Memoirs of Aramis, Book 10

Annotation

The ninth book of the fan fiction "The Memoirs of Aramis" tells about the events that took place after Louis XIV secretly returned to the Louvre to reclaim his throne, taken from him by d'Artagnan, who replaced him with his twin brother, Louis-Philippe. Louis was assisted in this attempt by the famous Duchess Marie de Chevreuse, the widow of two dukes, an eternal intriguer, and a former lover of Aramis and many other famous historical figures.
The Duchess had decided to make a decisive attack on the impostor Philippe, to at least disfigure his face, or at least cover it with bruises and bumps, so that he would not look like the King, at least in case he managed to call the guards to his aid. The cunning Duchess waited for a moment when Captain d'Artagnan was not in Paris. She decided to enter the King's study first, carrying a narrow three-sided dagger, called a stiletto. But to her bitter disappointment, she found in the study not only Philippe, but also, above all, the determined author of memoirs, Aramis, who took the Duchess's dagger from her. The Duchess was horrified. Behind the doors, the real King was waiting for her signal to enter the study and take his place when it was vacated by the impostor twin brother Philippe. She may have already realized that she had lost, but the Duchess was not one of those ladies who gave up easily.
Enjoy reading!

Chapter 403

“So, Duchess, you have planned to place an impostor on the throne,” I said. “Taking advantage of the fact that you know the secret of the existence of a man who is extremely similar to His Majesty, you have planned a substitution. This is a state crime. Are you not embarrassed by the thought of what you will face for what you have undertaken?”
"The impostor sits on the throne, and behind this door is the true King of France!" replied the Duchess.
"Do you know this for sure?" I asked. "By what signs did you distinguish the true King from the false? Just by talking to him?"
"He was ready to swear on the Bible about it!" exclaimed the Duchess.
- Ready, but you haven't sworn, have you? - I objected. - And you say this in the presence of your King! Your Majesty, forgive me for my impudence. I beg you, confirm your legal right to reign on this book.
I showed the book to the Duchess. The rich leather cover was decorated with a Catholic cross, embossed in gold.
" Duchess, out of respect for the memory of my late mother the Queen, I beg you to listen to me carefully," said Philippe, laying his hand on the book. "In the sight of God, I assure you of my right to occupy the throne of the King of France. In the sight of God, I swear that Louis is my name, given to me at birth. In the sight of God, I assure you that the place I occupy is mine by right, according to all laws, human and divine.
“Are you satisfied?” I asked the Duchess.
“Have I made a mistake?” whispered the Duchess.
“Yes, Duchess, you were mistaken, and I must correct your mistake,” I replied.
The Duchess was in a very puzzled state, on the verge of shock. Suddenly her face cleared.
- Show me this book! - she demanded. - I understand! This is not the Bible! This is some Jesuit book of yours! Some kind of code of laws and rules of the Order, isn't it?
I went to the table, picked up the book and handed it to the Duchess. She almost snatched it from my hands and immediately opened it at random. Then she began to leaf through it feverishly, and finally glanced at the first page. It was the Bible.
- Duchess, you have once again taken the slippery path of adventure, - said Philippe. - But I do not blame you. You have been deceived. You will be forgiven, but you must actively participate in the matter of stopping the attempted coup d';tat. Give a sign to the one who is waiting behind the door to enter these doors, after him, wait behind the door, but do not go anywhere, stay with Hubert.
“Did you understand everything?” I asked.
“I understand everything, Your Majesty,” said the Duchess, pointedly turning her face and addressing not me, but Philip.
She went out and called Louis. As soon as he entered the office, she slipped behind him and ran out.
"No matter, Hubert has been warned that he must let everyone in today and not let anyone out," I thought. "It's a good thing I ordered ten of d'Artagnan's musketeers, led by Lieutenant d'Arlencourt, to be stationed in the next room."
Louis, who expected to see Philip alone in his study, with a disfigured face, or even stabbed with a dagger, was very surprised to find him unharmed, cheerful and in my company.
“What does this mean?” he asked.
“That means, my dear brother, that you have lost again,” replied Philippe. “I have already reproached Monsieur d’Herblay for being too scrupulous, both he and Captain d’Artagnan. Imagine, they consider it unethical to keep the grandson of Henry IV in prison! Mazarin did not think so, Richelieu even less so, and Captain d’Artagnan is of the same opinion, as is our dear friend d’Herblay, that is, forgive me, the Duke d’Alameda. All this was done behind my back and in violation of my instructions! If my order had been strictly carried out, this not very pleasant meeting for you and for me would not have happened. You would be quietly and peacefully residing in the cozy cell of the fortress of Pignerol, which was intended for me, and I would have had no reason to remember you. Yes, damn it, the best officers, unfortunately, are those who have brains! And officers with brains sometimes prefer disobedience. What a pity!” There is no perfection in the world. You have seen it for yourself. Be that as it may, d'Artagnan is the ideal captain of the king's musketeers, but, as you can see, the closer a person is to the throne, the more inclined he is to conspiracies. You may have noticed this when you read the story of our mother and her friend, the Duchess de Chevreuse, who has just left this room. She, too, has already gone over to my side, have you noticed? Instead of advising you to hide, she invited you here, knowing full well that I was not alone, but with a man who would use his weapon against you without blinking an eye, if necessary. And he is an excellent weapon user, I assure you. Any. And, by the way, he also has the Duchess's stiletto, the Duchess was so kind that she gave it to him without any unnecessary resistance in this situation. Yes, brother, our subjects, as you see, sometimes deceive us, and even the highest among them, those whom we trust as ourselves. But I have already forgiven both, Captain d'Artagnan and the Duke d'Alameda. Their only fault was their excessive respect for our rank as Princes of the Blood. This is not something to be offended by, for it is the supporting structure of our monarchy! D'Alameda, if you have the chance, tell Captain d'Artagnan that I am not angry with him for placing my brother in a monastery instead of Pignerol. After all, he mistakenly believed that those black stripes on his face would never go away. But look how it turned out - over time they completely disappeared!
