeling of the park, the change in the river's course, and everything else. Even the architecture. Some buildings are intended exclusively for the celebration and will be torn down after it's over."
"What a senseless waste!" exclaimed the King.
"Everyone has the right to spend their own money as they see fit," Colbert continued in a dispassionate voice. "But the whole question is what constitutes Monsieur Fouquet's personal money. If we add up his entire salary received in Your Majesty's service during the entire time he had the good fortune to be Superintendent of Finances, and compare this sum with all the expenses he allows himself, including the purchase and renovation of Belle-Ile, as well as the acquisition of Vaux-le-Vicomte and its complete renovation, and take into account Monsieur Fouquet's other estates, including a magnificent house in Paris that would more accurately be called a palace, then one can only be amazed at how Monsieur Fouquet manages to pay all these enormous expenses from his not-so-expensive salary. Even adding in the dowry he received at his marriage, I must admit that the necessary figures do not add up." But Fouquet has several brothers who have become noticeably richer in the last five years, without having any personal income to support this, and he also allows himself to keep houses for the ladies he likes and who show him the most tender signs of attention, and then the riddle becomes even more interesting, but, I fear, almost insoluble.
"There's much to consider," replied Louis, his face darkening, seemingly on the verge of anger but still holding back. "However, we are Monsieur Fouquet's guests, so let's not speak ill of our hospitable host. Perhaps we can try to solve this mystery by examining the sources of Fouquet's wealth more closely, but a little later. After all, I've given you the necessary authority to oversee all his transactions. Prepare a report, and use as many financiers as you need. If it turns out that Fouquet's wealth stems from deductions from the treasury without proper legal basis, he will be held accountable to the fullest extent of the law. For now, let's just enjoy the feast."
Colbert bowed in understanding and agreement.
"As for the expenses Fouquet allows himself to indulge in, spending on the ladies he pleases, we can forgive him this slight weakness," Louis added, remembering that he himself had recently taken a mistress, neglecting the fact that he had only recently married Marie-Therese, one of Europe's most noble brides. "Can one blame a man for being subject to the most natural weaknesses, for appreciating the dignity and beauty of worthy ladies who themselves, it seems, would not mind becoming more intimate with him?"
"You are right, Your Majesty, this weakness should be forgiven," Colbert agreed. "Especially since Monsieur Fouquet has excellent taste; he knows how to spot the most beautiful and most worthy lady in any company and give her her due."
" The most beautiful and the most worthy?" the King asked, wary. "What do you mean? The most worthy lady here is undoubtedly the Queen. And also the Princess. Does Fouquet really have the audacity to see them as anything other than objects of respect and admiration?"
"Oh, no, Your Majesty, of course not," replied Colbert. "Monsieur Fouquet never misses an opportunity to assure Her Majesty and Her Highness of his highest consideration, but these expressions of respect do not in the least exceed the standards of common courtesy."
"Then which lady are you talking about when you call her the most beautiful and the most worthy?" the King asked, barely containing the rage that was threatening to burst forth.
"I am speaking of the lady whom you, Your Majesty, have also noted as one of the most worthy ladies at court," Colbert replied softly. "The Duchess de Chevreuse told me of a letter that Monsieur Fouquet wrote to Mademoiselle... Incidentally, Mademoiselle is Her Highness's lady-in-waiting, and I would not like to mention her name in connection with this letter; forgive me, Your Majesty."
"Her Highness's lady-in-waiting, you say?" cried the King. "Is it not true that Fouquet was making advances towards Mademoiselle?"
The king stopped short, as a terrible thought made him break out in a cold sweat.
"Mademoiselle was very annoyed to receive this letter, and even insulted," replied Colbert. "She was about to complain immediately to Your Majesty, but then decided to consult with her tutor and good friend, the Duchess de Chevreuse, who, as mistress of Tours, has known Mademoiselle, one might say, since childhood, since Mademoiselle is from Blois."
"Mademoiselle comes from Blois!" exclaimed the King. "You speak of Mademoiselle de La Valli;re! Tell me then, what is this letter, and how do you know of it?"
"Mademoiselle wanted to consult with the Duchess, but she wasn't there," Colbert replied. "But today she met her and told her everything. Since the Duchess and I are planning to become related—as you know, my daughter is going to marry her grandson—we meet from time to time to discuss the wedding date and other necessary details. The matter is so delicate that the Duchess decided to consult with me. I took this letter from her to show it to Your Majesty."
"Give it to me!" Louis said sharply, having no doubt that Colbert had the letter with him and was ready for immediate production upon demand.
Colbert pulled a folded letter from his sleeve cuff, bowed and handed it to the King, and delicately stepped aside.
This was that very letter, I will remind you of its contents.

"Madam!
Being closely acquainted with your parents, Monsieur Laurent de La Baume-le-Blanc and Madame Fran;oise de Pr;vost, and being a great friend of your relative, the Duchess de Saint-R;my, I offer you my patronage. I understand how difficult it must be for you to be alone in Paris, without parents or brothers or sisters. Knowing the state of your family, I believe they cannot provide you with substantial support, so you, poor thing, must make do with the allowance you receive as a lady-in-waiting to the Princess. I sympathize with this difficult financial situation, which such a worthy young lady as you should never find yourself in, and I am ready to make every effort to remedy this misfortune. You may know that I am not constrained by means and offer you the necessary sums for your needs without the slightest embarrassment. In return, I ask nothing more than kindness for an old friend of your esteemed parents. Perhaps you would like to chat with me from time to time about this and that, to tell me how you are getting on at court, and that would be enough for me. Spending all my time on business and worries, I sometimes have no opportunity to learn the latest news at court, so you would oblige me greatly if you would occasionally inform me of the news you learn without even the slightest effort. For me, this would be a breath of fresh air, a refreshing sip of pure spring water amid the routine tasks that I am condemned to perform due to my dull but responsible duties. If you agree to such conversations, I will be happy to consider a treaty of friendship concluded between us, and I will in no way demand the return of any sums you deign to spend on your immediate needs, considering them a gift for the daughter of my old friends.
Sincerely yours, Nicolas Fouquet."

"He's offering her to spy on me for a bribe!" the King whispered so loudly that Colbert heard every word. "Why didn't she tell me about it right away?" Louis added, speaking more to himself than to Colbert, who was standing next to him.
"Your Majesty, complaining to you was her first thought," replied Colbert. "But she decided that the lack of a reply to this letter would bring Monsieur Fouquet to his senses, and besides, as I have already said, she decided to consult Madame de Chevreuse, a friend of Her Majesty the Queen Mother, who, of course, would advise her not to do anything bad, since she herself had offered to be her tutor and take the place of her mother."
“The Duchess is very sweet,” the King said thoughtfully, and even a courtier like Colbert could not understand whether this was bitter irony or a sincere recognition of the Duchess’s merits.
At this moment an event occurred which even such a clever courtier as Colbert could not have arranged, but which completed the blow.
Mademoiselle de La Valli;re ran up to the balcony from which the King and Colbert were admiring the fireworks. She was in tears.
“Leave us, Monsieur Colbert,” said Louis, and Colbert immediately disappeared.
"You're in tears, Louise!" the King exclaimed after they were alone. "Who dared to offend you?"
" Oh, my King!" Louise cried. "I am being pursued! Madame du Plessis-Belli;re has just tried to offer me twenty thousand ;cus as a gift!"
"Madame du Plessis-Belli;re?" the King asked, alarmed, knowing full well that Madame was Fouquet's mistress.
"She hinted that this was a gift from Monsieur Fouquet, who hopes to make me his spy!" Louise exclaimed. "That's too much! He first wrote me a letter that could be interpreted in two ways, so I didn't immediately complain to Your Majesty, but this offer is as unambiguous as it is insulting! I beg Your Majesty to protect me, to defend my good name, my honor! Just because I come from the provinces doesn't mean I can be bought!"
"Calm down, dear Louise!" the King exclaimed, kissing her hands and then pressing them to his chest. "No one in my kingdom will dare insult you in any way. Monsieur Fouquet is not worth a single tear on your lovely face! He will be severely punished! I promise you that!"
At this, such anger was reflected on the King’s face that Louise became frightened.
"Oh, my King, I beg you, just don't be too cruel!" she cried.
"Do you feel sorry for him?" asked Louis, jealousy beginning to boil in his soul.
"Not at all, Your Majesty!" Louise replied. "I pity only your pure soul, which I love more than life itself! It is not proper to take revenge on someone who is completely dependent on you; it is enough to simply place him in the place he deserves, and not allow him to even think of striving for anything more, of which he is not worthy. Cruelty to him would be a stain on your pure soul, my King! Promise me, in the name of our love, that you will wait at least ten days before you decide to do anything against him, and until then, simply spare me the displeasure of seeing him, that's all!"
"Oh, what a pure soul!" exclaimed the King. "But why ten days?"
"Because initial anger is rarely a good advisor, especially for those who have an entire kingdom under their control," Louise said. "In ten days, you will be able to view this matter impartially, as only a King, who is master of every point of his Kingdom, should view any matter. You will punish him as you see fit, but not until your just anger has subsided."
“I promise you this, my dear Louise,” replied Louis. “But did you really say that you are indifferent to him?”
"I've already said it, and I'll say it a thousand times more," Louise replied. "But if my King doesn't believe my words, let me go to the monastery, where I'll pray for you and for the salvation of my lost soul."
"No, that won't happen!" the King exclaimed. "I believe you, Louise, forgive me for asking you that question. I promise not to pursue Fouquet for another ten days, since you asked me to. For now, forget about him, and let's talk only about you."

Chapter 248

"Dear Duchess, thank you for your help," Colbert said to the Duchess de Chevreuse that same evening. "This letter has done its job."
"Don't flatter yourself, dear Minister!" the Duchess retorted. "If the enemy falters, don't rush to triumph. See that he is defeated, and his fall must be so swift and irrevocable that he cannot rise again."
"The King's feelings have been hurt!" replied Colbert. "Fouquet will have to pay the highest price for this."
"Yes, provided that this feeling does not change, and also provided that the very cause of this anger does not intercede for him," the Duchess replied. "And besides, it is currently extremely difficult even for the King to overthrow Fouquet, since Fouquet essentially holds the entire kingdom in his hands!"
"You are right, Duchess, and that is precisely why we have decided to overthrow him, since there is no way to reach an agreement with him," Colbert agreed. "But what other blow can I inflict on him?"
"You've given the King a reason to hate him, but that's only half the battle," the Duchess replied. "Now he also needs a pretext for revenge. Surely he can't arrest the Superintendent of Finances just because he had an eye on one of the Princess's maids of honor? That can't justify his persecution. The King must be given a compelling reason to arrest Fouquet, and, moreover, be provided with the necessary means to arrest him without causing unrest, as happened after the arrest of the Brussels councilor."
"Let's start with the pretext," Colbert said. "Isn't unjustified and illegal enrichment through abuse of office sufficient grounds for arrest and subsequent investigation?"
"All that is true, but all these minor offenses are not enough to execute Fouquet, or even to imprison him in the Bastille for life," the Duchess countered. "He will be charged, the judges will acquit him, or sentence him to a fine, which he will easily pay. Even if he is deprived of his position, he will rise again."
"But the fine might be so high that he simply won't have the necessary funds!" Colbert exclaimed.
"He has too many friends, supporters, and simply people he helped, even if only by not interfering with the embezzlement of the royal treasury!" the Duchess objected. "No, we must strike for sure, so he can't get up! That will help you!"
With these words, the Duchess took a letter from a small bag and showed it to Colbert, who immediately recognized the Cardinal's handwriting.
"What is this?" he exclaimed with admiration. "Is this really Fouquet's outstanding loan?"
"Better," the Duchess replied. "This is the cover letter Cardinal Mazarin used to send Fouquet a very significant sum. This sum was not processed in any transactions. Fouquet will not be able to account for it, whereas His Majesty has every right to demand an accounting from him."
"How much money are we talking about?" Colbert asked, trembling with joy.
“Read it yourself,” the Duchess said ironically, handing the letter to Colbert.
"Impossible!" exclaimed Colbert, running his eyes over the letter. "Thirteen million livres! That's the price of Vaux-le-Vicomte! Where did you get this letter?"
"Is it really so necessary for you to know this?" the Duchess asked with a smile.
"It doesn't matter at all, you're right, Duchess," Colbert agreed. "Why did you keep quiet about this paper before? It's priceless! Thirteen million livres!"
“I meant to use this paper for its intended purpose when it was appropriate, and now that time has come,” replied the Duchess.
She didn't tell Colbert that she'd tried to extort at least half a million livres from Fouquet through me for that letter. Had she known that Mazarin had first given Fouquet the money with that letter and then withdrawn it for the army's needs without leaving Fouquet a receipt, she would have demanded at least half the sum for the letter, and Fouquet should have accepted that offer! But even if he had, he could hardly have raised that amount now, when his affairs were completely in tatters. And even that wouldn't have saved him. After all the mistakes he'd made, one after another, as if he were carrying out a cunning plan for his own suicide, only one thing could have saved him—what I had planned: replacing the King with his twin brother.
"The only question left to discuss is who or what will help the King arrest Fouquet," the Duchess continued. "And I will give you the answer to that question. It is d'Artagnan."
"D'Artagnan?" Colbert snorted contemptuously. "That upstart who always hangs around the King?"
“His office obliges him to do so,” the Duchess retorted. “But if the King orders him to depart for any corner of France, or even abroad, to any corner of the world, he will obey without a murmur, and will carry out even what any reasonable courtier would consider impossible. Indeed, many, many would try to shirk such a mission, the reward for which might be insufficient to justify the risk and expense. D’Artagnan never takes such considerations into account. If his sovereign commands him, the command will be carried out. At first, he served only King Louis XIII and even more so Queen Anne, obeying only de Tr;ville. Then he chose Mazarin as his sovereign, whom he served faithfully not only in his moments of exaltation, but also in his most pitiable state. Such loyalty is rare, very rare, almost never met. Now, however, he serves the King.”
"Hmm-hmm, I don't know," Colbert said doubtfully. "He doesn't strike me as anything special. Just a regular soldier."
" In the time of Louis XIII, only one man could have arrested Cardinal Richelieu, had the King so willed it," said the Duchess. "That man was de Treville. The Cardinal knew this and did everything in his power to eliminate de Treville. Toward the end of his life, he succeeded in having him resign, but as soon as the Cardinal was gone, the King reinstated de Treville. Now, the Superintendent should have made a strong friendship with Monsieur d'Artagnan before he entered the King's service. Even so, he should have been wary that the King would summon d'Artagnan to his service and order him to arrest Fouquet." I won't venture to predict Fouquet's chances, but since he missed the opportunity and failed to become one of Monsieur d'Artagnan's friends, the captain of the Musketeers will do what generals, marshals, and princes wouldn't dare. He will sweep Monsieur Fouquet off the board like a chess piece. He will arrest Fouquet even if the entire French nobility intercedes for him.
"Is he really so strong as to stand up to the entire nobility?" Colbert objected, curling his lip.
“You are completely wrong to underestimate this man,” the Duchess retorted. “I have known him for… No matter how many years, but believe me, it has been quite some time. For some time now, that is, since the very time Richelieu turned against me, I have made it my profession to know everything that happens in France, and beyond. Well, I know what I am talking about. Even his best friends do not know everything about him that I do, and they do not know what cunning schemes he has carried out on the orders of his sovereign, or even on his own initiative. He, of course, will not fight all of Fouquet’s supporters in order to arrest him. He will wait for the right opportunity and have Fouquet transferred to the Bastille before anyone has time to understand what has actually happened. Why, he could even arrest the Pope if His Majesty ordered him to do so.”
"Well, if everything is as you say, Duchess, then I am grateful for your advice," Colbert replied. "I will advise His Majesty who can handle this task."
"His Majesty knows it himself, don't worry," the Duchess replied. "But just in case he forgets, just remind him that he has d'Artagnan. And Fouquet will be arrested safely and discreetly."
"I believe you, Duchess!" said Colbert, kissing the Duchess's hand.
"You'd be surprised!" thought the Duchess. "What kind of people are they? They need to be taught everything!"
"I know perfectly well what d'Artagnan is capable of, you old fox!" thought Colbert. "After all, I've worked so hard to prevent this man from rising to the heights he's capable of! Using him against Fouquet is an excellent idea, but how can I rein him in afterwards? He already exerts considerable influence over the King! And if, through his efforts, the King gets rid of Fouquet, who has become a burden, an obstacle, and even, who knows, perhaps a dangerous rival, what if the King becomes overwhelmed with gratitude toward the damned Gascon and draws him so close that he begins to outshine me? However, monarchs are rarely subject to strong bouts of gratitude. Gratitude is not their sin! Let's hope the King forgets this service as quickly as they all forget all the good deeds others perform for them, considering self-sacrifice for their person the natural order of things."