“You are going to do violence to me again,” Louis said calmly. “I am not surprised. I have failed to regain what is rightfully mine, but I will not renounce my rights. Wherever you hide me, I will live with the thought of escape, and the Lord will hear me. One day I will come here with my faithful people and throw you out of here.”
- As you say, brother, - answered Philip. - I do not object. Every person has the right not to give up and not to lose hope. Only this has supported me all my life, except for the last few months. You will simply return in the state I have determined for you.
"Why do you think you have the right to decide my fate?" asked Louis. "I am your rightful King, and you are only an impostor. You are going against the laws of men and God!"
“If God has given me luck, then it was His decision,” Philippe replied. “However, I am willing to tempt fate once more. Look at this table. Do you see these two books? They have exactly the same covers. The difference is in the details. I have already learned to distinguish one from the other by small, almost indistinguishable signs. One of these books is the Bible, the other is a book that the Duke of Alameda, when he was still Bishop of Vannes, ordered to be placed in exactly the same binding so that he could take it with him on long journeys; it helped him while away the time on the road. You see, he did not want onlookers to know his literary preferences from the cover of this book. A week ago, the Duke gave me both of these books, and I find the second book more interesting, although, of course, less holy, if I may apply such an epithet to it. A few minutes ago, both of these books became historical. On one of them I laid my hand, and the Duchess of Chevreuse turned the other very carefully. So, I propose a wager. If you guess which of the two books is the Bible, you will occupy the throne of France, and I will retire to Pignerol. But if you guess wrong, then I beg you to admit that God is on my side. I only ask you not to harbor anger in your heart against those who have disposed of our destinies as they have disposed of them. You may hate me, it makes no difference to me, since I know that my only guilt before anyone is that I had the impudence to appear in this world, despite the fact that not a single person on this sinful earth needed me, and even wanted me, including my father, my good mother, my good brother, at that moment as foolish as I myself was. So, wager! Point to the Bible from these two books, and if your choice is correct, I will acknowledge your victory!
Louis looked closely at the two books lying on the table in front of him. Both were bound in expensive leather. The cover had a Catholic cross stamped in gold. The books were the same thickness, and even in terms of how well they had been read, they did not differ from each other.
"The Bible is in his right hand," thought Philip. "But he could have put it on his left on purpose! Lord, give me a sign!"
Louis probably expected a butterfly to fly in through the window and land on the Bible, or for the wind to blow the cover off, or perhaps for heavenly fire to burn the wicked book that dared to resemble the Bible with its binding. But nothing happened.
“This one!” said Louis at last, and he placed his hand on one of the books and pulled it towards him.
“You are mistaken, my brother,” Philip replied. “The Bible is the one that remains with me. Look!”
Philip opened the book and Louis was convinced that the book was nothing other than the Bible.
“What do I have then?” he asked.
- A very interesting book, my brother, - answered Philippe. - The Duke of Alameda gave it to me, and I give it to you. It will brighten your loneliness in Pignerol. Time flies while reading this book, believe me! You will be grateful to me for this gift.
Louis opened the book to the first page and read with surprise: “Memoirs of Messire Pierre de Bourdeille, Lord of Brant;me, including the lives of famous men and great foreign commanders, a complete biography of the gallant ladies of the time of Queen Margaret of Navarre, the amorous adventures of Mademoiselle de Sommrange, as well as Mademoiselle Mustelle and her friends.”
"You see that Fate is on my side," Philip continued. "Resign yourself. Put on this mask, the Musketeers must not see your face."
Since the real iron mask was at that time in Pignerol, Philippe offered Louis only a gray cloth mask, but it was quite thick and multi-layered, so that the facial features underneath were impossible to recognize.
I took the stiletto I had taken from the Duchess de Chevreuse from my belt and tested its point with my finger. I had not intended to threaten Louis, but in some cases a kind word and a show of arms are more persuasive than a kind word alone. Louis noticed my gesture and meekly put on his mask. Philippe rang the bell. Lieutenant d'Arlencourt and ten of his musketeers entered the door.
"Take this prisoner to Pignerol immediately," said Philippe. "In a carriage with closed windows. The order for his arrest is with the Duke of Alameda, who will travel with him in the carriage. No conversation with the prisoner on the way. And remember, Lieutenant, this man must be taken to Pignerol and nowhere else."
With these words he looked at me attentively. I nodded.
“Go, the Duke will catch up with you in ten minutes,” said Philip.
The arrested man was taken out, and Philip and I were left alone again.
"Everything happened exactly as you predicted, Duke!" said Philip. "How did you manage to foresee all this in advance?"
“I didn’t foresee everything, some things were simply told to me by my people,” I replied. “You can be sure that I will take him to Pignerol, and not to some other monastery.”
- You know, Duke, although I laid my hand not on the Bible, but on Brant;me's memoirs, I was overcome by timidity, and I did not dare to take a false oath. Everything I said was the pure truth!
- As if? - I asked incredulously. - It didn't seem that way to me!
“I remember very well what I said,” Philippe replied. “I said, ‘In the sight of God, I assure you of my right to occupy the throne of the King of France.’ Have I not a right, as legitimate as my brother’s, to that throne? Our birthrights are absolutely identical! Then I said, ‘In the sight of God, I swear that Louis is my name, the name given to me at birth.’ I was called Louis-Philippe. So Louis, Louis, is my first name. I said, ‘In the sight of God, I assure you that the place I occupy is mine by right, by all laws, human and divine.’ I truly believe so.”
“I agree with you completely on all points,” I said. “I only forgot that you are also called Louis!” Apparently the Duchess de Chevreuse did not take this into account either. It is good that you did not say that you are Louis XIV, for if you took the throne after him, you should have been called Louis XV.
“But I took the throne not after him, but in his place,” Philippe objected. “According to human laws, twin brothers are like one in two persons! So I am still the same Louis XIV.”
“Amen,” I said and crossed Philip.
That is, Louis-Philippe, because that was his full name!

Chapter 404

The Duchess left the office and looked around. She realized that the musketeers were in the next room, as she heard their quiet conversations.
“Now the King will be arrested again and taken to Pignerol,” she thought. “That will be the third time! How stupid of d’Herblay to repeat the same joke for the third time! However, if God loves the trinity, then, consequently, there will not be a fourth time. His Majesty, unfortunately, is too scrupulous. It was necessary to involve Charles IV of Lorraine in this matter. When it comes to power, one should not be greedy. It would have been better for him to be the King of a reduced France than a lodger in a single cell in Pignerol. Just think about giving Alsace and Lorraine to the Duke of Lorraine! Monarchs are sometimes too fatalistically devoted to the idea of the greatness of their own state. Is this really a concern about what kind of inheritance he will leave to his son? And whether his son will live to rule France? All this is still very imprecise, doubtful. They say that a lion, having taken over a pride, kills all the cubs of its predecessor. Philip would not have done that to his son! But still, I played the fool cleverly. I pretended to believe Philip's oath."
Pleased with herself, the Duchess de Chevreuse quietly left the reception room and slipped away to her rooms in the Louvre, which she occupied as the former closest friend of the Queen Mother, granted to her by some decree that everyone had already forgotten except herself. But she clung very tenaciously to the privileges she had won, and no one was given the chance to take them away from her; the only person who could afford to offend her, Cardinal Richelieu, had long since departed to another world.