Chapter 249

“Mother,” said Louis XIV , entering the Queen Mother’s boudoir, “although I must not coordinate my decisions with you, there is one matter of which I must warn you.”
“My son, you are truly the sovereign King in your kingdom, and I am only one of your subjects, but as your mother I am grateful to you for the attention you show me, and also for the high honor of remaining your good adviser,” answered the Queen, who in her soul was already expecting a new trick from the royal son.
“You know how I honor the memory of the cardinal, and how I respected him during his life and listened to his advice with the greatest attention, and always followed it, of course, consciously, and recognizing their correctness,” Louis began.
“The Cardinal was a great man and a great friend of our family, Your Majesty, and I am grateful to you for the kind words I have just had the good fortune to hear from you,” the Queen agreed, wondering where this conversation was heading.
“The deepest respect for the memory of the cardinal was reflected in my attitude towards his faithful servants, or even, perhaps, friends,” the King continued.
"Ah, so that's it!" thought the Queen. "He wants to displace one of the Cardinal's prot;g;s! What does all this have to do with me? I wonder who they're talking about? I must help him."
"Serving the First Minister was merely a form of service to duty and the Fatherland," the Queen replied. "Even the most impeccable service in the past provides no guarantee against censure for subsequent mistakes or even punishment for treason. If you wish to warn me in advance of the resignation of someone who in the past was blessed with the friendship or even the attention of Mazarin, I care nothing!"
"I'm glad, Mother, that you see this matter so sensibly," Louis replied with obvious relief. "In that case, I won't bother you any longer or distract you from your affairs."
"Wait!" exclaimed the Queen, intrigued by the thought of which of Mazarin's former comrades was facing dismissal. "Who exactly are we talking about?"
"What difference does it make, since you've already told me your opinion on the matter?" the King replied, shrugging his shoulders and clearly demonstrating his firm intention to end the conversation there. "If you really want to know…"
" Not at all!" the Queen quickly replied. "What does all this matter to me? Your kingdom is yours, you are its absolute master, and if your intentions are a secret…"
"Why a secret?" Louis objected. "We're only talking about Fouquet."
"Just Fouquet?" the Queen exclaimed, forgetting herself and therefore unable to contain her surprise. "Of a man like Fouquet, you say 'just Fouquet'? But who will replace him, may I ask? Where will you get the money for state needs, and most importantly, how?"
"I will find someone to replace him, Mother," the King replied calmly. "I already have, and I have almost completely replaced him. However, you don't seem to like my decision?"
"Monsieur Fouquet has always managed to raise the necessary sums where no one else would," the Queen replied, shrugging. "He is so well versed in financial matters that you will probably have a hard time finding a suitable replacement for him. And besides, he is also the Attorney General!"
"Not anymore, Mother!" the King replied. "Someone else has become Attorney General. And as for his indispensability, you don't really think Fouquet has the gift of King Midas, do you?"
"I almost thought of that comparison, for everything Fouquet touches really does turn to gold," the Queen replied. "Maybe not literally, but he knows how to extract money from everything, and it is this money that fills the treasury."
"What if I found out that Fouquet was robbing me?" asked the King.
"Robbing you?" the Queen asked. "Do you really believe all those pamphlets that street urchins write? Anyone in the highest echelons of power has envious people who constantly invent slanders and gossip about them. Just remember the Fronde! The Parisian slanderers spared no one in their poisonous poems and songs!"
"I remember it very well, mother, and therefore I do not attach any importance to this gossip," replied the King, feeling annoyed at the reminder of the Fronde. "But I suppose you will not blame me for trusting the letters of our late friend and benefactor, Cardinal Mazarin?"
“What is it?” asked the Queen. “What letters are you talking about?”
"Here are these letters," Louis replied, handing his mother six of the cardinal's letters. "I believe you know the cardinal's handwriting and his style of writing very well. Read these, but please do not tear them."
“I will never tear up the Cardinal’s letters,” replied the Queen.
She carefully took the six letters from the King's hands and began to read them. Louis thought he saw tears welling up in the corners of the Queen's eyes. It was clear she was experiencing strong emotions as she read these previously unknown letters from a loved one.
"If Fouquet cannot account for these sums, then he has robbed you, my son," she said finally. "In that case, you have the right to demand an accounting from him, and if he does not provide one, the matter should be referred to the court of justice or something similar."
“You see, mother, that I am not at all picky about my faithful servants, but only want to restore order in my state,” the King replied.
“Good,” replied the Queen.
She held one of the open letters up to her face and caught the scent of the Cologne water Mazarin used most often. She closed her eyes for a moment, imagining the cardinal standing right next to her, in this room.
“When the trial is over, I will return these letters to you, mother,” the King said tenderly.
"Thank you, my son," the Queen replied. "I implore you to be firm but fair, strong but magnanimous. Remember that Fouquet is not merely the Cardinal's former friend and servant, but also a man who rendered us great services at a time when we had no one to rely on. Or almost no one."
"I remember that, Mother, but I also remember that Cardinal Mazarin was truly a great man, so that if Fouquet had not been found, he would have found another, a third, a fourth, at least a dozen more people who could have replaced him," the King replied. "And in my search for the truth, I will rely on the Cardinal's other friends, who are better because they have not tainted themselves by failing to justify the Cardinal's trust."
“I thank you for this and I hope that you will not be disappointed in your decision,” the Queen replied.
"Mother, I ask you to keep this conversation secret," Louis continued. "If Fouquet finds out I'm investigating his crimes and intending to arrest him, it will be more difficult for me to do so."
"Of course, my son!" the Queen replied. "I will not tell anyone about this conversation, rest assured. As for arresting this man, you can make use of that brilliant officer who carried out all the Cardinal's orders in such a way that His Eminence never had any complaints about the execution of his orders, even his secret ones. I am speaking of Captain d'Artagnan of the King's Musketeers."
"Thank you for your advice, Mother," the King replied. "I have already chosen him for this mission, and your recommendation only confirms the correctness of my choice."
"You chose it yourself?" the Queen asked. "Without anyone's advice?"
“All by myself, for I know this man very well,” answered the King, slightly embarrassed.
"I think I know the people who advised you to check the Superintendent of Finance's accounts," the Queen said thoughtfully. "And, by the way, I understand where these letters came from."
“What is it?” asked the King. “What are you talking about, Your Majesty?”
"I'm speaking of the Duchess de Chevreuse," the Queen replied. "But how could I not have guessed it myself! After all, she's planning to marry her grandson to Colbert's daughter. Naturally, she's joined his party. Beware, my son. You'll drive one snake out of the Eden you inhabit, but you'll let another in!"
“Mother, you are too strict with Colbert and the Duchess,” replied the King.
"In any case, I have warned you, my son," the Queen replied. "Don't let Colbert and the Duchess de Chevreuse completely take over your trust. Have some kind of counterweight to them."
"It seems d'Artagnan is not part of the party of these schemers?" asked the King.
"D'Artagnan is not a politician, but a warrior," the Queen countered. "Who will handle political affairs after Fouquet's elimination? I hope it's not Chevreuse or Colbert?"
"Don't worry, Mother," the King replied. "As I've already said, I will handle political affairs myself from now on. And no one will replace me in all of France. No one. Never, as long as I live!"
He was wrong. After all, he knew nothing about Philip!
"When will this old reptile finally crawl away from court and hide in her hole in Tours?" thought the Queen. "Will I live to see the days when the Duchess de Chevreuse is spoken of only in the past tense? Hardly!"
"She won't keep our conversation a secret for long," thought the King. "She still sympathizes with Fouquet. We must eliminate any possibility of her warning him or any of his friends. Who can stop her? Only d'Artagnan! She will simply disobey everyone else, and they won't have the courage to stop her. I will order him to guard the Queen. I will tell him that an assassination attempt is being prepared, and he is to allow no one near her except her maids. And I will forbid the maids from leaving the Queen's chambers. At least until Fouquet is arrested."

Chapter 250

After Philippe's abduction from the Bastille, I had to ensure that Philippe was prepared to accept my plan to reclaim the inalienable right of every man who had committed no crime—the right to live freely, to love, and to be loved. At the same time, I offered him his birthright: the Crown of France and the right to rule over his subjects. From the most dispossessed man in the kingdom, he was to be transformed in a single step into its most powerful citizen, its master and sovereign. I had to be sure that young Philippe had not only the strength but also the determination, not only the enthusiasm but also the patience, the willingness to endure the many inconveniences that come with having to impersonate someone else. Was he capable of all this? I explained all this to him once again, and I was convinced that he was determined and would not waver from his desire to carry out the plan I had devised.
"Your determination to carry out my plan is far more important than any preparations, no matter how meticulous," I told him. "In any case, if you demonstrate to everyone that you are the King, no one will dare arrest you or even contradict you. If you falter, even in a situation that poses no threat, your indecision could prove fatal. From the moment you take your brother's place, you must resolutely cast aside everything connected with your personality, become him from head to toe, not only be him in appearance, but also learn to think like him. With one important caveat, of course."
“I understand,” Philip replied. “I will have to obey you, Monsignor.”
"Not quite so," I objected. "You will be King, and no one can dictate to a King in his own kingdom. No one, except the Lord. Your brother does not hear the voice of God, and this is his mistake, even a crime, not only before you, but before God. And I, as General of the Order of Jesus, as the Pope's first servant, will convey to you, my Prince, what the Lord deems necessary to communicate to you through me."
"May I ask, Monsignor, how do you know the Lord's wishes?" asked Philip.
"My son, you are not ready for the mission I, a wretched man, was about to impose upon you," I said, pretending my decision was final. "Secular people are not given the ability to understand the ways in which the Lord communicates His will to His servants. The higher a servant of the Lord ranks in the Church hierarchy, the closer he is to the Lord. No true believer will ever doubt that his elders in the faith convey the words of God to him, that they read God's thoughts in the sacred scriptures, not only within the lines but also between the lines, for such is their purpose, such is their path, such is their sole, yet most important, skill on this sinful earth. Without trust in the servants of the Lord, there is no true faith."
"Forgive me, Your Eminence," Philip said hastily. "I showed unnecessary curiosity. It will not happen again. I trust you completely."
“Have you ever asked anyone where the fruits of the earth come from?” I asked Philip. “Do you know how the most varied and most delicate-tasting berries and fruits grow from simple soil, irrigated with moisture and illuminated by the sun? Do you ever ask yourself how the food animals eat turns into their meat and fat, so nourishing for us humans? Do you ever ask how the food we eat turns into our flesh, and what is not good for it turns into waste, which our bodies promptly discard? All of this is arranged by the will of the Lord and His command. We do not know and cannot know how all this happens, but we believe that He arranged it. I expressed myself incorrectly. We do not believe, we know for sure. From whom do we know this, if not from Him Himself? Of course we know. Faith has nothing to do with it. Our faith is that the Lord's servants communicate His will and His word to us. Without this faith, we would not know our Savior. So, I have told you what we know for sure and what we believe. If a priest lies, eternal torment in the fiery Gehenna awaits him at the end of his life. Will he take upon his conscience such a grave sin as distorting the Word of God?
“I understand you, Your Eminence,” said Philip and leaned towards my hand to kiss it.
“If you are King, remember that a King does not kiss a bishop’s hand,” I replied. “The General of the Jesuit Order is above any cardinal, for between him and the Pope there is no one and nothing. But secular customs do not distinguish the General of the Order from ordinary people. That is how it is, and that is how it will always be. Cardinals and bishops are a screen, a stage, masks. The Jesuit Order is the very essence of the Catholic Church, its skeleton and flesh, while the official Church is only skin and vestments. The skin and vestments are visible to everyone, the skeleton and flesh no one sees, but it is the bones and flesh that support the body. We, the Order, are the strength of Catholicism. You will listen to me, but you will not show me any more outward respect than is due to a bishop. If you find this inconvenient, you will write a petition to the Pope asking that I be given the first available cardinal’s hat.” But that can wait. Right now, the most important thing is to complete the journey I've made almost single-handedly for you, and the journey you've made over the past few weeks, reading books and my notes, studying your brother's life, and becoming him. So, I ask you for the last time: how determined are you to go all the way and not give up?
“We are going for the crown of France,” Philip said sharply.
"Is this your decision, Prince?" I asked.
“Yes, and unyielding,” Philip answered.
"You will be a great monarch, Monseigneur!" I said. "From this moment on, I will call you Your Majesty, and very soon all of France will do the same. Will you recognize the people who will surround you, and are you prepared to address them tomorrow as if you had seen them today?"
"You provided me with descriptions of all these faces and beautifully drawn portraits," Philip replied. "I keep these faces and information about those to whom they belong in my memory."
"Excellent, Your Majesty!" I said. "Then you are ready! Let's briefly discuss your closest relatives and friends."
"Firstly, my mother, Queen Anne of Austria; secondly, Monsieur, my younger brother, his wife, Henrietta, who flirts with me, and with whom I have also flirted, but I am tired of her. My wife, Marie-Therese, is not at all bad-looking, but I have already had my fill of her love. At present, I am in love with Mademoiselle de La Valli;re, the Princess's lady-in-waiting, whom I can, if I wish, make a duchess, and with whom I am already meeting almost openly. Then there are the ministers, among whom Superintendent Fouquet is the most influential."
"You should be wary of Mademoiselle de La Valli;re, for lovers have keen eyes; they see their beloved not only with their eyes but also with their hearts," I said. "The best thing would be to gradually feign a cooling of affection towards her and cease this flirtation. If you decide to take a new mistress, she will be with you from the very beginning, so not only will she not expose you, but she will also, without suspecting it, be a witness to the fact that you are the King."
“I will do everything I can to make her mistake me for Louis first, I will find a reason to be offended by La Valli;re, and we will part as soon as possible,” Philippe replied.
"She had a fianc;, the Vicomte de Bragelonne. You could express your jealousy and offer her the choice of returning to him or going to a convent, which, by the way, she herself has an inclination for. What do you propose to do with your ministers?"
“The most influential are Colbert and Fouquet,” Philippe replied.
"Fouquet and Colbert. Fouquet is first, and we want him to remain so. Colbert is a mere shadow," I replied. "Colbert must resign. Fouquet is striving to become first minister. Promise him this, but don't rush into fulfilling your promise."
“You will remain my chief adviser, Your Eminence,” Philip replied.
“Not I, Your Majesty, but the Lord himself, who will speak to you through my lips,” I corrected.
“Exactly so,” Philip agreed, and it seemed to me that he still lacked the fanaticism that he should have put into this answer.
“It’s okay,” I thought. “I’ll be there, and it will be a long time before he’s able to gain the independence to reject my advice and refuse my help.”
"So Colbert will go into exile," I reminded him. "God wants it."
"Colbert is Monsieur Fouquet's mortal enemy, and therefore France's," Philippe replied. "It would be better for him and for France if he went into exile, but not all at once, but gradually, so as not to unnecessarily upset his influential friends. He could even be rewarded with some trivial trinket. Do I understand my task correctly?"
"Exactly!" I replied. "You will be a great monarch, Your Majesty."
“With your help and God’s, I hope,” Philip replied.
“Most of all, Your Majesty, Your Majesty, you should be wary of Monsieur d’Artagnan, the captain of the king’s musketeers,” I said.
“He will be sent to the Bastille,” Philippe said coldly.
"By no means!" I cried. "He is my closest friend, and not a hair must fall from his head, nor from the head of Monsieur the Baron du Valon and Monsieur the Count de La F;re!"
"Yes, you're right!" Philip agreed. "It was in your notes. I'd forgotten. You see! I need you to keep me from making mistakes!"
“Yes, you need me,” I agreed. “As does the Lord’s blessing. What do you know about Monsieur d’Artagnan?”
"He captured General Monk and influenced the restoration of the monarchy in England," Philip replied. "Besides, he served my mother magnificently and even did her some special favor, not without your help, I believe? But if he is your friend, why should I fear him?"
"Some secrets must be hidden even from one's best friend, Your Majesty," I replied. "Sometimes I feel like I'm not being too frank even with myself. D'Artagnan wouldn't support our venture if he learned of it. The concept of friendship doesn't extend to the concept of honor. What you and I consider a godly deed, the captain of the king's musketeers would consider a common crime against the state."
"And in this case he will not spare you in order to return Louis to the throne?" Philip asked.
"He will spare me, but he will not spare my plan," I replied. "And perhaps he will not spare you."
"I believe you, Mr. Bishop, and now I understand why you did not bring your best friend to your side," Philip replied. "Are your other two friends the same as Mr. d'Artagnan?"
This question sent a chill down my spine. I realized that neither Athos nor Porthos would support me in this matter, nor would d'Artagnan. I was alone!
"Well, Monsieur Fouquet would certainly support me!" I said to myself. "After all, I'm saving him! In fact, I'm dragging him out of the Bastille, or even saving him from the Place de Gr;ve."
“Perhaps, when everything settles down, even if d’Artagnan understands what happened, he will come to terms with it, and, most importantly, he will no longer be able to do anything,” I said.
"Are you going to kill Louis?" Philip asked.
I looked closely into Philip's eyes and did not see that this thought frightened him much, or perhaps he was skillfully hiding his feelings.
"By no means, Your Majesty," I replied. "The life of a person of royal blood is sacred. But he deserved what he did to you, even if not himself. His freedom is not sacred; he will lose it. And he will be placed there, from which not even ten d'Artagnans could extract him."
Damn me if I knew of a place from which even d'Artagnan alone couldn't extract it, but now was not the time to share these thoughts with Philippe.
“I trust you completely in this matter, Mr. General of the Order,” said Philip.
"In this matter, first and foremost, but in other matters as well, I hope," I agreed. "But don't call me General of the Order. Simply Monsignor, or Mr. Bishop, will suffice."
"Should I listen to Monsieur Fouquet's advice in your absence?" asked Philippe.
"Absolutely not, Your Majesty," I replied. "He's Superintendent of Finance, that's his pinnacle, so let him remain in that position, though he's certainly aiming higher."
"How much higher could he possibly go? Is he really aiming for the Kingship too?" Philip asked in surprise.
"Who knows, Your Majesty?" I replied. "Doesn't his motto, 'Wherever I climb!', speak for itself?"
"But the position of King isn't the highest under the sun. I wouldn't say the Pope is more important, but to a certain extent..."
"There are people, Your Majesty, who plan to become Pope even without being cardinals at the present time," I said. "But we will not discuss this topic now."
— Good! So, Monsieur Fouquet, the Superintendent of Finance... But isn't he the First Minister?
— No. The position of First Minister is currently vacant.
“Such an inexperienced King as I will be will, of course, need a first minister,” Philip suggested.
"It's not the job title that matters, but the person's true position. A job title puts a person on public display, whereas a true friend, mentor, and advisor may be invisible to outsiders, and that gives them certain advantages, don't you think? Will Your Majesty need a true friend?"
"You are my only and true friend; I need no others. If I spoke of a position, it was only for routine matters," Philip replied.
"The King has no routine tasks, just as the Prime Minister has none. There are only tasks he can delegate to others in extreme cases, and there are tasks that must be done personally, and there are many more of these."
“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 don't think you'll find anyone as devoted as me among them."
"You are quite enough. So, you will be my first minister, d'Herblay."
"That would be fine, but it would put d'Artagnan on his guard," I replied. "He's always eager to uncover any secret, and if he gets his hands on it..." Besides, even at court, such a meteoric rise for a little-known bishop would generate unnecessary gossip and suspicion.
“Richelieu was also a bishop,” Philip reminded.
“Richelieu was a cardinal,” I reminded him.
“Then I must first make you a cardinal,” said Philip.
"Perhaps it would indeed be far better to adhere to the time-tested sequence," I replied. "If I become first minister only after you make me a cardinal."
"In two months, the cardinal's hat will be yours," Philippe replied decisively. "A week after that, you will be First Minister, and I hope you have something else you forgot to ask for or have put off until a more convenient time. It would be better if you asked for it now, since it will be more reassuring for both of us. You will not offend me if you ask for more, but if you limit yourself to what has already been said, you will greatly disappoint me."
“We will help each other rise, Your Majesty,” I replied.
The young man suddenly raised his head and looked straight at his interlocutor.
“So you are laying claim to the throne of St. Peter,” he said, and I shuddered at the thought of how insightful this young man, accustomed to thinking alone, turned out to be.
“Perhaps I didn’t express myself quite clearly,” I objected, but it seemed that Philip detected the falseness in my voice.
"It couldn't be clearer, and that suits me perfectly, Bishop . Why not? I know no one more worthy of this throne than you, and therefore nothing will stop me from making every effort to achieve this. But will the efforts of the King of France be enough?"
"Today's France may not be enough, but the France you and I, Your Majesty, will create tomorrow will be enough," I replied. "Believe me, that future France will easily resolve this issue. And since France is you, Your Majesty, I believe my chances are quite good."
“That is true, Lord Bishop,” Philip agreed.
I felt this conversation had become too pleasant for me. And I'm wary of pleasant conversations unless they're with ladies. Pleasant conversations flatter one's ego, and the bitterness of disappointment will be all the greater if the plans discussed don't come to fruition. Besides, during pleasant conversations, people let down their guard, and this wasn't the time for me to indulge in such a luxury.
"So, we are already approaching Vaux-le-Vicomte, where Louis, your brother, is spending the night," I said. "It is not too late to turn the carriage around, but in five minutes retreat will be impossible."
"Then let these five minutes fly by!" Philip exclaimed.

Chapter 251

All that remained was to carry out my plan: replace the King with his twin brother. Excited by the impending audacity, I suddenly recalled yesterday's conversation with d'Artagnan, and a chill ran down my spine. And then, for a second, it seemed to me that perhaps I had said something unnecessary, and he might have guessed my plan. I decided to recall the entire conversation again, word for word.
I was then in the room Fouquet had provided me, pondering all my actions for the upcoming event. Suddenly, I was informed that d'Artagnan wished to visit me. My friend, who usually burst in at any time of day or night without being announced, so that even the cunning Bazin had no time to warn me of this visit, had for some reason decided to announce himself through the local secretary, with whom the hospitable Fouquet had provided me! Unusual! Well, I attributed this unusualness to my friend's decision to show respect for my rank as Bishop of Vannes.
After friendly handshakes that turned into hugs and small talk, we both felt that the time had come for a serious conversation with my guest, and I, too, was interested in getting rid of him as quickly as possible in light of my upcoming business, so there was no point in delaying it any longer.
“So we meet in this magnificent palace at Vaux-le-Vicomte,” said d’Artagnan, maintaining a casual tone.
"What do you think of this place, d'Artagnan? Do you like it here? " I asked, trying to guess what was on his mind.
"Incomparable!" exclaimed d'Artagnan. "I'm not accustomed to such luxury, unlike you, Aramis."
"He's hinting at big money," I thought. "That Fouquet has appropriated part of the treasury."
"You flatter me, d'Artagnan!" I retorted. "I'm just a humble abbot, or a musketeer—choose which you prefer; I still haven't decided. But both of those men are humble in me, just like you, d'Artagnan. Such luxury is rare in my life, or rather, never encountered before."
"I must refute his insinuation that I am constantly surrounded by luxury," I thought. "One should never argue with him too decisively, but it is always useful to give oneself an avenue of retreat."
"So be it!" d'Artagnan agreed. "We've had to sleep both in the open and in trenches, how can we forget that? But Monsieur Fouquet is truly a remarkable man! Such a luxurious chateau eclipses even a royal palace. How did he manage to build it so quickly and furnish it so magnificently? A hundred architects must have worked here?"
"Why did he suddenly switch to the technical side of this construction?" I wondered. "He's mentally combining the costs and timeframes for the fortress at Belle-Isle with the Ch;teau de Vaux-le-Vicomte! This is a dangerous line of thought! I need to distract him, although this sly fellow isn't so easily swayed from his chosen course! I'll try, though, to play along with him a little!"
"My dear d'Artagnan, I've already told you that I'm not strong in mathematics," I replied. "For me, a hundred or several dozen are the same thing."
"He's a charming man, isn't he, this Fouquet?" continued d'Artagnan.
"Charming, that's right!" I agreed.
"Extremely so. They say the King was cold to him at first, but has softened over time," d'Artagnan continued.
"Really?" I asked, wary. "I didn't notice! It's unlikely a lavish celebration could have such a sudden and powerful effect on the King. On the contrary, it seemed to me that the King was furious, and that this fury was directed at Fouquet. If he spoke especially kindly to Fouquet, that could be a very bad sign! Just remember how kindly Charles IX spoke to Admiral Coligny on the eve of St. Bartholomew's Day! Or how kind Louis XIII was to Chalais or Cinq-Mars!"
“Anyone who gets to know Monsieur Fouquet better begins to treat him better,” I said.
"You, Aramis, know him better than anyone, for you are one of his closest friends!" continued d'Artagnan. "I wish I had such friends!"
"Of course he wants to find out what our friendship is based on!" I thought. "He certainly understands my interest in Fouquet, since he helped me become a bishop. Besides, everyone sees him as a source of money. He wants to know what Fouquet's interest in me is. Well, after all, we can agree that I helped design the fortifications of Belle-;le. No, that's not enough; he's interested in what benefits Fouquet hopes to derive from me in the future. I suppose I could slip him the idea that Fouquet is interested in my literary talents. After all, he's courting Moli;re, La Fontaine, and other literary figures! Well, of course, he's not winning a bishopric with them. Something better is needed."
"For me, Fouquet is not a friend, or at least not nearly the kind of friend that you, Athos and Porthos, are," I objected. "And he will never be anything more. But if you think Fouquet is my friend, then he is your friend too! After all, they say that the friends of my friends are my friends."
"I've never heard such a saying," d'Artagnan objected. "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 one another?"
“How could it be otherwise?” I exclaimed.
"Let's not talk about us," said d'Artagnan, suddenly deciding to change the subject. "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."
"Here we are approaching a sensitive topic!" I noted. "We need to be on guard!"
"And you?" I asked as gently as possible. "Which of these two would you rather call your friend?"
"Have mercy, Aramis!" d'Artagnan exclaimed with a laugh. "None of them! I don't have any financiers among my friends. A finance commissioner, let alone a superintendent, is too much for a simple Gascon."
"I know for sure that you're on Colbert's side," I noted to myself. "To be precise, on the side of the King, for whom Colbert is a faithful watchdog. But you're wrong to think he won't betray you!"
“Too much for Athos, and too little for the Comte de la F;re,” as our noble Athos used to say, I answered Aramis with a smile.
"That's right!" d'Artagnan rejoiced, recalling the famous phrase with which Athos had refused the open commission to become lieutenant of the King's Musketeers that had been given to all of us. "By the way, do you know where he is now?"
“Probably at home, in Blois, or in Bragelonne,” I answered.
"That's true!" agreed d'Artagnan.
After these words, D'Artagnan stood up, came up to me, took me by both hands, and, looking into my eyes, said:
“Aramis, in the name of our dear Athos, 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?”
These words struck a chord with me. I instantly became serious and replied:
"You could have avoided asking, d'Artagnan, just as I don't ask the same of you. If you need my life for yours, or for any other reason, take it. After all, you would do the same without a second thought! 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 what you are planning at this strange celebration, where the King is caught up in such a whirlwind of entertainment that it seems to me it is all designed to make him forget himself? What do you want to distract him from, and what trap have you prepared for him?"
It was too much! I broke out in a cold sweat, and it seemed impossible not to notice. I tried to feign calm and nonchalance as I answered him.
"What makes you think, my dear d'Artagnan, that I'm plotting against the King?" I asked, looking as nonchalant as possible.
“If you had said with your characteristic humor that you were going to kidnap him, I might still have believed that I was mistaken, but when you try with all your might to pretend that you had no such intention, I am only more convinced of the correctness of my assumptions,” replied d’Artagnan.
"How did he sniff out all this?" I asked, surprised and frightened. "How deeply did he penetrate my secret?"

Chapter 252

"You've probably noticed that I'm paying a lot of attention to the program of the celebration, and especially to what His Majesty will be doing, every minute?" I suggested with a smile that I tried to make condescending. "The thing is, Monsieur Fouquet instructed me to do everything possible to ensure the King's satisfaction. After all, when it comes to being kind to the King, we can't be satisfied with just being good; we must do everything perfectly."
"Aramis, that's true for everyone, but not for me," d'Artagnan said sadly. "You're very good at finding explanations, but in this case they raise more questions than they answer. Since when can Fouquet entrust you with anything? That's just one question out of ten I'd like to ask, but I won't."
"Really, d'Artagnan, where does this mistrust come from?" I retorted, trying to convey something between offense and playful coquetry, but since I'm not a woman, and d'Artagnan isn't a lovesick henpecked husband, this capricious tone didn't work.
"Be honest with me. What are you up to?" d'Artagnan asked again.
“At the moment, Mr. Fouquet and I have only one thing in mind: to please our King,” I answered stubbornly.
- Dear Aramis, whatever your plans, sooner or later I will find out about them.
“So, my dear friend,” I answered with a forced laugh, “it’s still too early.”
"No, dear Aramis. That means it might be too late."
At this, d'Artagnan shook his head sadly.
"Friendship, friendship!" he said. "It's so easily sacrificed for the sake of intrigue! Is it really just one of many fine words for you?"
"Don't talk about our friendship that way," I replied firmly. "It's not one of those things that can be sacrificed to political intrigue or ambition."
"I'm glad to hear you say that, Aramis," d'Artagnan replied, but I didn't hear any joy or relief in his voice. "I hope you mean it from the bottom of your heart."
“Only like that,” I answered, and I think I wasn’t lying, although I’m not completely sure of that.
"Look, Aramis, how outdated this notion has become around us!" d'Artagnan continued. "I hope this hasn't affected our friendship, but my hope is fading before my eyes. You're using Porthos without his knowledge, without letting him in on your plans, aren't you? The poor fellow thinks that building fortifications on Belle-Ile will bring him closer to his duchy. And no one told him that dukes are made only in the beds of dukes, or, even more reliably, in the beds of royalty. That is, only one can become a duke who is conceived by a duke or a king, or perhaps who has become intimate with royalty in that very bed, as is now happening with Mademoiselle de La Valli;re. That's who will be the duchess! However, there is a third path. One must be the brother or husband of such a fortunate woman, but that path is also not for our Porthos. He'll never be a duke, so you're only giving him the happy hope of an illusory and distant happiness, which is as unrealizable as it is distant. You're only giving him false hope and unfounded consolation. Well, perhaps that's for the best.
"You see?" I replied. "Don't forget that giving unrealistic hope is the profession of any priest. So why shouldn't I give hope and comfort to one of my best friends, when I scatter these gifts left and right to anyone who looks at me?"
"I said 'perhaps it's for the best,' but I'm not entirely sure that's the case," d'Artagnan clarified. "I can't be sure of that, since I don't know your plans."
"Oh my God! What other plans?" I exclaimed.
“You are deceiving me, and I, in turn, suspect you of deception,” d’Artagnan said stubbornly.
"Then cast aside your suspicions!" I advised him.
"Then cast aside your secrecy, Aramis!" suggested d'Artagnan.
“She’s not here!” I continued to deny it.
“I would like to believe it,” d’Artagnan answered with a sigh.
"I can only tell you that if I'm not always frank enough with you, it's not my secret, and you won't suffer any harm from it," I tried to reassure my friend. "On the contrary, you'll only benefit from it, and you'll definitely get your share."
"That's what worries me, Aramis!" d'Artagnan said, rather sharply, it seemed to me. "I don't like it when people bet on me in a game I don't know about."
"Even if these bets aren't made with your money?" I chuckled.
"Even so, and even if they are done in my name and for my benefit!" d'Artagnan objected.
At that moment, I recalled something d'Artagnan had said in a fit of anger about ten years earlier: "I detest musketeers masquerading as priests just as much as priests masquerading as musketeers!" It was deeply offensive, and it wasn't said in reference to La Rochefoucauld or anyone else; it was said about me, and to my face. If not for Athos's composure, after those words our swords would have crossed, and for one of us, that day might have been our last. Knowing the speed and dexterity of d'Artagnan's sword, I believe that unfortunate one would have been me.
“We are simply settling our little affairs and solving our little troubles,” I retorted in as conciliatory a tone as I could muster.
"Monsieur Colbert?" asked d'Artagnan. "Is your friend concerned about the excessive attention of the comptroller of the finances?"
"Nothing can be hidden from you, d'Artagnan!" I said with relief, though it seemed I couldn't hide from d'Artagnan the contemptuous smirk that flashed across my face at Colbert, for it wouldn't have been worth undertaking the great undertaking I had decided on against such an insignificant figure. "Monsieur Colbert's attentions have become too intrusive; they're bothering my friend Fouquet."
"Well, well, that probably explains everything, my dear friend!" replied d'Artagnan. "I am extremely glad that there are no misunderstandings left between us!"
"Absolutely none!" I answered with relief.
We shook hands. D'Artagnan looked happy, and I finally felt at peace with him. But I had been too hasty in celebrating my victory in this verbal battle and had calmed down too soon. He leisurely approached the door, as if intending to leave, pretending the conversation was over. Opening the door slightly, as if to leave, he merely peered in to make sure no one was eavesdropping, then carefully closed it and came right up to me.
"This is too petty for you, and for Fouquet," he said so quietly that even a man standing just a meter away wouldn't have heard him. "Colbert! Ugh! Even the Chevalier d'Herblay, as I knew him thirty years ago, wouldn't have worried much about Colbert. This is about someone higher up!"
“Who is above this?” I feigned surprise. “The Chancellor?”
"I said higher, not lower," d'Artagnan clarified. "Aramis, you are plotting against the King. Tell me what your plan is, and then we will discuss it..."
“I’m not doing anything,” I objected categorically.
"We'll discuss how you can get out of this intrigue," d'Artagnan continued. "We'll have to, of course, undo everything, return everything and everyone to their original state."
“My God!” I thought immediately. “Return everyone to a primitive state! Does he really know everything? It can’t be! He’s acting at random, testing me! I won’t give in.”
"Intrigues? Against the King?" I cried out with feigned indignation.
" If it's not intrigue, it's crime," d'Artagnan insisted. "That's even worse. Better to deceive and cheat than to raise a hand against God's anointed."
"Good Lord, my God!" I exclaimed, trying to feign indignation, confusion, and surprise all at once. "Even if that were the case, whose side would you be on, d'Artagnan?"
"On yours, Aramis!" d'Artagnan replied without hesitation.
"So you'd agree to help me?" I asked, afraid to believe my luck.
"Better!" d'Artagnan exclaimed sincerely. "I would have prevented you from destroying yourself; I would have done everything possible and impossible to save you from yourself!"
Cold sweat broke out across me again.
"You're crazy, d'Artagnan!" I cried. "But fortunately, you're mistaken, and nothing of the sort is happening."
“Of the two of us, I am more sane than you,” d’Artagnan insisted stubbornly.
"And you can suspect me of plotting to assassinate the King?" I continued to protest.
"With regard to the King, not only murder is a crime, but also any attempt to restrict his freedom or his actions!" d'Artagnan said harshly.
"I assure you, d'Artagnan, His Majesty is in no danger," I lied blatantly. "I assure you that he will return from Vaux-le-Vicomte to the Louvre as free as he was before his departure."
"And on the castle grounds?" asked d'Artagnan.
"Both within the castle and everywhere within his kingdom," I continued to lie. "The King of France is at home in any castle in France, in any house, or in any palace."
"Or even in a fortress?" d'Artagnan asked coldly. "In the Bastille, for example?"
I remembered that d'Artagnan had been informed of my two trips to the Bastille to meet Besmo, and the horror of exposure took possession of me.
“And in the fortress – like nowhere else,” I answered, going straight ahead, and I hope that not a single muscle of my face twitched.
"You're right, Aramis. I'm simply too tired from the move. Let's forget this conversation," d'Artagnan said in a conciliatory tone and hugged me again.
“Of course, my friend!” I replied. “Rest! You need rest.”
"If there's a man in the world who isn't affected by fatigue, it's d'Artagnan," I thought. "Over thirty years of service have taught him to rest only when his duties allow it, which is almost never."
"I'll take you to Porthos, since you seem to miss him too," I said, hoping to finally end this unpleasant conversation, which had been more difficult for me than an interrogation, even though it had been conducted in a friendly tone.
"Does he have a separate room?" d'Artagnan asked in surprise. "And is it far from yours?"
“If Porthos 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 live in the same room, or in adjoining rooms,” I replied. “But you understand.”
"I understand!" d'Artagnan laughed with the most carefree air.
"I hope Porthos doesn't let it slip that I personally oversaw the construction of the royal bedroom!" I thought. "But that's pointless! It seems Porthos doesn't know about it, and doesn't pay attention to such details. Everything will be alright!"
Now, recalling that conversation, I thought every word d'Artagnan uttered was not without reason. After all, he had warned me quite unequivocally against attempting to assassinate the King and declared that any attempt to restrict the King's freedom or actions was a state crime!

Chapter 253

So, on the night the King was to spend at Vaux-le-Vicomte, I had my only chance to kidnap the King and replace him with Philippe. Another such opportunity might never present itself, or it might come too late. In fact, even a delay of a few days could have completely ruined Fouquet, and without Fouquet, it would have been much more difficult for me to carry out my plan, although I must admit that the possibility remained, since I still held the power of General of the Order. Perhaps the fortunate confluence of circumstances, as I then thought, combined with the extreme tension of the moment for Fouquet, pushed me to take this step earlier than I should have? Perhaps so. And yet, I decided to take the risk. After all, I had specially constructed Louis's bedroom for this undertaking! How could I retreat when everything was going so splendidly? It seemed to me that the Lord Himself, through this confluence of circumstances, was indicating to me the correctness of my chosen path, and to ensure that I would not hesitate, He aggravated the situation according to His divine plan. Indeed, the lack of choice gives us courage in actions we might perhaps retreat from, given the choice or time for further deliberation. But this is not the case. I would not have retreated from this matter, because I was convinced of its necessity. Besides, what, if not God's design, could explain the appearance of a twin brother to the King of France? If everything in this world happens according to God's design, then surely it was not without reason that He created this twin and made him indistinguishable? It was not without reason that He endowed him with an excellent memory, prudence, an indomitable will, and a desire to reclaim the position stolen from him in the most treacherous manner, depriving him not only of his legal rights, but also of his freedom and family! How could it be possible that the King's legitimate offspring, with his parents still alive, would not know his mother's affection, his father's approval, would not know his kin, would not live in the palace where he had every right to spend his childhood, youth, adolescence, and old age? Only if God had known that these trials were meant to prepare him for a better destiny , and that only through them would he be able to truly appreciate the change in his life that was bound to occur, would He have realized this plan. So, I was right, and I am convinced of it even now, as I write these lines!
I won't describe in detail how I pulled this off. There was nothing beautiful, nothing interesting, nothing heroic or special about my actions. I convinced Porthos that we should remove the impostor from the King's bed, which he had illegally occupied. I explained to him that he was some distant relative of the royal family, a madman, hidden from prying eyes, but nevertheless inviolable because he bore the blood of Henry IV .
"His Majesty would like to avoid making a fuss and asks us both to take this cousin of his far away so that the King can resume his bed," I said to Porthos. "You, my friend, will have the opportunity to see the King in person and be honored by his nod of gratitude. If this doesn't immediately lead to the title of Duke, it will be a significant step in that direction."
Convincing Porthos of the truth of my words was not difficult. I explained to him that the King had requested that the impostor be masked so that neither Porthos nor I could see his face, as His Majesty hoped that his cousin could be cured of the fit of madness that had led him to the king's bed, after which perhaps he would be pardoned and admitted to court—but for now, this was a secret from everyone. So his face must remain masked.
"Even I won't look at his face while I put the mask on him," I said to Porthos. "I'll do it by touch."
"Won't he wake up?" Porthos asked.
"No, rest assured, the King ordered a medicine mixed into his evening tea for this unfortunate man, and it has a strong soporific effect," I replied. "However, if he wakes up, then you, Porthos, will not allow him to break free and run through the castle of the kind Monsieur Fouquet, screaming and preventing the sleep of all the Superintendent's esteemed guests?"
"I'll squeeze him so hard he won't even squeak!" Porthos replied.
"That's good, but don't strangle him," I said. "I hope you don't mind that the King's cousin's voice sounds a bit like the King himself? That happens between close relatives."
"Yes, such things do happen," agreed Porthos. "Once, when I was a child, I decided to try to scream loud enough to shatter a glass decanter. I took the decanter, went out into the garden, set it on the table, and screamed. My poor mother ran out of the house in terror. She thought my little brother had fallen and hurt himself. When she saw me, she only said, 'Ah, it's you, Isaac! Please, keep your voice down, you scared me.' And that was the end of it."
"A most instructive story," I agreed. "So be careful not to let the royal cousin's voice disturb you. If he wakes up and starts screaming, simply cover his mouth and nose with your hand until we get him to the carriage, and then we'll gag him. I wouldn't want to do that in the bedroom, because I hope we'll be careful not to wake him."
Everything went like clockwork. Porthos and I entered the King's bedroom through the secret door. I placed a mask on the sleeping Louis, and we carried him out while he continued to slumber soundly. Philippe followed us, impersonating the King and waving hello to Porthos. Our kindly giant was so moved that he almost dropped the real King, only to kneel before the false one, but I noticed his movement in time and warned him with a nudge and gestures. Porthos caught himself and, fortunately, didn't have time to drop the sleepy His Majesty. We carried Louis out into the garden where my carriage was parked, laid him on a soft sofa inside the carriage, and I ordered Porthos to go and lock the doors and check if any strangers had seen us.
"What should I do if I discover that someone has been following us?" Porthos asked.
"Grab him in your arms and carry him to your bedroom, tie him up and come back to me," I replied. "If he resists, kill him."
"I'll grab him in my arms, no matter how much he resists," Porthos replied calmly. "I'll only need my sword if there are three or more of them."
“All the better, come back quickly, I’m waiting,” I replied, getting into the carriage.
Soon Porthos returned, and I told the coachman to start.
You've probably guessed that I had Bazin as my coachman. Who else could I entrust with such an important and secret mission as transporting me and the captive King to the Bastille? Naturally, I told Bazin the same story I told Porthos. I couldn't have used Porthos as my coachman; it would have been too conspicuous and dangerous, of course, and what kind of coachman was Porthos anyway? And I couldn't have used the frail Bazin to kidnap the King, since he was too weak for such a task.
So, the kidnapping and substitution had been a complete success. All that remained was for me to hide Louis as far away as possible, first in the Bastille, then somewhere further away, and then return to Philippe to direct his actions.
Meanwhile, we rode to the Bastille—me, Porthos, and the sleeping Louis. I felt myself the luckiest of mortals, having managed to conceive and almost single-handedly execute such a daring undertaking, which I hoped would have the most beneficial effect on my future destiny, and, of course, on the destiny of all those dear to me. Louis, in my opinion, was currently the most miserable man on earth, but he didn't yet suspect it, as he continued to sleep soundly under the influence of the drink he had consumed.