I went down to the carriage and sat down next to Louis, who was wearing a mask.
"I suppose you won't talk to the prisoner?" d'Arlencourt asked me.
“You are wrong,” I objected. “Conversation with this man is what I will be doing during our entire journey to Pignerol.”
“But His Majesty has ordered: ‘No conversations with the prisoner,’” the lieutenant tried to object.
- That's right, no talking to the prisoner, but this order concerned you, not me, - I answered. - Familiarize yourself with this document.
I handed d'Arlencourt the order signed by Philippe. His signature "Louis" was perfect, and, in addition, the order was sealed with the seal of Chancellor Seguier.

"The King's Command
The prisoner in the mask, named Eustache Dauger, accompanied by Monsieur d'Herblay, Duke of Alameda, is to be escorted under guard to the fortress of Pignerol and handed over to the special custody of the commandant of the fortress, Monsieur de Saint-Mars. He is to be ordered to treat the prisoner as a person of the rank of marquis, with all respect and honor. The said Eustache Dauger is to be placed in rooms numbered twenty-eight, for which purpose the prisoner Marchiali is to be evicted from them. Marchiali is to be transferred to a cell and henceforth to be treated as the most ordinary prisoner, and is to be deprived of his improved allowance. Improved allowance is to be assigned to the said prisoner Eustache Dauger. All instructions concerning the wearing of the Iron Mask are to be extended to Eustache Dauger, and all restrictions on this matter are to be lifted from Marchiali.
During the entire period of Eustache Dauger's escort to Pignerol, any conversation or other form of communication between this prisoner and any of the escort, including the senior officer, is to be excluded, with the exception of the Duke d'Alameda, who must remain constantly with the prisoner Eustache Dauger and is allowed to converse with him on the condition that no one else will be privy to this conversation and will be deprived of any opportunity to hear it. The Duke d'Alameda must fulfill these conditions.
Signed: Louis of France."
 
XIV sometimes used to sign his orders and decrees.