Chapter 254

Leaving Philippe in the King's place, I intended to take Louis , whose hands and feet we had already bound, to the Bastille, but it suddenly occurred to me that this wasn't the best idea. I decided to weigh the pros and cons. The attractive thing about this solution was that only I could extract the King from the Bastille. Indeed, this prisoner would be impossible to free without the King's order, and his appearance wouldn't help, since the commandant had been warned that his prisoner resembled the King. Of course, I was able to extract Philippe, but to do so, I had to simultaneously use two levers of pressure on General Besmo: a very substantial monetary debt that he was unable to pay, and the authority of the General of the Jesuit Order. There was no other man in all of France, or even in all of Europe, who could have held Besmo in such a tight grip. I think one of these influences alone might have been insufficient; he would have wavered, and his hesitation would have forced me to insist, and who knows how it would have ended. So, on the plus side, no one else could have extracted the King from there; that was significant.
As for the downsides, they were obvious. To put Louis in the Bastille, I would have to apply both of these arguments again. Consequently, I would have to hand over Olympe's promissory note for the second half of the debt to Besmo. In effect, I would have to lend him another quarter of a million livres for four years interest-free. This didn't bother me, but if I needed to infiltrate the Bastille again, I would no longer have such a strong argument, and would only be left with the right of the Order's general to command its members. Although the Order's statutes stipulate the obedience of members even when it conflicts with civic duty, and even obedience to the King, I didn't place too much stock in this possibility. In every case, there can be defectors. Besmo might doubt that my rights were so high in this case. I could certainly convince him, but he might still have doubts, and doubts can lead to treason. No, I didn't want to test Besmo's loyalty to the Order so severely.
I recalled another argument for placing Louis in the Bastille right now. His place was temporarily occupied by a young man named Jean Hers. He had agreed to take it for a short time, to hide. It was time to release him. However, this matter was not at all urgent, and even if he had to sit there for another week or even a month, or even a whole year, there would be nothing wrong with it. After all, he had plotted an assassination attempt on the King and had gotten off with a slight fright. Nothing good would come of it if, after leaving the Bastille, he returned to his idea. After all, Philippe now occupied the King's place, and such an assassination attempt had absolutely no advantage to me; on the contrary, it would be a disaster for me, the ruin of all my plans. However, Jean Hers had promised me to abandon his plan. So, the fate of poor Hers was of no importance in this matter; I could make my plans independently of him. I dismissed this argument.
I thought that if I waited just one day, it would be easier for me to put Louis in the Bastille. Philippe had learned Louis's handwriting and would be able to sign the order. But according to the King's decree, all his orders had to be sealed with the seal kept by Chancellor Seguier. Of course, if Philippe, who was indistinguishable from Louis, ordered the Chancellor to seal the order, it would be done, and the order would be valid. So I needed to wait at least a day, and then I would have such an order in hand, making it a piece of cake to put Louis in the Bastille. And then, if necessary, I could retrieve him, since Philippe would be able to sign the order at my request.
But why would I need to extract Louis? Only if Philippe were to display extreme willfulness and disobey my advice! Well, in that case, I'd have a cudgel against him in the form of his brother, whom I could use to send Philippe back to where I extracted him!
But in that case, my reasoning is flawed! After all, if Louis is kept in the Bastille by Philippe's orders, then, firstly, Philippe will know where he is and will be able to move him anywhere, including to a place from which I would be unable to retrieve him. Furthermore, if I need Louis, I won't be able to rely on Philippe's help, because I'll need Louis against Philippe himself! Surely he wouldn't give me a weapon against himself?
I was, of course, confident that Philippe would remain loyal to me, but Louis, being where Philippe couldn't find him, was my guarantee, my safety. Therefore, I had to hide Louis where Philippe wouldn't think to look for him, and do it without Philippe knowing about it. Therefore, I had to place Louis, for example, in the Bastille, not by Philippe's order, but by my own means. After that, I had to ensure that Philippe would under no circumstances search for Louispe where he was. As King of France, Philippe would be able to organize secret searches that I would never know about. He would order a search for a man similar in height, age, and stature to himself, who had been forcibly brought to some place under the guise of a prisoner. If I couldn't conceal my movements, he would be found. That was dangerous. Therefore, I had to hide Louispe myself, by my own means. Well, I'll have to use the same arguments as the first time. I'll influence Besmo and demand a second "meeting" between my passenger and the prisoner, and swap their places. There was, however, a difficulty here. Jean Hers had voluntarily offered to take Philippe's place to evade a manhunt that could have resulted in the death penalty. Philippe, on the other hand, was desperate to be free. So I didn't have to persuade either of them to go along with this deception. Now I had the sleeping Louis with me, who could wake up at any moment. It was unlikely he would agree to voluntarily take a place in a Bastille cell. As for Jean Hers, I could persuade him by promising him another position, no less secure. Well, I needed to solve these two problems. I'd have to think of something. An idea for Jean Hers came to me naturally. Tomorrow I'd ask Philippe for an arrest warrant for a man matching Hers's description, and for Philippe himself. He'll think it's his brother, King Louis XIV , and he'll give the order. Chancellor Seguier will stamp it, and I'll take Jean Hers where the order says. But why me? Do I serve in the King's Guard? Someone else will take this man. He'll be instructed that his prisoner is masked and must not remove it until he's placed in the dungeon. Excellent! The person instructed to carry out this order can't be d'Artagnan! He might figure it out! I already think he's figured out all my plans. But on the other hand, if it's not me, then Philippe will guess that this prisoner isn't so important to me, and he'll be able to deduce that it's not Louis. Therefore, the order will be given to Porthos. I'll explain to Philippe that he can rely on Porthos as much as he can on me, and as much as he can on himself. And Philippe needs me by his side, because the first day of his reign is the most important and the most dangerous! That's settled. We need to take Jean Hers somewhere far away, say, to Pignerol.
All that remained was to wake Louis and convince him not to resist. Besides, he needed to appear slightly taller than he actually was, like Jean Hers. In this regard, chance, rather than my foresight, played into my hands. I had left in my carriage the clothes and shoes Philippe had worn when he left the Bastille. These shoes had the required heels. Louis, whom we had taken straight from his bed, was in his pajamas; he would have to change into these clothes. So, I decided to wake him.
"Listen, Porthos," I said. "We have another difficult and delicate matter ahead of us. This cousin of the King, as I've already said, is mad. The doctor told me not to argue with him, not to contradict him in anything; that way it will be easier to persuade him to do what's required."
"So that's how it is?" Porthos asked in surprise.
"I'll talk to him myself, and you just make sure he doesn't run away," I continued. "At the slightest attempt to escape, grab him and hold him as tightly as possible. If he tries to scream, shut him up. I'll take care of the rest."
“Well, that’s not difficult,” agreed Porthos.
“But don’t break his bones and don’t strangle him, since he is, after all, the King’s cousin,” I reminded him.
"I'll try, of course, but it'll be as it turns out," Porthos replied. "I'll try to be as gentle with him as with a newborn bull."
"That's just it," I agreed. "So don't be surprised that I'll call this madman 'Your Majesty,' since he's taken it upon himself to be the King. And don't be surprised by the resemblance of his voice to the King's. In fact, it was this resemblance that probably caused his madness. Several times, while visiting his royal brother, he addressed the King's servants through the door, and they, deceived by the resemblance of his voice to the King's, responded as only a King should. At first, His Majesty merely amused himself and laughed at these pranks, but gradually the poor fellow became so immersed in the role that he began to imagine himself the King.
" That's why you shouldn't let all these cousins pretend to be the King!" Porthos said admonishingly, as if he had been repeating this truth to everyone he met for ten years.
"You are right as always, Porthos," I replied. "And by the way, in his presence I will call you 'Brother Isaac,' and you call me 'Brother Ren;.'"
“Why?” asked Porthos.
“I don’t know,” I replied. “It’s the King’s order.”
Porthos nodded meaningfully and muttered to himself: “I am Brother Isaac, Aramis is Brother Ren;, I understand.”
"I'll try to persuade him to voluntarily take a place in the Bastille, from where experienced doctors will remove him, probably in a few days, when he's calmed down," I told Porthos. "Furthermore, I'll threaten him that if he resists, we'll strangle him. But that, of course, won't be true; we won't kill him."
Porthos nodded.
"By the way, we'll pick up a fellow from the Bastille," I said to Porthos. "Tomorrow you'll take him to another place, more suitable for him. This is also an order from the King, which you'll receive tomorrow. Your duchy is just around the corner! Do you understand me?"
"Of course!" Porthos replied, his face breaking into a blissful smile.
"For now, silence," I said. "Let's complete our mission for today."
Porthos nodded a second time, and I began to wake Louis.
"Wake up, Your Majesty!" I said, patting the King on the shoulder.
“What?” Louis cried sleepily. “How dare you disturb my sleep? Who are you? Where am I?”
At that moment, Porthos, with his broad and powerful hand, clamped not only Louis's mouth but also his nose, so that silence ensued, broken only by the fuss with which the King unsuccessfully tried to free himself from Porthos's embrace.
"Your Majesty, stop making noise and resisting, and then Brother Isaac will let you go," I said. "Otherwise, he will cover your mouth and nose until you suffocate."
The fuss died down somewhat. The king tried to bite Porthos's palm, but the giant's skin was too much for the pampered aristocrat. Porthos only smiled, as if a three-day-old kitten had tried to bite him.
“I’ll answer your questions if you don’t scream and stop resisting,” I said. “Are you willing to be quiet?”
Apparently the King realized that his hands and feet were tied and that any resistance was useless, so he submitted.
"Listen, Your Majesty, we're not going to kill you," I said. "But if you resist, we'll have to. Although we really don't want that."
“It seems that you have gone so far that you will no longer turn back from the path you have chosen to betray your King,” said Louis, almost calming down, at least outwardly.
" You're right, someone here has gone too far," I winked discreetly at Porthos. "But don't worry, everything will be fine. You just need to spend a day or two in a well-ventilated room, where you'll be well fed, and where you can sleep and calm down. After that, you'll be released and return home."
“Listen to what Brother Ren; says,” Porthos confirmed.
"The people we're bringing you to don't know who you are," I continued. "If you try to tell them, Brother Isaac will strangle you on the spot. But after we leave you and go, you can tell the owner of the house where we're leaving you, who you are, what your rights are, and what you want from him."
"Is this true?" Louis asked hopefully.
“It’s the honest truth!” I replied. “I swear by God that if you voluntarily follow us to the place where we will take you, without removing your mask or uttering a word, you will remain safe and sound, after which you can tell whatever you wish about yourself to the people who will bring you food, drink, and a bed. You will probably find a way to persuade them to fulfill your wishes, although I’m not sure of that, but no one will hinder you from doing so. As for us, you will never see us again, I hope. Neither I nor Brother Isaac have any desire to hinder you in any way after we part from you. And that will happen in a quarter of an hour. Well, do you agree?”
“You leave me no choice,” Louis replied in an extremely sad voice.
“Exactly, you have no choice,” I agreed. “Now we’ll untie you and change you, because you can’t stay in your pajamas!”

Chapter 255

Soon my carriage arrived at the gates of the Bastille.
“Report to the commandant of the Bastille, Monsieur General de Besmo, that the man who brought the paper from the Duchess has arrived to see him,” I said to the guard.
Five minutes later, Bezmo appeared on the threshold of the Bastille, just as he had the first time. He understood who had visited him, and he didn't need to mention my name.
I put my finger to my lips, forestalling his desire to call me by name.
"No names, Marquis!" I said. "Let me talk to you alone for five minutes."
We walked away from the carriage.
"Dear Monsignor!" whispered Bezmo. "Do you bring good news?"
"And when did I come to you with bad news?" I asked. "I brought you a receipt from Lady Olympia for the second half of your debt, and in exchange, you will write me a receipt for this amount, payable in four years, as we agreed."
"I don't know what I'd do without you, Monsignor!" Bezmo said almost at the top of his voice.
" Please be quiet, and, as a reminder, no names or titles," I replied. "I hope you won't refuse me the courtesy you showed me last time? My passenger would like to see the same prisoner again. I assure you that this visit will be my last, and I won't bother you with my requests any more."
Bezmo trembled slightly.
"You see, Monsignor, I shouldn't have agreed to this then either," he whispered. "And I'm really very embarrassed by these frequent visits, which violate the rules."
"Well then, Marquis, I'm afraid I won't be the bearer of good news this time," I replied coldly. "You handle your own affairs with the Duchess, and I think I'll be going about my business."
"Wait, Monsignor!" Bezmo exclaimed in alarm. "I didn't refuse you! I'm just afraid that my disobedience..."
"Your obedience will be taken into consideration, my son," I said, casually showing Bezmo the ring with the Order's coat of arms. "What disobedience are you speaking of, my son, when you, it seems to me, intend, on the contrary, to show due obedience to a general of the Order?"
Bezmo shuddered and bowed respectfully before me.
"No need to bow, Marquis, I'm here simply, without rank," I replied. "Calm yourself. Obedience to the General of the Order is approved by a bull from the Pope himself, if you recall, and my request is so insignificant that it doesn't even require breaking the rules. Well, perhaps just a little. And besides, no one will know about this. Just as no one knew about the previous visit. Or do you want me to publicize your actions the day before, by refusing me?"
"God forbid, Monsieur General, Monseigneur!" exclaimed Bezmo. "Surely you don't ask me to release any prisoner without the King's order?"
"Not in the least," I replied. "It's just a date, which, as you've already seen, won't cause any harm to anyone."
“Well then, it seems to me that all issues are resolved,” Bezmo replied.
"Exactly so, Marquis," I agreed. "Write a promissory note for two hundred and fifty thousand livres, while we visit your prisoner. Afterwards, we will exchange promissory notes, and rest assured, I will fulfill my obligations. I will not demand early repayment of the debt, nor will I take advantage of my position as General of the Order, which gives me the right to demand from you even money I never gave you, whereas I am instead granting you a deferment on the sums you owe me because I bought your debt to the Cardinal from his niece and heir. Remember my goodwill toward you, a former comrade in the service of Monsieur de Treville!"
Bezmo bowed again and stepped back to give the appropriate orders.
After this, Porthos and I escorted the disguised Louis to the cell where Jean Hers was staying.
The young man slept peacefully on his rather luxurious bed.
He hadn't even heard the door open. I woke him and ordered him to put on the jacket that had been draped over Louis's shoulders. I also ordered him to put on a mask, not the one Louis was wearing, but a similar one, which I had wisely placed in my pocket. I must say that I had no shortage of cloth masks, which I had carried with me just in case since my days in the Musketeers of de Tr;ville. This was sometimes very useful when visiting certain noblewomen, whose husbands I also knew, since the circumstances did not favor my wishing to be recognized.
So we locked Louis in the cell where Philip had been, and now Jean Hers had emerged. Louis was so frightened that he didn't utter a sound.
"Have we talked yet?" Bezmo asked politely, meeting us at the exit of the gallery leading to the cell.
"We just wanted to make sure he was healthy and well fed," I replied. "He's fine, Mr. Bezmo, and I'll report to His Majesty that you're doing a superb job."
"Thank you, Monsignor," Bezmo replied. "And here is my receipt."
We exchanged receipts and Bezmo calmed down completely.
"By the way, Marquis, I apologize for the fact that I think our visit has greatly upset the poor fellow," I said. "Don't be surprised if he suddenly starts raging and demands that we summon the Attorney General himself! Autumn aggravation."
"Let him scream as much as he wants!" Bezmo replied cheerfully. "The walls in the Bastille are thick, and the guards are used to it."
We said our goodbyes and parted ways.
In the carriage I allowed Jean Hers to take off his mask.
"Meet Brother Isaac, young man," I said. "Tomorrow he'll take you to another place, no less comfortable and no less safe. However, you won't be there forever. When things calm down, in a month or two you'll be released, on the condition, of course, that you give up any thought of assassinating the King."
"I have already said that I repent and will never again plot such atrocity," replied Jean Hers. "I am grateful to you for sheltering me, and I will be eternally grateful to you."
"That's what we decided," I replied. "Now let me be quiet and think about the situation. Today has been too full of various worries."
“It doesn’t look like it,” Porthos replied.
"What's not similar?" I asked.
"You told me that this cousin's voice was like the King's," Porthos reminded him. "I remember His Majesty's voice very well. This cousin of his has a completely different voice."
"You're right, Brother Isaac," I replied. "People sometimes come up with all sorts of nonsense. I also find their voices to be completely different. I certainly wouldn't confuse them."
"Me too!" Porthos replied proudly. "I have extremely sensitive hearing."
" I've already noticed and appreciated that," I agreed, then looked out the window connecting the carriage's passengers with the coachman. "Bazin, take the two of us back to where we're coming from, and then take this young man to your home. We'll pick him up from you tomorrow."

Chapter 256

Alone in the cell that threatened to be his final resting place until his death, Louis remained motionless, dejected, and silent for a while. It even occurred to him that he was dead, and that everything happening to him was the trials befalling the soul entering the afterlife. But he rejected this thought, for everything around him was utterly realistic, real, except for the liberties taken by the two scoundrels who had seized and bound him. But Louis thought that sooner or later these two would be found and arrested, or even killed, after which they would search for him, Louis. The state cannot place another heir on the throne until the citizens are assured that their former King is dead. If these two were plotting a coup d';tat, they should have assassinated their King. But if they were planning to kill him, there would be no need for them to wear masks, since he would no longer be able to recognize them. The fact that they were wearing masks gave him hope of returning. Then Louis remembered that he, too, had been forced into a mask, which he still wore. He tore it off with hatred and threw it to the floor at his feet.
“Of course!” he thought, emboldened. “They put a mask on me so the jailers wouldn’t recognize their King! I only have to remove the mask and declare who I am, and they won’t dare keep me here in this cell any longer! They will obey me, give me proper clothing, armed guards, and a carriage, and I will return to Vaux-le-Vicomte and restore order! No, I will not return to Vaux-le-Vicomte! I will return to Paris and enter Vaux-le-Vicomte with my troops, raze this vile castle to the ground, order the arrest of everyone involved in this conspiracy, and hang every single one of them! Fouquet first of all, for this is his castle, his friends, and undoubtedly his conspiracy!”
Louis walked resolutely to the door, took off one of the shoes I'd told him to put on—the very shoes with wooden heels to make him appear taller, like Jean Hers—and began pounding on the door with it as hard as he could. He also began shouting for the commandant of the fortress to be brought to him.
After about five minutes, which seemed like an eternity to him, he heard a displeased voice.
"What else do you want?" the voice asked.
"Bring the commandant here!" shouted Louis. "Or take me to him immediately!"
" The commandant is resting, and you should also calm down and get some sleep," the guard replied. "Why are you so upset? He was such a calm prisoner, no complaints, no outrages, everything was in order! What happened to you?"
“You don’t understand!” Louis cried. “I was only brought here today! The prisoner who was here was freed, and I was forcibly installed in his place! This is a conspiracy! I am King Louis XIV of France! I am your master! I command you to release me, and you are obliged to obey!”
"What a thought!" the guard grumbled. "They were right when they told me you'd lost your mind. But I didn't know it would be so bad or so sudden."
“Listen!” Louis cried. “But I was kidnapped from my bed! It’s Fouquet’s plot! This very day you will hear that your King has disappeared. Perhaps they will announce that I am dead! Perhaps they will say that I am gravely ill and unable to govern. One way or another, they will not be able to present me to the court! That will give them away! Know then, if you do not believe me now, that when you hear that the King is no more, know that I am alive, and that I am here, in this vile dungeon!”
"Very well, my lord," the guard replied. "I can promise you that if it is announced that our good King Louis XIV has disappeared, we will return to this conversation, provided that you immediately shut up and get some sleep. Perhaps that will calm you down."
"Listen, just look at me, and you will understand who I am!" exclaimed Louis.
"Hey, buddy, don't even think about it!" the guard retorted. "I know my duties. We're forbidden to look you in the face unless you're wearing a mask. That's the rule, and you know it's been in place for over ten years, maybe even twelve! At least, that's the way it's always been, and that's the way it'll always be. Don't try to talk me out of my duty."
"Your duty is to obey your King, you fool!" Louis cried angrily. "I command you to open the doors and let me out."
"There you go again," the guard said with disappointment. "I thought we had an agreement. What's wrong with the terms of the agreement I'm offering you? I swear that if our King is reported missing, we'll return to this conversation. Do you agree to calm down and stop waking the other prisoners and guards under these conditions? Will you calm down if I make you this promise?"
"Well, we'll have to wait," Louis replied. "You'll regret not listening to me right away."
"Are you threatening me, sir?" the guard asked in a displeased tone.
"No, you misheard," Louis replied hastily. "I said something quite different! I said that I swear by God that you will not regret your promise to listen to me as soon as your King's disappearance is announced!"
"Yes, I can promise you that, and I already have," the guard replied. "But only on the condition that you calm down immediately and wait patiently. If you continue to rage and make noise, to cause trouble and give neither us nor the prisoners in the fortress any peace, then consider that I promised you nothing. Deal?"
"I agree," Louis said in a resigned tone. "I'll keep quiet, but you won't deceive me either."
“Agreed,” the guard replied.
"Well, he used to be such a calm and quiet prisoner!" the guard thought to himself. "What's happened to him? He must have gone crazy from being in the cell for so long. Well, that happens!"
“There’s nothing I can do now,” Louis consoled himself. “But all is not lost. I’m alive, I’ve made myself known, this fellow seems to have nothing to do with the conspiracy, unless he’s just pretending so cleverly to silence me. Well, one way or another, they’ll have to report my disappearance, or my illness, or even my death. In any case, that idiot will have to think about what I told him. After all, it turns out I predicted something I couldn’t possibly have known, were I not who I am. He’ll come in, we’ll talk, I can convince him to look at me and see for himself that I am his King. After all, the commandant surely has at least, if not my portrait, then a gold louis d’or! Let them compare my face with my portrait on this coin!”
Louis had no idea that there weren't even any louis d'ors with his portrait in 1661! He believed that the issue of coins bearing the reigning king should happen automatically, without a corresponding decree from the king or the superintendent of finance. Had he known that such louis d'ors didn't yet exist, and that their issue wasn't even planned, it would have been yet another reason to hate Fouquet.

Chapter 257

While Louis raged in Philippe's gloomy cell, Philippe luxuriated in Louis's luxurious bed. The next morning, I visited Philippe and informed him that Louis was in my custody, bound and under Porthos's constant guard, but that he must be taken far from Paris to some fortress, perhaps Pignetrolles, where he would be permanently confined. After that, nothing would prevent Philippe from becoming the new King of France, albeit under a false name, and from ruling for as long as God granted him life on this earth.
"Your Majesty," I said to him. "By the way, get used to the fact that even in private I will only address you this way, as we could be overheard. When we need to discuss matters that absolutely no one but you and I should hear, it would be best for us to go out into nature, where there are no bushes or trees nearby, or to converse in the center of the great hall in whispers, only after we have ensured that no one is hiding under the table or behind the chair. So, Your Majesty, we must place a man who poses the greatest danger to the state under guard. Remember that, according to your wishes, your orders must be not only countersigned with your own handwriting, but also with the seal of Chancellor Seguier, who will affix it only in your presence." You can either summon the Chancellor here or sign the appropriate order, and if you intend to leave Vaux-le-Vicomte today, then the Chancellor will seal it as soon as you and I arrive in Paris and return to the Louvre, your true home.
“What do you advise me, Monsignor?” asked Philip.
“Your Majesty, if you ask my advice on such trivial matters, our undertaking will fail, as everyone will suspect something is amiss,” I replied. “Let’s agree that if I utter the word ‘important,’ or the word ‘consider,’ or mention the Lord, it means that we must consult on this matter and agree on a decision. If I omit these words, and if anyone present at the audience is awaiting your decision but you require my advice, then you may also use one of the aforementioned words or refer to the Lord. In all other cases, I recommend that you act as you see fit. If your decision seems unfortunate or dangerous to me, I will use one of the aforementioned words. We will need to change these words from time to time, otherwise we may be found out. But the longer you are King, the fewer matters on which you will truly need to consult me.” So I ask you to make your own decision.
"Very well, but in this, my first independent decision, I would ask for your considerations, although I will retain the final decision," Philip replied. "In this case, I too will be able to exercise independence, but you too will be able to give me some hints regarding the benefits or risks of each of these decisions."
"Excellently fair," I replied. "There's no point in remaining at Vaux-le-Vicomte other than to demonstrate to everyone your favoritism toward Superintendent Fouquet, and even to explain, in some way, the reason for this favor. You simply enjoyed the party. That's a consideration in favor of continuing to stay with Monsieur Fouquet."
“Besides, I will be able to talk to him here and express my goodwill to him,” Philip agreed with me.
"Exactly," I replied. "But you can express your goodwill to him at the Louvre, too; nothing will prevent that. Besides, if you, unlike your predecessor, are not seeking to arrest or depose Fouquet, then there's no urgency about informing him; it can wait. Even if Monsieur Fouquet is somewhat worried about his fate, since it's already been resolved safely, this worry won't kill him, believe me. So this matter can wait."
“Okay, now I ask you to state your reasons for leaving Vaux-le-Vicomte as soon as possible,” Philippe replied.
"They are simple, and there are only two," I replied. "First, it is advisable to place the person you know in a safe place as quickly as possible. Calling Chancellor Seguier here to certify the arrest of someone unknown to him would be imprudent. A summons to the State Chancellor will not go unnoticed, and the reason for it will be unknown. This could give rise to many thoughts in the cunning mind of my dear friend d'Artagnan. I would recommend avoiding such risks. Better to wait with this matter."
"Yes, these considerations are quite significant," Philip said thoughtfully. "But you said there's a second consideration. What is it?"
"Louis came to Vaux-le-Vicomte with the aim of extracting from Mademoiselle de La Valli;re even greater proof of her utmost confidence in him than he had received before," I replied. "In this regard, lovers are still moving toward the pinnacle of their desires, the culmination of their passions. Perhaps they were already extremely close, as close as possible, but Mademoiselle de La Valli;re is such that she manages to maintain a delicate moral distance from the King from time to time, believing that this gives her value. And while he believes this quite rightly, whether by instinct, astonishing purity, or mature judgment and extraordinary dexterity, Louis still falls for this trick like a boy. So he perceives every concession on her part as divine favor, and this will apparently continue until the Lord blesses this union with some child. Usually, after the first birth, women no longer play the prude. However, I wouldn't vouch for Mademoiselle de La Valli;re's ability to continue this game after her second and third births.
"Are you saying that Louis planned to satisfy his desires with this lady-in-waiting during his stay at Vaux-le-Vicomte?" Philippe asked, skillfully concealing his horror or disdain for the situation.
“You have deigned to understand me completely correctly, Your Majesty,” I replied.
"In that case, we're leaving for Paris today, immediately," Philip replied decisively. "The sooner, the better."
"And without even having lunch?" I asked.
"No, just breakfast will suffice," said Philippe. "And lest the aforementioned mademoiselle think the King has lost his nerve, I beg you to think of some suitable excuse for my urgent departure. Say, a war on the Spanish border."
"At the moment, all is quiet on the Spanish border," I replied. "And besides, war is not a sufficient reason for the King to interrupt his merriment. Wars are constant, and His Majesty's merriment is too important a matter to be so needlessly interrupted or postponed. I can offer a more compelling reason."
"Which one?" Philip asked.
“If your wife, Maria Theresa, were to complain of migraine and express a desire to leave for Paris, you could either send her alone, which would not be received with surprise, or condescend to leave with her, which would be considered by everyone as the highest favor and a manifestation of extraordinary nobility within your own family,” I said.
"But where would the Queen's migraine come from?" Philip asked.
"From the same source as all women's migraines," I replied. "From the desire to annoy one's husband, or from the desire to force him, if not to obey, then at least to abandon one's plans. If the Queen learns that her migraine will be enough to make her husband give up his attempt to conquer Mademoiselle de La Valli;re for at least the next twenty-four hours, rest assured that this migraine will not be long in coming. All that's needed is for someone to let her know that, should she have a migraine, her husband, the King, will accompany her to Paris. And the entire court, of course, will also go along with you."
"Who could hint this to her?" Philip asked.
"Only someone who is close enough to the Queen to converse with her, and who isn't thrilled about your connection with Mademoiselle de La Valli;re," I replied. "That's Princess Henrietta. It would be best to do it through one of her ladies-in-waiting. You only have to yawn during breakfast, and everyone will know you're bored here."
"Everyone?" Philip was surprised. "Will everyone really notice my yawn?"
"Of course, Your Majesty," I replied with a laugh. "Get used to the fact that if the King looks at whomever he pleases, everyone else in the King's presence will look only at him! If you ring the bell, all the courtiers will also begin to yawn, after which they will order everyone to start packing. And if after that you simply say in a quiet voice near one of the Princess's maids of honor, for example, Ora de Montale, 'I can't wait to get back to the Louvre,' then consider your departure to the Louvre a done deal; it will arrange itself."

Chapter 258

"Your Majesty, as far as I know, you have summoned Monsieur d'Artagnan this morning," I said. "Louis most likely invited him to order Fouquet's arrest. I think d'Artagnan also suspects this. We should not cancel the audience; let d'Artagnan appear. Give him some trivial task, and let him learn a lesson by being disappointed in his own insight. In that case, he will be taken aback and, I hope, not too observant. God only knows what signs he uses, but his powers of observation are most dangerous to you and me."
"I will do so, lord bishop, but what instructions should I give him?" asked Philip.
“It doesn’t matter,” I replied. “Think of it yourself.”
Almost immediately, the King's secretary, Hubert, entered the office and reported that the captain of the king's musketeers, d'Artagnan, was asking to see him.
Philip and I exchanged glances, and he said briefly: “Ask.”
D'Artagnan entered, saw me, and his surprise knew no bounds, but he pulled himself together and greeted Philippe with all the necessary honors he would have paid to a king. This calmed me somewhat.
I understood that d'Artagnan was eager to say at least a few words to me, or to ask me why I was in the King's reception room, but it was not proper to be surprised in the presence of His Majesty, so he looked as if he found me there every day when he came to see the King.
“Good morning, dear d’Artagnan,” I greeted him as if nothing had happened.
“Good morning, Your Eminence,” replied the captain of the musketeers.
He didn't show the slightest sign of surprise. I decided to go all in.
"Don't be surprised that I visited His Majesty so early," I said. "Even royalty sometimes needs servants of God, my dear friend."
"Of course!" replied d'Artagnan. "And the best of them is already here. I am extremely grateful for you; at last you have been appreciated, dear bishop."
"I've heard you gentlemen are great friends!" said Philip. "So much the better, for I need you both, so you'll have the opportunity to see each other more often."
"I am unspeakably glad of this, Your Majesty!" exclaimed d'Artagnan, and even his own mother would not have seen a drop of irony in these words.
But I knew d'Artagnan could disguise himself so well that he would have fooled even Niccol; Machiavelli himself. He would, of course, have been delighted by my elevation, but he always feels uneasy when something happens that he cannot understand. In this case, something incomprehensible to him had occurred, and this, of course, alarmed him. However, he assumed a pose of extreme deference and turned back to the King, as if awaiting the instructions that would follow his appearance in the King's antechamber, where the King himself had invited him the previous evening.
"Monsieur d'Artagnan!" said Philippe, realizing the captain of the musketeers was awaiting some mission, the one he had been ordered to report for that morning. "You know that the island fortress of Belle-;le now belongs to me. I have ordered a new garrison to be established there. Study the lists of those sent there; I require your opinion. If any of the appointed officers, in your opinion, are not reliable enough, suggest a replacement."
I was dumbfounded. Philippe was asking d'Artagnan to resolve a matter that had long since been resolved; the soldiers and officers had already been dispatched! I wish I had come up with something for him to do myself! I decided to try to remedy the situation by explaining that the King had reason to doubt the wisdom of his previous decision.
“His Majesty finds that this question was decided, perhaps, a little hastily, whereas this fortress is very important for the defense of our borders,” I said.
"Yes, yes," Philippe confirmed. "Consult Monsieur Fouquet on this matter."
“Yes, Your Majesty,” d’Artagnan answered extremely calmly.
He accepted this incredible order with an equally incredible clarification, as if it were nothing special, causing me to feel cold rivulets of sweat running down my back. I would have preferred it if my friend had roughly grabbed me by the robe, pulled me aside, and whispered, "Tell me in order, Monsieur d'Herblay, what happened here?" For that contingency, I had two or three absurd tales in store, the most credible of which I could impart after d'Artagnan had disbelieved the first two.
Perhaps it would have passed for at least a half-truth. D'Artagnan's calm indicated that he had probably understood everything, or at least understood too much. Most importantly, he realized that something was wrong with the King. Apparently, d'Artagnan realized that the King's kindness to me and Fouquet only foreshadowed a future flood of favors that would flow like water from a cornucopia to me and Fouquet. He also realized that this could not be explained by a whim or a change of mood; something out of the ordinary had happened. But he could not directly express his surprise, so he simply left to carry out His Majesty's instructions.
"Tell me, Hubert," said d'Artagnan, entering the reception room and turning to the King's secretary. "At what time did His Majesty send for the Bishop of Vannes?"
"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? Just last night, in my presence, His Majesty asked the bishop to come to him at exactly eight o'clock in the morning! Goodbye, Hubert!"
After this, d'Artagnan decisively twirled his right mustache and departed with an air of having resolved the most pressing question of the universe. He headed toward Fouquet.
"Monsieur Fouquet, good morning," he said. "Forgive me for disturbing you early, but His Majesty has sent me to you."
"Have you come to arrest me?" Fouquet asked calmly.
"Have mercy, Monseigneur!" d'Artagnan retorted with a laugh. "Where do such gloomy thoughts come from? You, the minister, the superintendent of finance—and suddenly arrested! The King asked me to consult with you regarding the officers sent to serve in the garrison of the fortress of Belle-Ile."
"But I gave this fortress to His Majesty, and he has already sent his soldiers there!" exclaimed Fouquet. "Why ask my opinion of these people? Do I dare doubt the loyalty of the King's soldiers?"
"Not at all, Monseigneur!" replied d'Artagnan. "And I also cannot doubt in the slightest the appointments already signed by His Majesty. It seemed to me that the King simply wanted to send me out of sight. He probably wanted to consult about something with his new friend."
"Ah, yes, with Monsieur Colbert," said Fouquet. "Doesn't he have time to talk to him alone?"
"You are mistaken, Monseigneur, he wanted to chat privately with the Bishop of Vannes," replied d'Artagnan. "And, by the way, they had already had quite a chat privately before my arrival."
"With the Bishop of Vannes?" exclaimed Fouquet. "This must be a joke!"
"Not at all," d'Artagnan retorted. "I believe it was he who suggested that I take advantage of your advice regarding the review of the officers of the garrison at Belle-Ile."
"How did he become so close to His Majesty? And so quickly?" Fouquet asked, more of himself than of d'Artagnan.
"He himself would be best placed to answer that question at the moment," d'Artagnan replied. "But something tells me the best answer isn't always the most truthful. So, Monseigneur, can you tell me anything about the officers of Belle-Ile?"
"Absolutely nothing, since after Belle-;le was handed over to the King, I completely lost interest in the island," Fouquet lied. "And I will under no circumstances presume to correct or criticize, or even doubt, the selection of officers for this garrison, which His Majesty has already made."
"I thought so, monseigneur," d'Artagnan replied coldly. "I am of exactly the same opinion. With that, allow me to take my leave."
"It's a trap!" thought Fouquet, turning cold. "The King wants me to name those officers I have confidence in, who are well-disposed toward me, or even more loyal to me than to the King! Once I name them, these men will be dismissed! Oh, no, I won't fall for this!"
“So the King simply had to send me away!” thought d’Artagnan. “And all this after he insisted last night that I appear before him as early as possible in the morning! Yesterday he needed me, today I’m a nuisance! Yesterday he didn’t care about the Bishop of Vannes, today he’s inseparable from him! To change so much in one night! Well, people can change after a night of reflection, after a sleepless night, after pondering many problems. But how, in this case, could Aramis have foreseen these changes in His Majesty? Why did he appear before the King without his orders? Only one thing could explain this—if Aramis himself was involved in this change. A man cannot change his allegiance overnight without reason, unless he has been conversing with another person possessing an incredible, practically divine gift of persuasion. Especially not the King.” Even if Aramis had possessed such a gift, he wouldn't have been able to secure an all-night audience with the King. So he would first have had to win the King over to his side, and only then spend the night conversing to achieve that. But effect can't precede cause. So the King couldn't have changed overnight. But he did. Therefore, he's not the same man. But my eyes don't deceive me; this is the same King we all know. He just behaves differently. But such things happen in nature. Twin brothers do exist, as alike as two peas in a pod. However, our King doesn't have a twin brother! Because if he did... Wait! If he did, he could have been hidden to avoid ambiguity in the succession to the throne! Cardinal Richelieu could have pulled off such a thing. And he was the one who was present at the birth, along with the King! So, a twin brother could exist, and it could very well be that the fact of a twin's birth is hidden from the people, and the twin himself is hidden, concealed forever. But how could Aramis have learned this secret? My God, of course! After all, he could know everything the Duchess de Chevreuse knows, and the Duchess de Chevreuse knows everything, or almost everything, that Queen Anne knows! That explains all of Aramis's secrets! I've already concluded that Aramis is plotting against the King, but Aramis is a man of refined thought; he doesn't like reckless adventures or excessive risks! He prefers to act subtly, carefully, and effectively. And during our last conversation, he was confident of success, which is important. He knew he would make a powerful move that would radically change the balance of power. The idea of replacing the King with his twin brother is exactly the kind of idea that Aramis might be interested in. Everything is coming together; instead of the disparate branches of Aramis's actions, I finally see the entire tree of cause and effect! Assuming that the King's double, his twin brother, really does exist, then Aramis not only pierced this secret, but was also bold and resourceful enough to forcibly remove the legitimate King and replace him with his twin brother! Well, that's a very reasonable assumption! But I need more proof! Where can I find it? Should I wait until the next day and see how this new King treats Mademoiselle de La Valli;re? The idea itself is not bad, but I could lose precious time! Whatever! I must immediately begin a search for the real King! Aramis won't dare kill him, so he will try to hide him where no one can find him. It would be best to hide him in the same place where the King's brother was until now. And where was he? Lately, Aramis has shown an inordinate interest in the Bastille, and particularly in its commandant, the Marquis de Besmo! It's difficult to explain this by the sudden friendship Aramis has developed with an old comrade-in-arms! Aramis isn't that sentimental. He always has a calculated motive behind his actions; he never acts without reason! So, then, Aramis's interest in Besmo is explained by the fact that the King's brother was held in the Bastille. And, therefore, the King himself is now there, perhaps even in the same cell where this Prince was held. Oh, Aramis—the cunning fox! He probably did it in such a way that even Besmo himself doesn't suspect the substitution! So, it's decided! I must go to the Bastille as soon as possible and extract the rightful King from there. To be sure, I should take a look at Aramis's carriage. "If my suspicions are correct, I'll find traces of clay on its wheels, or rather on its undercarriage, typical of the road to the Bastille. It wouldn't be a bad idea to take a look at the horses, too. If they rode there and back during the night, I'll be able to tell by their blankets, the condition of their hooves, and other signs! Forward, d'Artagnan, you must save your King!"