“I beg your pardon, Duke, you are certainly right,” said Lieutenant d’Arlencourt and returned the paper to me.
“Nobody asked me if I wanted to talk to you,” grumbled a dissatisfied Louis.
“It’s entirely at your disposal,” I replied. “If you prefer to ride in silence, we will ride in silence.”
"Why have you become involved in this matter?" asked Louis. "I mean this trip. Do you hope to learn some secrets from me? Or to gain my favor in case I manage to regain my throne?"
"I doubt if you will believe my answer," I said. "For me you are still the King of France, only temporarily removed from power by the forces of circumstances and the efforts of men who sometimes have the audacity to correct circumstances in their favor. I believe that you have already realized your mistake, which consisted in not attaching any importance to the friendship of four men who decided the fate of France long before you were born. Perhaps you would not have acted so if you had known all the consequences of your persecution of four friends, four former musketeers, who will remain musketeers to the end of their days, since musketeers are never former.
"What is the use of raking up the past for a man who has been deprived of a future?" asked Louis. "You have dethroned me from the pinnacle of power and reduced me to nothingness for the second time. Why should you delve into my soul?"
“You, Your Majesty, have been brought up from childhood to become a worthy ruler of the greatest empire in Europe,” I replied. “Your no less noble brother, on the contrary, has been brought up in no way, for the best he could hope for was long years of confinement, without friends, without society, without purpose, and without the pleasures available to even the poorest peasant. If he had once been able to change his life, it would be cruel to deprive him of it by placing him back in prison, in a castle from which there would be no escape. At the same time, the youth may develop false ideas about his destiny, about how he should use his power. He may want to indulge in pleasures, completely shifting all state duties to people trusted to him. If these people are worthy of this trust, there is nothing wrong with this. But the experience of history teaches that trusted persons are sometimes chosen not at all on the basis of merit, but on the basis of, I would say, their attractiveness to the monarch, in all senses, or in some very specific ones. Your royal father, Louis XIII, trusted Cardinal Richelieu, making him first minister, but from time to time he elevated to the highest rank people who were completely unworthy. Such were de Luynes, Saint-Simon, Saint-Mars and others. So the time of his reign was filled with conspiracies, intrigues, and also death executions of exposed conspirators. We would not like the return of these constant upheavals. It can be said that the Fronde, which you witnessed, was also nurtured by those small and unsuccessful conspiracies in which the opposition to the monarchical power was born and united. When death freed the conspirators from their main enemy, Cardinal Richelieu, they dared to raise their hand against the legitimate sovereign and rebel against him.
"I believe you, Duke, were also one of this cabal of conspirators?" asked Louis. "Do you really think I don't remember that? To what end do you now speak so disrespectfully of your comrades? Do you really want to seem better than you are in my eyes, now that it means absolutely nothing to you?"
“You have no reason to suspect me of selfish lies now,” I objected. “And so I can freely express my opinion. You are right, of course. For a time I was also carried away by the idea of influencing the monarchical system, which was formally headed by your august mother Queen Anne, and for which I would always be ready to give my last drop of blood. But we did not like Cardinal Mazarin, and we did not like even more that his power was growing stronger every day, while the power of all the other grandees was gradually turning into nothing. We only wanted Mazarin’s resignation. But I agree that this desire was, perhaps, unfounded. Just as a little child cries when it is washed and swaddled, at the same time all this is done for its own good, so that it can sleep better and not get sick. Yes, Mazarin was a cure for France, but at that time it seemed to us that this cure was worse than the disease itself. Now I do not think so. But, mind you, we only had a little sympathy for the Fronde in its early and rather harmless phase, and then you moved so far away from it that you eventually joined the Queen's party, and through our efforts a peace agreement was reached between the Fronde and the royalists, so that we brought peace and tranquility to France. This sounds presumptuous, I know. But believe me, I am telling the truth.
“I do not believe in your friendliness,” Louis replied. “Besides, what friendliness can a jailer show to the legitimate ruler of the state whom he has illegally arrested? And what friendliness can you expect from me? Even the Duchess de Chevreuse did not intercede for you! She begged me, in case of a successful return to the throne, not to persecute d’Artagnan, du Valon, and even more ardently begged me not to do any harm to the Marquis de La F;re and the Comte de Bragelonne. Not a word about you. Even when I reminded her of you, she only smirked and said that she had no intention of interceding for you with me.”
"Perhaps the Duchess knows that I need no protection from you, in whatever capacity you may attack me," I replied. "If you had succeeded in regaining the throne this time, it would not have affected me."
“Where does such self-confidence come from?” asked Louis.
"That is of no importance," I replied. "What is important is that you remain in confinement until you realize that you should not harm my friends. The sooner you realize this and accept it as an unchangeable fact, the sooner you will have a chance of reclaiming the throne."
“Let it be known to you that I have already sworn on the Bible not to harm those persons whom we have mentioned in our conversation,” replied Louis. “I did not say this in order to beg you for a better fate, but simply because it is so. You can inquire of the Duchess herself about this. However, my oath is no longer valid, since it was conditional on my return to the throne, which did not happen. But in what way can you promise me my return to the throne? Will you now betray your protege, my unworthy brother?”
“You misunderstood me, sir,” I replied. “I merely spoke of a condition under which your chances of returning would increase, if only for the reason that I would not interfere with you in this matter if these conditions were met. And that, believe me, is no small thing for you. But I see no point in helping you either, and so I make no promises. However, as a politician who is guided by interests that stand far above the state interests of France…”
“What?!” Louis exclaimed.
“Please be quiet, Monseigneur,” I said. “I remind you that no one must hear us. I repeat. As a politician who is guided by interests that stand far above the state interests of France, I do not at all exclude the possibility that it may be expedient and even necessary to return you to the throne under your real name, and, moreover, it will be necessary to do this again quietly, without drawing anyone’s attention to this event. This is the so-called soft coup, if you like.
"You mean to say that you are going to play with European monks like dolls? Shuffle them like cards in a deck?" Louis asked indignantly.
- Exactly so, Monsignor, at last you understood me correctly, - I answered. - I like Philippe, you - not so much. But if, God forbid, some misfortune were to happen to Philippe, and after all, we all walk under God, and nothing is impossible, then in that case your brother, Philippe of Orleans, would inherit the throne. Which I consider extremely undesirable. In that case, I would prefer to return the throne to you, if this misfortune that has happened can be hidden.
"What misfortune are you talking about?" asked Louis, and looked at me intently, as if he were trying to pierce me with his sharp gaze.
"Well, anything could happen," I replied. "An accident, an incurable disease, or sudden madness."
"Why do you think he is in danger?" Louis asked animatedly.
"I don't think he's in danger," I replied. "But I'm not ruling it out. And besides, I haven't mentioned one other possible reason."
“Which one?” asked Louis.
"A sudden change of character, accompanied by extreme disobedience," I said. "In that case, I consider negotiations with you for your return to the throne not only possible, but highly probable."
“But what if this doesn’t happen?” asked Louis.
“I hope that this will never happen,” I replied. “But I cannot rule out anything. Well, if it does not, then you will have to console yourself by reading a most entertaining book by Monsieur Brant;me. I have read it twice. I would have read it a third time, but, alas, I have memorized it almost by heart, so that a third reading would not have given me any pleasure. It is a pity that your brother did not have time to become thoroughly acquainted with it. I believe he only read a few chapters. It was extremely generous of him to give it to you. You see, he understood that a good diversion for the coming months, and most likely years, was much more important to you than to him. While you are reading about the gallant adventures at the court of Marguerite of Navarre, he himself prefers to take part in gallant adventures at his own court. But if he becomes too carried away by them, forgetting affairs of state, I will remind him of his duties.
"May you be damned!" said Louis.
“I forgive you your foul language, for it was said by you under the influence of feelings, but not reason,” I said and crossed Louis.