Chapter 259

My readers, whose existence I do not assume, as I am writing these memoirs solely for myself, will nevertheless, if there are any, ask: "How did he know what d'Artagnan was thinking? How could he have known the thoughts of the other characters in the work?" Some things were told to me later. Some I guessed myself, as it was not difficult. And some other thoughts were not difficult to reconstruct logically. I have repeatedly practiced guessing what people are thinking, noting their movements, facial changes, involuntary, even the most subtle facial gestures, even blinking, licking their lips, raising their eyebrows, and so on. I have become accustomed to mentally rehearsing the thoughts I presumed my interlocutors were thinking. And I have often found that I can quite well reconstruct the thoughts of those with whom I am conversing, and sometimes even the thoughts of those with whom I have just conversed, immediately before or immediately after the conversation. I'm accustomed to trusting myself, my memory, and my logic, for it was precisely thanks to these gifts that I was able to achieve a position so exalted that it already weighs heavily on me. So, for me, everything I infer from my interlocutors is as true as my recollection of events or conversations. But in this case, I know d'Artagnan's thoughts from himself; he subsequently recounted his reasoning to me.
So, I will continue.
D'Artagnan reasoned that it would be wonderful to carry out a reversal of the order: return Louis to his place and send his brother back to the Bastille. However, once Louis was restored to his position, everything else would no longer concern the captain of the king's musketeers.
For this, it would be good to extract the King from the Bastille. But how to get there, and how to get the King out? The task itself is not simple, and if you try to do it discreetly, without scandal, to keep everything secret, then it seemed downright impossible. The problem was insoluble, but not for d'Artagnan, for our Gascon did not recognize insoluble problems.
And then d'Artagnan had an epiphany. He remembered the episode when Athos had become overly heated in a conversation with the King. Louis had reproached Athos, but summoned d'Artagnan and ordered him to arrest the Comte de la F;re.
"Your Majesty, I will, of course, carry out this order without delay, but I request that the order not mention the name of the worthy Count and Marquis, Knight of the English Order of the Suspension and the French Order of the Holy Spirit," d'Artagnan said. "One of these Orders was bestowed upon him by your order, and the other by the late King Charles of England. The Marquis's guilt is undoubtedly great, but only in that, living in the provinces, he forgot how to converse with the King. To avoid giving rise to rumors of persecution of the nobility, which, as you know, could overly excite the overexcitable population of Paris, it would be better if the order referred to him as 'Marquis Inconnue,' that is, 'Marquis of Nobody.'" The Commandant of the Bastille, the Marquis de Besmo, is an old friend of the Marquis de La F;re from our shared Musketeer days, so it would be best if the order were given anonymously, and I would bring the Count himself to the Bastille disguised, so that Besmo would not know who had been placed with him. At least for now.
"Very well," Louis replied reluctantly, realizing he had been too hasty and simply not wanting to back down from his initial impulse, lest he appear indecisive. "Write down the arrest warrant for the Marquis de l'Inconnu;, and under that name, place the Marquis de La F;re in the Bastille."
Having received a written order from the secretary, signed by the King, d'Artagnan went to Chancellor Seguier to affix the royal seal to the order. Since the Chancellor knew d'Artagnan well, he affixed the seal in the King's absence, as was permitted in such cases.
All this took quite some time, so Athos, unaware of the clouds gathering over his head, calmly returned home. After receiving the formal document, the cunning Gascon approached Athos and informed him that the King had ordered him placed under house arrest. Athos was to remain at home until this punishment was lifted. Athos, who had expected a more severe punishment, was astonished and thanked d'Artagnan for, apparently through his efforts, making it so light. D'Artagnan then rode in his carriage to the Bastille and back, simply to let some time pass, and in case anyone had seen him, so he could confidently claim to have been in the Bastille. The cunning Gascon then returned to Louis, reported the execution of the order, and then begged him to listen to him. Using all his eloquence, he persuaded the King to rescind his order, replacing it with ten days of house arrest. These ten days were necessary for Athos to cool his ardor, calm down, and avoid any foolishness. However, for a recluse like Athos, ten days of house arrest was more a blessing than a burden. Louis reluctantly relented, but only partially—he agreed to release the Count after ten days. Along with the Gascon's eloquence, Louis's respect for d'Artagnan, gratitude for his long and faithful service, and even, perhaps, a certain remorse and self-awareness, played a role. I don't know, perhaps I'm deeply mistaken in ascribing such feelings as remorse or self-awareness to royalty. However, Louis was still very young, and in some ways remained almost a conscientious youth.
“I hope ten days in the Bastille will do him good,” said the King.
"Oh, yes!" d'Artagnan agreed . "Duke Fran;ois de La Rochefoucauld spent only a week in the Bastille, half the time, but that week turned him into a completely different man, loyal and modest."
"La Rochefoucauld wasn't exactly loyal," Louis grumbled. "But on your own responsibility, I'll limit myself to this ten-day period, and if he continues to display his temper in such an inappropriate manner, the Bastille could become his home for a very, very long time. I'll sign this order for the Count's release now, but you'll only take advantage of it in ten days."
"Yes, Your Majesty, exactly as you have ordered," d'Artagnan agreed. "The Marquis Inconnue will be released only ten days after the signing of this order."
"Yes, yes, 'Marquis Inconnue,'" Louis replied with a laugh. "Well, we did well not to include the Marquis's name in the arrest warrant."
So, d'Artagnan received the order for the Marquis de l'Inconnu;'s release from the Bastille, and also had it sealed by Chancellor S;guier. Ten days later, d'Artagnan visited Athos and announced that his house arrest had been lifted.
“The king asked you not to tell him where you spent these ten days,” said d’Artagnan.
"Tell His Majesty that I have no intention of expatiating on the gratitude of royalty," Athos replied. "He can rest assured on that score. I am returning to Blois immediately and hope he never hears from me again."
“An extremely wise decision,” replied d’Artagnan.
As a result of these maneuvers, d'Artagnan came into possession of two royal orders, executed in full compliance with all due form. One of them ordered the imprisonment of a certain unnamed marquis in the Bastille; the other, his release. The cunning Gascon carefully packed both orders in a thick parchment envelope until he might need them.
Now he took out this parchment envelope and extracted the order for the release of the unknown marquis.
"How thoughtless not to put a date on such important orders!" he exclaimed with a smile. "Well, Your Majesty, your thoughtlessness will serve you well! Without it, how could I have gotten you out of the Bastille without your order, signed in your own hand and bearing the state seal from Chancellor Seguier? On your way, d'Artagnan!"
As much as d'Artagnan was in a hurry to get to the Bastille, he rode not on horseback but in his own carriage. He took advantage of the fact that Philippe had given him a mission, which he completed almost immediately, so he considered himself free from further service and was confident that no one would miss him. As his coachman, he hired one of the trusted musketeers, de Jaume.
Arriving at the Bastille, he presented the commandant, the Marquis de Besmeaux, with an order to release the "Marquis de l'Inconnu;." Besmeaux replied that there was no such prisoner in the Bastille.
"Do you have so many marquises in the Bastille that you don't understand who we're talking about?" asked d'Artagnan. "And don't you understand that 'Inconnue,' which means 'Nameless,' is a secret name that replaces the prisoner's real name, which should never be spoken, much less written?"
“There is only one prisoner, who is ordered to be addressed as Monseigneur, and for whose maintenance special sums are issued,” answered de Bezmo.
"Of course, we're talking about him," d'Artagnan replied. "The very same prisoner who was visited last night by Monsieur d'Herblay, my friend and former colleague of yours. The Bishop of Vannes showed extreme concern for this prisoner and secured an order for his release."
"So this order was signed as a result of Monseigneur d'Herblay's efforts?" Bezmo asked with visible relief.
"Of course, my dear Marquis, and he asked me to convey his warmest greetings and to thank you once again for the service you rendered him yesterday!" exclaimed d'Artagnan. "How could you doubt that we were acting in concert? Don't you remember what friends we were? Our famous foursome were always in cahoots in everything!"
"Of course, of course!" de Bezmo said joyfully. "Convey my sincere thanks to the Bishop, and please inform him that you had no difficulty in carrying out this order!"
"I'll be sure to pass it on," d'Artagnan said, clapping Bezmo on the shoulder, as he had done in the days of the Musketeers. "And one more thing. Make sure I don't meet anyone on the way. You understand what a secret identity this 'Marquis Inconnue' is! People like the Bishop of Vannes are interested in him! And even, as you can see, the King himself!"
"Don't worry, Monsieur d'Artagnan, I'll send everyone away," Bezmo replied. "I'll take you to the gallery, room number eleven, on the right. It's not a cell, but an entire apartment, mind you! The prisoner is being kept in excellent conditions, as ordered! Here's the key. Please leave the order with me."
"Of course, my dear Marquis, I know the routine. The order is yours, the prisoner mine," d'Artagnan replied with a smile, handing the order to the commandant. "You can give me the key right now, and don't forget to leave. We'll pass through your office with the prisoner, and I'll leave the key on your desk."

Chapter 260

Louis lay on his bed, eyes closed, in utter despair. He no longer thought of anything, simply awaiting the outcome of his fate. It was already midday, no one had come for him; the guard had either deceived him or simply laughed at him. Either the King's disappearance had caused no stir, or the guard was an accomplice in the conspiracy. But how could the King's disappearance not alarm all of France the next morning? It was incomprehensible, and it was a very bad sign.
Suddenly he heard the sound of a key being inserted into the lock, then the key was apparently turned twice, and the doors opened.
The King raised his head and saw the captain of his musketeers enter the room and put his finger to his lips as a sign of silence.
"Your Majesty, I have come to rescue you, but I beg you, for the honor of your house and for the continued peace of your reign, do not make any noise!" he said. "Poor Besmo doesn't know who has been imprisoned in the Bastille, so let's not tell him. Keep your kidnapping a secret; it will facilitate your return to the throne."
"Wait a minute," said the King, rising from his bed. "I don't understand anything. What happened? Who kidnapped me?"
"We will certainly sort this out, all those responsible will be punished, and you will be restored to all your rights. But right now, an impostor sits on your throne, so we must proceed with caution and prudence," said d'Artagnan. "You do trust me, Your Majesty, don't you?"
"In the present circumstances, perhaps you are the only one I trust, my faithful d'Artagnan," replied Louis. "But I seem unable to rise!"
"It's just your nerves, Your Majesty," d'Artagnan reassured the King. "Take a sip of this miraculous balm and lean on my shoulder. There's no time to waste."
"What kind of drink is this?" Louis asked suspiciously.
"You think this is poison?" asked d'Artagnan. "Let me take a sip myself."
“No need, I believe you,” the King replied.
He resolutely snatched the bottle from d'Artagnan's hands and took two large gulps, after which he began to cough.
"Two sips are perhaps too much," said d'Artagnan. "It will perk you up too much. But anyway, let's go."
Leaning on the shoulder of the captain of his musketeers, the King rose and headed for the exit.
At that moment he saw on the floor the mask that Louis had torn off when he was left alone after being placed in that cell.
"Were you brought in here wearing a mask, Your Majesty?" he asked.
"Yes, but I will never wear it again!" exclaimed the King.
"We mustn't meet anyone on the way, but perhaps you could cover your face with my hat," said d'Artagnan. "If they didn't see your face when you arrived, it's better they don't see it when you leave this vile place forever."
The King squeezed d'Artagnan's shoulder, and the captain realized it was a gesture of gratitude. As he left, he discreetly picked up the mask with his sword and put it in his pocket.
They proceeded without incident through the gallery, then through Bezmo's office, where the captain threw the key to room eleven on the owner's desk, then went down the stairs, went out into the courtyard and got into d'Artagnan's carriage.
"Drive to the Louvre!" cried d'Artagnan, turning to de Jaume.
"Why didn't they miss me?" asked Louis. "And why are we going to the Louvre if the entire court is at Vaux-le-Vicomte?"
"The court has no further business at Vaux-le-Vicomte," replied d'Artagnan. "Everyone will return to the Louvre. As for the first question, Your Majesty, take heart. After all, you said you trusted me completely. You don't think I'm crazy, do you?"
"Less than anyone else in France," replied Louis. "I recognize in you the most sensible Frenchman and my most loyal subject!"
“So, Your Majesty, the most sensible Frenchman and your most loyal subject informs you that this morning I arrived at your office in the castle of Vaux-le-Vicomte and found you there, who even gave me a certain assignment.
"What?" Louis exclaimed. "You found me there? You must be joking!"
"Would I dare to joke like that at such a moment, Your Majesty?" d'Artagnan objected. "Your place is taken by a man who is the spitting image of Your Majesty."
"Incredible!" exclaimed the King.
"I believe there is a twin brother of yours, Your Majesty, whose existence Cardinal Richelieu and your parents hid from the world," d'Artagnan replied. "And now some people have learned of this and decided to take advantage of the situation. They wouldn't have dared to kidnap you if they didn't have someone who could replace you without anyone noticing."
"I have a twin brother?" Louis exclaimed. "And he's so similar that even my wife, my mother, and no one else will notice the change?"
“I myself did not notice any difference, Your Majesty,” said d’Artagnan.
"How did you know it wasn't me?" Louis asked incredulously.
"From your double's behavior," d'Artagnan replied. "I had already suspected something very insidious and cunning was afoot. From certain signs, I even admitted the possibility I encountered. But I confess that when I saw your double, I had no idea at first how much he resembled you. But didn't you summon me yesterday for some important matter?"
"I wanted to instruct you to prepare for Fouquet's arrest," Louis replied. "This man has his minions all over the place, and arresting him won't be easy. At least, that's what I thought when I wanted to talk to you about it this morning! But what a scoundrel! It's all his doing! It couldn't be any other way!"
“I cannot say that Fouquet is directly involved in this conspiracy, Your Majesty, but it was certainly conceived and carried out by those who consider him their friend,” replied d’Artagnan.
"Then why do you rule out his participation?" the King asked with some irritation. "Don't friends all act in concert?"
“I thought so myself, but recent events have convinced me that friends do not always act in concert, Your Majesty,” said d’Artagnan thoughtfully.
"You seem to be hiding something, Captain," the King said dryly. "It seems to me that you're covering for the conspirators. Are any of your relatives or friends involved in this matter?"
"I don't think so, Your Majesty," d'Artagnan replied. "But we will, of course, sort this all out. I just beg you not to act rashly. All the guilty will be punished as they deserve. But we must try to ensure that the innocent are not punished."
"That's not at all necessary," Louis replied coldly. "Haven't you read Cardinal Richelieu's last will and testament? He wrote that for the good of the state, the most important thing is to exterminate all conspirators, and if an innocent person suffers in the process, there's no great harm in that. It would be far worse if the guilty one escaped punishment."
"I have not read the works of Cardinal Richelieu," replied d'Artagnan. "I have only read two papers written by him personally, in his own hand."
"Really?" the King perked up. "What was in those papers?"
"They were two patents," d'Artagnan replied. "The first one absolved the bearer of all responsibility for their actions, whatever they were. It stated: 'The bearer of this did what he did with my permission and for the good of France,' and was signed 'First Minister Armand Richelieu.'"
"Even so?" Louis was surprised. "I would never have thought Richelieu would sign such a document. What kind of trust did you have if he granted you such a patent! How did you achieve this?"
“This patent was not issued to me, Your Majesty, but to the one who planned to kill me and my three friends,” replied d’Artagnan.
"Richelieu gave permission to kill you, and even issued written orders for it, is that so?" the King asked in surprise. "Then why did you survive?"
"Not just me, but all three of my friends," d'Artagnan replied. "It's a long story. We simply liberated the soil of France from a murderer, and the document came to us as a trophy."
"Interesting!" Louis replied. "What kind of document was the second one?"
“It was an open patent for the post of lieutenant of the king’s musketeers, which Cardinal Richelieu presented to all four of us, asking us to enter the name we deemed worthy.
“I understand,” said the King. “And you didn’t quarrel over whose name would be written there?”
"We only argued to the point that each of us refused and ceded the honor to the other," replied d'Artagnan. "In the end, the most authoritative of us insisted that my name be included in this patent."
"And that's how you became a lieutenant of the musketeers," Louis replied with a nod. "I understand."
"Not quite so, Your Majesty," said d'Artagnan. "My authoritative friend took it upon himself to write my name there, but he ruined the patent by first making a huge blot on it and then, in his haste, erasing it by spilling wine on it."
"What a disservice he has done you!" exclaimed Louis.
"On the contrary, he rendered me an extremely important service, Your Majesty!" d'Artagnan continued to object. "After all, if my name had been included in the patent, I would have become a lieutenant in the Cardinal's musketeers! Or, at any rate, I would have received the rank of musketeer from the Cardinal's hands, and I would have been indebted to him for it."
"So you didn't become a lieutenant of the musketeers?" asked Louis.
"The next day, my friend went to Captain de Treville and showed him the damaged patent," d'Artagnan replied. "The captain immediately realized what was wrong and filled out a new patent in his own name, which he signed with the signature of your father, King Louis XIII . This incident taught me that one should not read documents signed by any minister when there is a King in the country."
“But you served Cardinal Mazarin, didn’t you?” - asked the flattered Louis.
"Only until Your Majesty reached his majority," replied d'Artagnan. "And then, Cardinal Mazarin was your minister, so by serving him, I was also serving Your Majesty."
"But wasn't Cardinal Richelieu my father's minister?" Louis objected. "Something doesn't add up, Captain!"
“It all fits together for me, since Cardinal Richelieu, while serving your father, sometimes oppressed your good mother, Queen Anne, while Cardinal Mazarin never did anything wrong against either the Queen or Your Majesty, but on the contrary, defended you and her from all who tried to harm you,” d’Artagnan replied. “But we are already approaching the Louvre! Since I do not see the usual abundance of guards, I believe Your Majesty’s double has not yet arrived here. I propose entering the Louvre not through the main entrance, but through the one we, your faithful guards, sometimes use. Let Your Majesty’s appearance be a surprise to the impostor. We will endeavor to remove him as discreetly as the conspirators did with you. If this proves impossible, we will be forced to reveal your incognito. But this would be highly undesirable, as it could spark a civil war.”
"A civil war, you say?" Louis was surprised. "On what occasion?"
"Even if your double weren't your brother, no one would stop him from declaring it so," d'Artagnan replied. "Or worse, he'll declare he's you, and you an impostor. We could, of course, expose him after a lengthy and detailed investigation, but this scandal is bound to shake the political balance in the country. The surviving Frondeurs will proclaim him the true King, and much blood will be shed. The blood of Your Majesty's subjects. Is this necessary now, when your reign has only just acquired a much-needed balance, your subjects reduced to a state of complete submission and obedience?"
"You call the kidnapping of the King and the installation of a usurper on the throne submission and subjugation?" Louis exclaimed.
"They're just a couple of conspirators, nothing more," d'Artagnan countered. "Besides, if we can quietly remove the impostor, he won't have the opportunity to incite rebellion, whereas if we raise a fuss, we won't be able to remove him permanently and secretly, nor prevent him from seeking support from anyone."
"I think there are many more conspirators," Louis replied, beginning to calm down somewhat. "But you're right, it's better to do this quietly and without fuss. There's no point in exciting my subjects with the idea of someone like me, especially one who's claiming my place."
“Then put on my hat and this mask,” said d’Artagnan.
"When did you manage to pick her up from the floor?" Louis asked in surprise.
“I picked it up with my sword, thinking that it might be useful to us,” replied d’Artagnan.