Chapter 405

Meanwhile, Philippe had become somewhat overly enthusiastic about the external side of his power. He spent incredible amounts of money on mistresses, as well as on clothing and equipment for the musketeers and guards. The number of musketeers was increased to five hundred, but I cannot guarantee that they were all as brave as the musketeers of Treville. In fact, they were divided into two companies, one commanded by Colbert's nephew, the other by d'Artagnan, although formally it was subordinate to the King, that is, to Philippe himself. The musketeers were distinguished by the color of their horses, black and gray, d'Artagnan's were gray.
Philip personally conducted inspections and took parades. Also among the King's troops, it is worth mentioning the guards and the Swiss - mercenaries serving exclusively for money, who left their homeland and their families in the hope of easy pickings. And easy pickings could only be found in war conditions.
Preparations for war were in the air. But while everything was relatively peaceful, the commanders were more concerned with the appearance of their soldiers, their bearing on parade, the neatness and elegance of their clothes, than with combat training. And to an even lesser extent they were concerned with the problems of improving their own knowledge for the best manifestation of their talents as military leaders in a combat situation. Too many outdated regulations for conducting combat had been written and memorized, and too little use was made of new methods, ideas, and experience. No one appreciated my rifled bullets, so that ordinary pistols and muskets did not shoot as accurately, and not as far as individual samples of pistols made to my order. Only the four of us invariably had the best pistols, although they did not look as attractive as, for example, the pistols Buckingham gave d'Artagnan in gratitude for warning him about the danger emanating from Milady, although this warning did not help the brilliant duke.
Even d'Artagnan himself admired the new uniforms of his musketeers; he described them to me in a letter which I still have.

"Do you remember, my dear Aramis, how we had to equip ourselves at our own expense in order to serve under the famous Captain de Treville? I am still ashamed of that awkward, almost yellow horse on which I arrived to conquer Paris! But I wish you to know how dear that horse was to my late father! After all, he gave me the best of them all, the others were even worse. It really wasn't so bad, since it took me from my native Gascony straight to Paris, but in Paris it was nothing but a nuisance to me. I had to sell it for the price of a good hat. Thank God my father didn't know about this deal! And Porthos, who dressed at Madame Coquenard's expense, telling us that he received money from the noble duchess! If any of us has equipped ourselves at the expense of the Duchess, it is you, Aramis, but my humble pen will not discuss this subject. Poor Porthos gilded only the front of his sword belt, and hid the back with a cloak, although the day we met it was incredibly hot! Now, my friend, it is not the same. All my musketeers have horses of the same color, dapple gray, as if selected. You should have seen my latest stallion! He is a beauty! Their uniforms are all made by a workshop under the direction of a single tailor, a specialist in his field. Ma;tre Livre has come up with a delightful uniform. My musketeers now wear cloaks of blue cloth, decorated with silver braided braid, forming two crosses on the back and chest in the shape of the Knights of Malta. These crosses are surrounded by rays embroidered in gold and are located in the center of the monogram of our King! Under these cloaks my musketeers wear doublets of blue camlet with silver embroidery. The blankets of my musketeers' horses are violet, closer to crimson. Four suns are embroidered on the four corners. All the musketeers have magnificent plumes of feathers on their hats. On parade the musketeers wear white plumes. But do you know, my dear Aramis, what can I tell you? These jester's clothes are good for parade. But in battle they will only make my musketeers better targets for cannons firing shrapnel, as well as for the rifles and muskets of the enemy. It is a great pity that in the army it is not customary to wear clothes the color of the soil, or grass, or trees! In a real battle this would not be so important, but during a trench confrontation, and especially during a sortie, or for scouts, such clothes would be much more practical. But maybe I'm wrong! After all, musketeers are cavalry! And cavalry should storm, its purpose is to break and crush the enemy, and for this it would not be superfluous to demoralize him. Well, our blue cloaks with silver crosses and golden rays, horse blankets with royal lilies, harness with shiny rivets and hats with sultans, all this will demonstrate our fearlessness and unity to the enemy! So, overall, I am pleased with the new army uniform.
When I return to the Louvre, we must meet and discuss the situation. It has occurred to me that a novice of one of the monasteries is not so securely immersed in his novitiate, and that one can expect and fear that he will soon be able to leave the monastery by hook or by crook. We must not lose sight of him. However, you are a reasonable man, and I believe that you have not lost sight of him, so perhaps I am in vain warning one who is already vigilant and prudent. At times I think that this novice would have been good in his former position, but what I did was the only way to save my friends. I believe that you understand and accept my decision, since you yourself have taken similar actions.
I can't wait to see you, to embrace you and discuss the situation. Why the hell did the King send me to inspect Lille? So many memories, so many feelings. And the strongest of them is not the most noble. I remember how I burned with the desire to avenge Constance's death. Aramis, my friend, a man should not stoop to revenge! Revenge is rust that corrodes the heart. Athos was right when he said, "I forgive you...", after which he listed far from all of Milady's crimes, as we know. But only those that were directed against him and against us, his friends. The snake's sting should have been torn out, but we should not have done it ourselves. That is what the royal court is for. Yes, I understand that during Richelieu's lifetime we could not have neutralized Milady with the help of a miserable judicial system, which only proclaims justice and the welfare of the people as its goal, but in fact remained and remains a corrupt instrument of those in power against everyone else. But, God, how good, how pure my life would have been if not for the gravity of what I have done, even if it was justified by necessity! After all, I once loved this cruel beauty... It is fortunate that her only descendant, Mordaunt, who inherited all her vileness, but did not inherit a shadow of her external attractiveness, will not rise from the bottom of the sea, will not appear to us, and will not demand an answer from us for our actions. Perhaps he will do this on the other side of the coffin board? Well, we also have something to ask him and his cruel-hearted mother.
Truly, the horseback ride, which always did me good, did not help me in this case, when I visited Lille, this town that has left such a deep mark on our hearts! In mine, at least. I left it with joy, as if I were leaving behind a stinking swamp, but not with its vile fluids, but with the terrible memory that it offends my nature. I breathed deeply the air of the meadows and fields, leaving Lille far behind!
I am writing from a small inn called "Henry's Deer", where I intend to spend the night. Did you know that, according to legend, Henry IV shot a deer nearby that turned out to have two tails? However, I do not believe in these tales, I think that the owner of the inn made this tale up to attract guests. During the day, the inn is an ordinary tavern for travelers. Well, they fed me well, my horse was also fed, which is much more important, they gave me a tiny room with a bed, but they asked for a small price for it, which I am glad about. I embrace you, my dear friend, always yours, d'Artagnan."

“Your Majesty, would you like me to read you d’Artagnan’s letter?” I asked Louis.
"Go to hell with your d'Artagnan," Louis replied, but it seemed to me that there was not a trace of malice or resentment in his tone. He was simply turning into a man resigned to his fate.
And I thought that maybe all those lies I told Louis weren't so meaningless after all?