Chapter 261

Left alone with Philippe, I warned him against openly avoiding Mademoiselle de La Valli;re, expressing his affection for Fouquet too openly, or displaying hostility toward Colbert. He also shouldn't show indifference to the same forms of entertainment that Louis enjoyed. At least for a while, Philippe should be Louis XIV , and nothing else, and only very gradually change his policies, his behavior, and even, if he so desired, his passions, habits, and preferences.
“I would like to see my mother,” said Philip. “All these years I knew neither my mother nor my father, and I had no idea that my mother was alive. But she is already many years old, and her life could end any day. I understand that the time for a mother’s affection is lost forever for me. But at least I could take her hands, look into her eyes, to remember her face, her voice, even her scent.”
"It's a perfectly natural desire, but highly inappropriate and very dangerous," I countered. "Lately, there's been a growing estrangement and coldness between Louis and the Queen Mother. Your mother would, of course, be glad to see proof of filial love and affection, but it would alarm her, as well as everyone else who witnesses it. Louis never acted like that. Be patient for at least a week or two. We'll come up with reasons for your spiritual rapprochement, and you'll be able to do whatever you want, not right away, but a little later, gradually preparing everyone for this change in you."
"I understand that I must become Louis, but some things greatly distress me, almost frighten me," Philippe said sadly. "Louis's wife will now be my wife. I don't know whether Louis loved her, or only pretended to, or perhaps he did love her but fell out of love later, or whether he combined his affection for her with a new affection for Mademoiselle de La Valli;re? I can't imagine how to behave with her. Besides, it's adultery! To treat your brother's wife as your own, to usurp her husband's rights while her husband is still alive—that's terrible."
“Not too terrible, believe me, Your Majesty,” I countered. “At least half the French do this. What is truly terrible is that you were torn from your family, deprived of the rights that are rightfully yours, and to top off this monstrous injustice, deprived of your freedom, deprived of the right to live a normal life, to have a family, children, to love and be loved! You had the determination and courage to reclaim everything that was taken from you unlawfully. By human law, what you and I did to your brother is punishable by death. And what you are about to do to his wife is merely condemned. By God’s law, however, you serve the Order, and the Order serves the Pope, God’s vicar on earth. So, in my person, the Pope and God himself absolve you of this sin and all those sins that follow from this extraordinary feat you have decided to undertake. If you dislike the Queen… That is regrettable.” But you haven't seen her yet! How can you know in advance what feelings she will evoke in you? And besides... Well, you may not meet the Queen, or only briefly and formally. You could say later that you've grown cold towards her. Although this marriage was concluded for political reasons, and its strength would have guaranteed lasting peace between France and Spain. Just think, you could become the father of the Queen's second child, and if God takes the Dauphin and your future child is a boy, you will be the father of the future King and the de facto founder of this new dynasty! Would you really refuse this honor?
“Stolen honor is dubious,” Philip sighed.
“You were more decisive yesterday,” I said.
“I won’t back down now,” Philippe replied firmly. “Forgive me this moment of weakness. You’re right, I must be Louis, as he was, at least for now. I will be the Queen’s husband, Mademoiselle de La Valli;re’s lover, I will flirt with the Princess, I will share secrets with Colbert, I will put on a mask of severity towards Fouquet, but only for a little while! Only until you and I are sure that everything has gone perfectly. We will not give grounds for any doubts about me! Everyone will see me as Louis XIV , even myself. If Louis had lost a finger or a tooth yesterday, I would have to do the same to myself this morning. And I would do it, believe me, even if I had to do it myself! I have enough determination for this.” I'm simply afraid of showing gallantry to the Queen in a way that isn't exactly the form and style to which she's accustomed. Will a woman who considers me her husband see through me? I'll try to be considerate of one who considers me her lover, but won't she be surprised by the change in me? After all, I don't know exactly how Louis will behave in such circumstances!
“Say you’re sick and a little out of sorts, that will be enough to explain all the inevitable discrepancies,” I replied.
"But isn't it weakness to feign illness on the very first day when I'm finally free and able to act?" Philip asked. "This weakness is ridiculous and unworthy of a future King!"
"Not the future King, but the actual King you have become today, Your Majesty," I replied, bowing to encourage him and accustom him to such bows, which would now be frequent. "Believe me, if you yourself believe that you are the King, no one will dare doubt it. The greatness of any person stems from their awareness of their own greatness; this determines everything. A deity who behaves like Mercury, merely acting as a courier, or like Vulcan, playing the role of a cuckold, will never be a true deity, whereas Zeus behaved more than defiantly, and by this alone he was head and shoulders above all the other gods of Olympus. He decided for himself that everything was permitted to him, and no one dared to contradict him. Be the same, but gradually."
“I understand everything,” Philip replied. “Thank you for this lesson.”
“Then take the second step, show your courtiers yourself, the King, the ruler of France,” I replied.
"Just one more question, " Philip continued. "Tell me, Bishop, will I be able to find the lady I've seen several times, and whom I seem to truly love?"
"Wait a week or two, and any lady in France will be yours," I replied. "If the lady is of noble rank, the intimacy will happen naturally, you only have to wish it. If she is not of high rank, I advise you to first make her noble, and then approach her. It is within your power to make her as noble as you like and place her above all other ladies in the kingdom."
“This lady is from the house of Marshal de Gramont,” said Philippe.
"How awful!" I thought. "It turns out Catherine Charlotte de Grammont was dating Philippe! What idiots were guarding him! What astounding incompetence! Well, now, it probably doesn't matter, but I'll have to somehow neutralize Mademoiselle de Grammont, or make her Philippe's mistress. Or both, first the latter, then the former. A convent, for example, where she won't be able to let the cat out of the bag."
"I can guess who you're talking about, Your Majesty," I replied. "Your case, I believe, is not hopeless, but we'll leave that for later. For now, you should prepare to meet your relatives for breakfast, after which we'll head to the Louvre."
“I have absolutely no appetite, and I would like to go to the Louvre as soon as possible,” Philip replied.
“Your will is law at court, but in that case you’ll force everyone else to go to the Louvre without breakfast,” I said. “Have mercy on your subjects and give them the opportunity to satisfy their morning hunger, to perk up for the journey. Feed them at Fouquet’s expense. He’s already borne the expense. Good food improves one’s spirits, and Fouquet’s food will be exquisite, I assure you. Well-fed and contented people will serve you better and will pay less attention to the differences between you and Louis, should they become apparent, which, I fear, we cannot avoid. Moreover, Monsieur Fouquet’s kitchen is overseen by Fran;ois Vatel himself, the most renowned chef of all time in France, and France sets the culinary tone throughout Europe. His famous Chantilly cream is a champion among desserts. And his other dishes will be long remembered. I recommend you try them, Your Majesty; you won’t regret it.” Even I, who try to eat little, will try a little of each of these dishes, for this is not food, it is a harmony of taste and a pleasure for the senses.
"You've convinced me, I'll have breakfast," Philippe said decisively. "But after breakfast, we'll head off to the Louvre immediately."
"That would be the most sensible thing to do," I agreed. "At the Louvre, Monsieur Seguier will seal your order to send the person you know to Pignerol, and we will finally be free of all worries on this matter."
As expected, the breakfast was magnificent. I remembered that I hadn't done justice to Vatel's skill the previous day, having been too busy with all these other matters, and I had barely had a bite to eat all day. My extreme excitement had drowned out my hunger, the call of nature giving way to the call of an excited heart and a heated brain. Now, however, I calmed down somewhat and paid tribute to Vatel's cuisine. I think I even ate such a hearty breakfast that it could have replaced both lunch and dinner, as it subsequently did.
As we headed to the Louvre, I looked around for d'Artagnan, but he was nowhere to be found. His place was occupied by a deputy named d'Arlencourt.
"Chevalier d'Arlencourt, could you tell me where your lieutenant and commander, Monsieur d'Artagnan, has disappeared to?" I asked him.
"I'm on duty, Monseigneur," d'Arlencourt replied. "You were a musketeer yourself, and you understand that we shouldn't answer such questions to civilians. But I know you're a friend of Monsieur d'Artagnan's, and so I'll just say that you needn't worry; he's well and on an important mission for His Majesty."
“Thank you, my friend, that’s more or less what I understood,” I answered him with a radiant smile.
I wanted to ask Philippe what mission he'd given d'Artagnan, but firstly, approaching him and asking him at this time would have been a great risk; the courtiers weren't yet accustomed to me being his closest adviser. Secondly, I remembered perfectly well that d'Artagnan could only see Philippe today in my presence, so Philippe couldn't have said anything I hadn't heard.
"Ah, yes!" I remembered. "In order to send d'Artagnan away, Philippe recommended that he critically examine the list of officers assigned to Belle-Ile! He should have sent him there for a second inspection! He should have come up with an assignment for the cunning Gascon himself, instead of leaving it to Philippe's discretion! But why do I see Fouquet, but not d'Artagnan next to him? That's a bad sign. After all, it means d'Artagnan has gone somewhere on his own initiative! The last thing I want today is for d'Artagnan to show any initiative!"

Chapter 262

The courtiers didn't miss the King's somewhat unexpected behavior. Many were already aware of his new infatuation and expected Louis to renew his gallant attacks on Mademoiselle de La Valli;re's impregnability, and that the fortress of her honor, not so strong, if not already breached, would certainly be breached now, when everything was so conducive to romanticism and bold and unexpected actions. After all, they all felt for a time like they were in some mysterious Arabian fairy tale, where wishes are fulfilled before they even occur to them, so great was Monsieur Fouquet's considerateness, ingenuity, and extravagance. Queen Maria Theresa, of course, didn't expect any displays of affection or attention from her husband, but she rightly expected him to observe outward propriety. King Louis was not yet so self-assured as to openly favor his favorite in front of his wife.
The Queen Mother also sympathized with her daughter-in-law, who was also her niece twice over – through her husband’s brother and sister.
Philippe had to feign a slight cold to avoid lengthy explanations and conversations with his relatives. This explained his hasty departure, his lack of attention to his new mistress, and his almost complete disregard for the Queen. And, above all else, it explained his silence on the way to the Louvre, as well as his thoughtfulness and even a touch of sadness. Philippe, in fact, greedily surveyed the landscape from the carriage window. This was his own country now; everything around him belonged to him, the King of France. This had to be not only understood but also felt. He drank in the landscapes, the country houses, the fields, meadows, and forests, examined the houses in the cities, and even peered at every passerby on the street, trying to imagine who they were, what their thoughts were, and what they thought of their King.
Meanwhile, d'Artagnan was preparing a plan to switch Philippe back to Louis without attracting anyone's attention, without causing a fuss, without anyone even noticing the substitution. In fact, he decided to implement my plan, but in reverse. Of course, the bedroom came to mind, replacing the false King with the King during sleep. The King's Musketeer commanded the royal guard, so it would seem that this plan was well within his capabilities. But a somewhat different hierarchical structure was established around the royal bedroom. So there was something to consider.
"Your Majesty," he said, "we will proceed on the assumption that no one will discover your secret. But since there is already one person who is certainly privy to this secret, nothing terrible will happen if we turn to him for help."
"You mean to tell me that there's a man in the Louvre who's been privy to a secret all this time, a secret even I knew nothing about?" Louis exclaimed.
"There are at least three such people," replied d'Artagnan. "First, your mother; second, the one who freed your brother, captured you, and placed him in your place; and third, the lady who will help us."
"She's not connected to criminals?" the King asked warily.
“I don’t think so, although she was once connected with many conspiracies, and even organized most of them herself,” answered d’Artagnan.
"You're talking about the Duchess de Chevreuse!" the King guessed. "You're right! Let's go to her! I'll hide with her for now!"
"Brilliant!" exclaimed d'Artagnan, pretending that the thought that had occurred to him a little earlier was only now the first to illuminate His Majesty's bright mind.
The flattered Louis perked up a little.
The Duchess de Chevreuse never locked the doors of her apartments, which were located in the Louvre, but in a different wing.
However, d'Artagnan did not rule out the possibility that this lady might have guests, so he knocked delicately on the door.
"Come in, I'm not locked!" the Duchess replied.
"So she's alone," d'Artagnan said to the King. "Your Majesty, allow me, in violation of etiquette, to enter first, and you wait behind the first door. She needs to be prepared for a surprise."
"That's absolutely not necessary," Louis dismissed. "She wouldn't be alarmed by my appearance, even if she thought I was dead. That lady has incredibly strong nerves."
Having said this, Louis resolutely entered first through the first doors, then, having passed through a small reception room, through the second doors, where he found the Duchess in her home clothes, that is, in that charming negligee that hid everything that revealed her age, but left to the view everything that still retained its freshness and seductiveness.
"Ah, Your Majesty!" exclaimed the Duchess, rising quickly from her chair and making a respectful curtsy.
"I beg you, Duchess, be quiet!" Louis replied. "Sit down and listen to me."
Seeing that the Duchess was hesitating, Louis himself sat down in the empty chair and made a gesture indicating that the Duchess should sit down.
"Come in, d'Artagnan!" said Louis.

Chapter 263

Captain d'Artagnan entered, but remained at the door, which allowed him to simultaneously hear what was being said in the Duchess's room and even take part in the conversation, but also to prevent anyone from eavesdropping at the door of the reception room, the outer doors of which he had closed, just in case, with a bolt that had probably not been used since the time it was installed.
"Duchess," said the King, "you and your mother have kept from me a secret which I ought to have known."
"Your Majesty, your mother the Queen's secrets remain the Queen's secrets!" exclaimed the Duchess de Chevreuse. "I don't know what secret you're talking about, but I suspect Her Majesty hasn't decided to tell you everything she knows. Still, if you're interested in any of her personal secrets, you'd better ask her."
"I will do so next time," Louis replied. "But now I have already been privy to this secret, and privy to it so rudely, unceremoniously, and savagely that to call it violence, an attempt, a crime, would be to greatly understate the guilt of the scoundrels who committed it."
The Duchess only turned her head slightly, an expression of surprised attention appeared on her face, but she said nothing.
“We’re talking about my brother,” said Louis.
"Didn't he go with you to Vaux-le-Vicomte?" asked the Duchess.
"I'm not talking about Philip, but about my other brother, my twin brother!" the King clarified.
"Oh, that's it!" said the Duchess. "Well, I promised the Queen that I wouldn't tell anyone about this. Should I really break my promise?"
“You didn’t tell me anything, I found out everything myself, so I’m only interested in those details that will help restore the status.” quo , Louis replied.
“Well, in that case, I suppose I can consider myself free from that promise,” de Chevreuse agreed. “Your twin brother was named Louis-Philippe, so he shares the same name with both you and your younger brother, the Duke of Orleans. Cardinal Richelieu convinced your father, Louis XIII , that two heirs to the throne, each with equal rights, would be too dangerous for France. Perhaps in some wild country, two kings on the throne would be perfectly acceptable, but not in a France divided into various duchies and marquisates, where nobles and grandees feel not only the rightful rulers of their ancestral lands, but also believe that, by virtue of their nobility, they have a legitimate claim to the throne of France. Take the Dukes of Lorraine, for example! They consider themselves no worse than the King of Navarre, so the throne of France has slipped away almost from under their very noses.” If Henry of Lorraine had survived and outlived Henry III of Valois, he, not your grandfather, might have become King of France, and he would have been called exactly the same, Henry IV , only not Bourbon, but Guise. The history of France's royal dynasties might have been different. Richelieu understood this perfectly. One of the brothers could have been used by conspirators to overthrow the other, France would have been plunged into a protracted civil war, and it is completely unknown which side would emerge victorious. As a rule, the most brazen, the most unceremonious, and the most brutal party prevails in such cases—the one that spares no means, is willing to commit crimes to achieve its goals, and regards the interests of the state as nothing, striving only for personal power. This entire scene of chaos flashed before the great cardinal's eyes. He might have been able to curb the rebellion if he had been confident of surviving to see your reign. But he understood that his time was short, and as one of the few people who thought not only about what was happening to themselves but also about what would happen in his kingdom after God called him to Himself, the cardinal understood that the legal existence of two equal heirs could not be allowed. Killing the king's son, of course, was unacceptable. Therefore, he had to be hidden, the secret of his birth concealed from everyone. And so it was done. The Queen Mother wept over her second son, born a quarter of an hour after the first, and bid him farewell forever. Now that I have told you all I know, will you allow me to inquire how you came to be privy to this secret?
"It's very simple!" replied Louis. "I was kidnapped while I was sleeping peacefully in my bed at Vaux-le-Vicomte and placed in the Bastille. I thought they would miss me in the morning and hoped they would find me and release me, but nothing of the sort happened. That morning, Captain d'Artagnan arrived for me, somehow guessing that someone very similar to me, but not me, was in my place. He also guessed where to look for me, found me, and somehow, unknown to me, managed to convince the jailers to release me without telling them who I was.
"Rene!" cried the Duchess. "The scoundrel! How dare he!"
"Do you know the name of my kidnapper?" asked Louis.
The Duchess met d'Artagnan's gaze, saw a thousand flashes of lightning in it, and shook her head.
“No, Your Majesty,” she replied.
"But you did mention Ren;'s name, didn't you?" the King insisted.
“Ah, that…” the Duchess replied with a smile. “My father, the Duke of Rohan, taught me that curse word. He had a steward named Ren; who was sometimes caught in minor misdeeds. Then my father would scold him, saying, ‘Ren;, you rascal!’ Gradually, it became a saying, and he began to say it to all the other servants who had misbehaved. Even when a hunting dog once lost a boar, he said to him, ‘You rascal, Ren;!’ and everyone laughed, even Ren;, who was present. So in our family, whenever we wanted to scold someone, we used to say, ‘You rascal, Ren;.’ Do you see how simple it all is?”
“Okay, so you don’t know the kidnapper’s name,” said Louis, who didn’t believe a single word the Duchess said, but decided not to show it.
"I can't even imagine who it could be!" the Duchess replied, and glanced at d'Artagnan's face in a way that meant, "You see, I didn't give him away!"
"I will find out anyway, and you will have no role in this investigation," said Louis. "I require shelter. The court will arrive from Vaux-le-Vicomte at any moment, led by the usurper. Monsieur d'Artagnan has rightly judged that publicity of what has happened is completely undesirable. I must hide in the Louvre until everyone goes to bed, after which I will enter the usurper's bedroom and take the place that was stolen from me, and Monsieur d'Artagnan will do with the usurper what his duty requires."
"But you won't execute him?" the Duchess exclaimed.
"What kind of execution can we talk about if I decided to hide this crime from everyone?" the King replied.
"I hope he won't be killed secretly?" asked the Duchess.
"You seem to sympathize with the state criminal and pity him?" Louis asked coldly.
"I sympathize with your mother, the Queen, and her son. I believe that a person of royal blood is sacred and inviolable," the Duchess replied. "If fate decrees that he remain in prison, then let him return there, but only God has the right to raise his hand against the son of the King."
"I am prepared to respect your prejudices and even, to a certain extent, share your respect for the life of this prince, but nothing more," Louis replied coldly. "Even if his rights were initially equal to mine, although, as you yourself admitted, I am half an hour older than him, still, only I was crowned king, while no one ever crowned him. My accession to the throne was sanctioned by the Pope and the Royal Council."
"That is true, Your Majesty," the Duchess agreed. "I will help you reclaim what is rightfully yours alone. You are at my disposal, you command me. I am merely your humble subject."
"First of all, Duchess, tell me why you never doubted for a second that I was Louis, and not Louis-Philippe, the King's brother?" asked Louis.
"But you came with d'Artagnan!" exclaimed the Duchess de Chevreuse. "And the one d'Artagnan brought to me is the real King."
"But couldn't d'Artagnan himself have been mistaken about me?" Louis asked in surprise.
"D'Artagnan?! Mistaken?!" the Duchess exclaimed. "No, never! If only he had intended it himself. No, impossible!"
"Did you come up with this yourself?" the King asked, becoming wary.
At this moment d'Artagnan burst into such Homeric laughter that the Duchess and even the King himself involuntarily began to laugh with him.
“Forgive me, Your Majesty,” said d’Artagnan, wiping away the tears in the corners of his eyes with the edge of his glove, which had appeared after his unexpected laughter.
"Nothing, nothing," replied the King. "I, too, find the Duchess's idea that you, Monsieur d'Artagnan, are capable of betraying your King ridiculous."

Chapter 264

Philippe arrived at the Louvre as a king. His entire retinue saw him as Louis XIV , while his closest associates, such as the Queen, the Queen Mother, Philippe d'Orl;ans, and Mademoiselle de La Valli;re, were kept away for the duration of the journey.
Arriving at the Louvre, Philippe announced that he was still feeling unwell and wished to rest after his journey. First, he summoned Chancellor S;guier, who sealed his decree imprisoning the prisoner in the fortress of Pignerol. He was handed over incognito to the guard of Lord Baron du Valon, and he appointed the Bishop of Vannes as his final escort before his imprisonment.
"The Bishop has shown extraordinary mercy; he is concerned about the fate of this poor man, for whom he interceded and for whom he negotiated the most lenient conditions," Philippe explained to the astonished chancellor. "Don't be surprised, Monsieur Seguier. This man is of great rank, a foreign grandee who is involved in extremely dangerous activities. His crime is grave; he should have been executed, but given his high birth and the intercession of the Bishop of Vannes, his sentence will be mitigated. He will be sent to Pignerol and will be kept there at the treasury's expense in very acceptable conditions; he will want for nothing."
The Chancellor bowed and affixed his seal to the order.
I took this order and left.
I didn't need to take poor Jean Hers far. Frankly, I didn't care about him at all. But I had to convince Philippe that Louis XIV was where Philippe himself had placed him. This would give him a feeling of complete security, and his ignorance of Louis's true whereabouts gave me room to maneuver. So I decided to play this card to the end, and so, with Porthos, I decided to take Jean Hers to Pignerol. I hoped to do it quickly and return to Philippe as soon as possible to direct his actions and thus effectively rule France.
"Well, my dear Porthos," I said, returning to his carriage, where he rode alongside Jean Hers, who hadn't removed his mask or left the carriage for the entire journey. "We'll take this young man where he'll remain for a while longer, wanting for nothing, enjoying delicious food and complete idleness, after which we'll return to the Louvre to receive your patent for the duchy."
Porthos beamed like a brand-new louis d'or with the joy my words had evoked. I sincerely believed these weren't empty promises, but rather what would happen upon our return to the Louvre.
We rushed to Pignerol in Porthos's carriage.
Meanwhile, Philippe had dined, spent the time between lunch and dinner reading the papers that Colbert had brought him, and went to bed.
D'Artagnan entered the chambers of the Duchess de Chevreuse without knocking.
“Your Majesty, it’s time now,” he said.
"You won't even light a candle?" asked Louis.
“That’s unnecessary, I can see in the dark like a cat, and you just follow me, and if you deign to lean on my arm, you won’t fall,” replied d’Artagnan.
"And if we meet one of the night footmen, what shall we tell them?" asked Louis.
“I have a pretty good fable in store for them; it will be enough for Your Majesty to confirm that everything I have said corresponds to your will,” replied d’Artagnan.
The wing in which the Duchess's chambers were located was deserted, and they passed it unhindered, as well as the passage to the royal family wing.
But in this wing they immediately came across one of the vigilant night footmen.
"Eugene, come here!" d'Artagnan said quietly but insistently.
"Mr. Captain!" Eugene replied.
"Quiet," d'Artagnan replied. "The night guard schedule is different today." "His Majesty, you know, recently read an Arabian tale about a certain Prince Haroun al-Rashid. Do you know that tale?"
“No, Monsieur d’Artagnan,” answered Eugene.
"It's a shame and a shame not to know your King's favorite fairy tale," d'Artagnan replied. "Find a copy today and read it. So, this highly respected and, to everyone except you, Eugene, well-known Eastern Prince had the habit of wandering around his domains at night incognito. Do you understand, Eugene?"
"Like Emperor Caligula?" asked Eugene.
"Pshaw, Eugene, how dare you compare some pagan with our most Christian King?" d'Artagnan grew angry. "I'm telling you about Prince Haroun al-Rashid, he's a Muslim Prince, that's a completely different matter. We are friends with Muslims. Sometimes. Not all of them, but they're not pagans! So, my friend, His Majesty would like to take a stroll today. Not all of Paris, mind you, and not even the courtyard of the Louvre, but just a few of the Louvre's corridors. A stroll wherever chance suggests, or perhaps wherever his heart leads. Is everything clear?"
“I think I understand,” Eugene answered and smiled.
"You are not supposed to understand anything, Eugene. You are supposed to understand only one thing—that you understood nothing, but showed complete obedience!" d'Artagnan replied sternly. "By the way, that's a fine phrase! Even now, you are supposed to know nothing, except that you are supposed to know nothing! I'll take that on board. So, Eugene, I see the remnants of doubt in your face."
“Understand me correctly, Captain, at night near the King’s chambers I obey only the King,” Eugene replied.
"Exactly so, Eugene!" agreed d'Artagnan. "And your King dismisses all the footmen until five o'clock this morning. Until six o'clock. You are to dismiss them all and send them out within fifteen minutes. Within ten minutes. And so that you have no doubts, let us go into the light."
D'Artagnan took Eugene by the arm and led him to the nearest candelabra.
"Your Majesty, could you please come closer to the light?" he said in a velvety voice, addressing the darkness.
A moment later, the King appeared from the darkness.
"Eugene, did you hear everything?" asked Louis.
"Yes, Your Majesty!" Eugene replied, seeing the King and almost speechless, not expecting to see him here, among the galleries, when, in everyone's opinion, he had long since been asleep in his bed.
"So what are you standing there for, you idiot?" the King asked with a kind smile. "Do as Captain tells you. Nine minutes left."
"Yes, Your Majesty!" Eugene exclaimed and rushed to carry out the King's order.
Eight minutes later, there was not a single person left in the galleries near the King's bedroom except the King and d'Artagnan.
“And now, Your Majesty, it is time for you to return to your chambers, and for me to take the usurper to the Bastille.”
"But you don't have my order!" the King was surprised. "I can certainly write and sign the order, but I myself issued a decree that orders without the Chancellor's seal are invalid."
"You are right, Your Majesty, but the fact is that I have such an order," replied d'Artagnan. "In fact, I actually had two orders, signed by you. One order was to imprison the Marquis de l'Inconnu; in the Bastille, and the other was to release him. Incidentally, I have already used the second order to free you from the Bastille. The accompanying order will serve to place your brother there. Even if we allowed the jailer to see your face, he would recognize that I was returning the same man I had previously freed. But since he saw you in a mask, we will place that same mask on Prince Louis-Philippe, so that the impression of a prisoner returning to his former place will be complete."
“So, d’Artagnan, you had two orders from me that you did not carry out,” the King said gloomily.
- I fulfilled them exactly.
"Why did you keep the order for yourself?" asked the King.
“I forgot to give them back, Your Majesty,” replied d’Artagnan.
"Why didn't you destroy the orders?" the King persisted.
“I wouldn’t have the courage to tear up a paper that bears Your Majesty’s signature and the state seal,” replied d’Artagnan.
"Why didn't you return these papers to me or the chancellor?" asked Louis.
"Is Your Majesty so concerned with collecting papers that have lost their power and significance?" asked the cunning Gascon. "And should Chancellor Seguier even be bothered with such trifles? Let's say I intended to give him these papers when the opportunity presented itself, but the opportunity never presented itself, and then I simply forgot about them. Your Majesty, do not judge me for this forgetfulness! After all, without these papers, I could not have helped you in the deplorable state in which the conspirators have placed you!"
“That’s true, Monsieur d’Artagnan, everything turned out for the better, I agree, but from now on, I ask you, please, be more careful with important state papers,” the King replied.
"I will certainly improve," d'Artagnan exclaimed. "I have already begun to improve, and I can truly feel myself becoming a different person. But we are wasting time."
"Never mind, we have plenty of time. You yourself ordered no one to appear here until six in the morning," said the King. "And now it's only one in the morning. Let my brother sleep for an extra ten or fifteen minutes as King. It won't do much harm. His awakening will be all the more unexpected. Come on."
They entered the King's bedroom.
Louis looked at his sleeping brother for a moment, amazed at the striking resemblance to his own face, which he recognized from often looking in the mirror. Then he placed his hand on his brother's forehead.
"Louis-Philippe, wake up!" he said imperiously.
Philip shuddered and opened his eyes.
"You have conceived and carried out an evil deed," said Louis. "I bear you no ill will and I forgive you, my unfortunate brother, but you can no longer remain in the palace. The Captain will take you to where you are destined to remain from now on and forever."
“I was just trying to get back what was rightfully mine,” Philip replied.
“The captain will explain to you some of the subtleties of French laws and refute your words on the way to the Bastille, but now go, I’m dead tired and want to sleep,” Louis answered coldly.
"You won't even talk to me?" Philippe exclaimed. "Perhaps there are still a few drops of justice left in your heart, a drop of pity for your unfortunate brother, whose only fault is that he was born a few minutes after you? If I had been born a year later, I would now be the Duke of Orleans, officially listed as your brother, the son of my father and mother!"
"I would have spoken to you, my brother, if our meeting had not begun with a crime," the King replied. "Your accomplices committed violence against their King. You and your accomplices criminally entered my bedroom, kidnapped me, and threw me into the Bastille without explanation of my guilt!"
"The same thing was done to me!" Philip exclaimed.
"It's not my fault," Louis replied. "This was done by our parents, without our knowledge, and we are not responsible for their actions. You, however, are obliged to answer for your own. After all, you encroached on the rightful King, crowned and anointed. After my coronation, all your claims to the throne are illegitimate."
“What will happen to me?” Philip asked.
"Nothing worse than what happened to you before," the King replied. "I have already said that I forgive you, so your fate will be as our father determined, and as our mother also agreed and resigned herself to."
"I never even got to see her!" Philip exclaimed.
"Then you will have no one to grieve for," replied Louis. "Accept your fate, my brother, and bear me no ill will, just as I bear you no ill will."
“That will be a little more difficult,” Philip answered.
"Who knows?" Louis retorted. "How can we know who suffers more—the one who has spent his entire life in captivity, never knowing freedom, or the one who was King but was suddenly transformed into a prisoner in a single moment, and was told that he would remain one for the rest of his life? Can you say that the fate you and your accomplices have prepared for me is easier than the fate I reserve for you?"
“I don’t know,” Philip admitted.
"The Lord is in charge of us all, and we are not given the right to make claims upon Him," Louis replied. "Believe me, my brother, I have already come to love you, my brother, and I already suffer for you, I grieve for your fate. But I have no right to change anything in it. Give me your hand as a sign of your forgiveness, as I give you mine in recognition of your rights as Prince, and as a sign of my sorrow that I can do nothing to help you regain those rights. Such is fate."
"Perhaps I could ask for the right to simply live a private life somewhere far from France, far from Europe, simply to be free and happy?" Philippe asked.
"If such an opportunity presented itself, and if it did not threaten civil war, the death of hundreds of thousands of innocent people, carried away by the deceptions and ideas of one party or another, I assure you, I would agree to it," Louis replied. "If such an opportunity presents itself, I will remember you, my brother. And now, farewell. D'Artagnan, give Philippe the mask. I, your King, command you, Philippe, to wear this mask at all times, except when you are in your cell and no one sees you. I promise you that if there is the slightest suspicion that you will attempt to repeat your crime against me, against the legitimate King of France, you will be destroyed." I order Monsieur d'Artagnan to kill you if you give even the slightest reason to suspect you of intending to reveal your identity, call for help, or escape the fate I have decreed for you. Do you understand me, my brother?
“I understand you, Your Majesty,” said Philip.
"I do not require you to name your accomplices, for I hope you have a long life ahead of you, and I do not want you to feel like a traitor for this reason as well," Louis said. "It is enough that you were an accomplice to a conspiracy, a state crime, an attempt on the life of your King. I have already said that I forgive you this crime. Let us embrace one last time as brothers."
Louis opened his arms.
Philip hesitated for a moment, but then he threw himself into Louis's arms and hugged him tightly.
"I've never had any family or friends," he said. "Even a friendly embrace has never comforted me. This is the first time I've embraced someone close, my brother. It's an unforgettable feeling. Well, now at least I'll know I have a brother, that he is the King of France, and therefore my King, too, and I will pray to God for Your Majesty's happy reign."
After this, Philippe obediently put on the mask that d'Artagnan had given him and headed towards the exit of the bedroom, and then out of the Louvre.
Meeting no one on the way, they exited through the front gates of the Louvre, then proceeded to d'Artagnan's carriage and got into it.
"This man, your coachman, has he been sitting on the box this whole time?" Philip asked.
"What time is this?" asked d'Artagnan. "I told him to come at one o'clock. He's only been sitting here for an hour. Don't worry about him; he's well-fed, warmly dressed, and as happy as can be. By the way, he's mute, but not deaf."
"Will you take me back to the Bastille?" Philippe asked.
“You will soon learn about it, Monseigneur,” replied d’Artagnan.
“There will never be another hour of such happiness in my life as I have experienced in the last twenty-four hours,” Philip said sadly.
"No one can know that," d'Artagnan replied philosophically. "As they say, if you want to make God laugh, share your plans for tomorrow with him."
After this, he opened the window to communicate with the coachman.
"Get going! We're going where I told you," he said to the coachman, and the carriage set off.

The end of the sixth book