Chapter 406

“Listen to me carefully, Your Majesty King Louis XIV of France,” I said. “This conversation will be serious, and very important for you, for your future.”
Louis looked at me silently and with distrust.
"I do not represent a private person, nor even my four friends," I said. "I am the General of the Jesuit Order, but that is not all. I have great plans, and great opportunities for their implementation.
Louis looked at me with interest.
- You probably think that you, like a pawn, have been removed from the chessboard, and for this pawn there is no longer anything bright in that very game called "Life"? - I asked. - No need to answer, this is not a question, but an introductory remark. Well, if you think so, and you think exactly so, then you are mistaken!
"A pawn removed from the board interests no one any more," Louis replied. "I am not a chess fan, but I know the rules of the game. The Cardinal sometimes tried to involve me in this empty occupation."
"This occupation is not at all idle, it develops the mind," I objected. "The great Cardinal Richelieu, as you probably know, adored chess and cats. Chess sharpened his mind, and cats maintained his peace of mind and equanimity of spirit.
“Be that as it may, but I don’t like either cats or chess,” replied Louis.
“Perhaps you are comparing yourself with someone or something else,” I said. “I will not argue. But I will only give you a piece of advice. Do not be in a hurry to compare yourself with Charles I of England. You should rather compare yourself with Charles II, his son. But to return to the image with which I began. Now, it happens that a pawn is removed from the chessboard not because it is cut down, but because it has reached the last rank, and the pawn is converted into a queen. So think about the fact that perhaps you are removed from unimportant events only to take part in much more important events, and no longer simply as a King led by fate, who only thinks that he directs events, but as a man who holds Europe in his hand, and directs it by means of invisible but strong threads, just as a comedian at a fair directs by means of the finest threads every movement of his doll, called a marionette?” I repeat, you will become not a puppet, but a puppeteer.
“And you?” asked Ludovic, fixing his gaze on me.
- Oh, no, I don't pretend to be a puppeteer, and I will never agree to be a puppet! - I answered. - My place is in the audience! I will applaud you when your puppets do interesting things, but I will boo you if you fail to cope with your task.
“So, in this performance the main characters are the spectators?” asked Louis.
— The audience is not the main one, they are simply the most independent, because the audience is not afraid that the development of the plot can somehow affect their lives, — I clarified. — Of course, the plot, its embodiment, and the acting - all this affects the emotional state of the audience, the mood with which they will continue to watch the play, or even, perhaps, leave it before the end, — I continued. — The audience is subordinated to what is happening on stage only in terms of their emotions, mood, maybe even conclusions for the future. The audience can influence the fate of the theater, because if not a single spectator comes to the play, the theater will go bankrupt. But the theater can hardly influence the life of the audience too significantly. So, I want to see a good game. I want to bring all of Europe to Catholicism. I am not happy with the fact that in a number of European countries the dominant religion is heresy. You yourself know what countries I am talking about. This includes England, the Ottoman Empire, and some other countries.
“Russia?” asked Louis.
- Oh, no, what are you saying! - I objected with a laugh. - I'm not that stupid. To encroach on Russia, that's absurd. It's like a sable wanting to eat an elephant! No, that's too much. I'm only interested in establishing Catholic peace in Europe. At least for the near future.
"Do you wish to be a greater Catholic than the Pope?" Louis asked sarcastically.
“No, not big,” I replied. “But equal. That is, strictly speaking, my plans are exactly what you said, Your Majesty.”
- Become Pope? - Louis asked in surprise. - Who will nominate you? And besides, as far as I know, you are not even a cardinal yet, and the Pope is flourishing and may God grant him health and longevity!
“I completely agree with you, Your Majesty,” I replied. “I am not yet a cardinal, and the papal seat is not yet vacant. Don’t you think that these two facts taken separately would seem to reduce my chances, but when taken together, it turns out that they do not reduce them in any way? After all, by the time the papal seat is vacant, it will be completely unimportant whether I am a cardinal now or not. What will be important is whether I will be a cardinal by that time. Again, precisely because I am not yet a cardinal, I completely agree with Your Majesty, and I join in wishing His Holiness good health as long as possible. Within certain limits, of course.
“You are either a madman or a very intelligent and extremely influential man,” said Louis.
“What do you think, Your Majesty?” I asked. “Which of these two assumptions seems more credible to you?”
"Judging by the fact that the King of France is your prisoner, and you have not yet been executed, it is difficult to call you mad," said Louis. "At the very least, you are an extremely lucky man."
“Well, well,” I agreed. “Let’s continue our discussion. Do you believe me that I am the General of the Order?”
"It seems that if I express doubts, you will have proof of this," said Louis. "But, as far as I know, the General of the Order is Mr. Oliva."
“I asked Mr. Giovanni Paolo Oliva to take up this post nominally,” I replied. “He is solely concerned with the question of attracting as many believers as possible to our flock, as well as with a few other matters that bore me. I merely coordinate his activities, and in doubtful cases I make the final decision. My sphere of interest is connected with the use of true power for the purposes of true power. Do you understand what I am talking about? All these royal balls, parades, celebrations, diplomatic receptions, presidencies in the Royal Council, the exchange of official letters and credentials - this is tinsel that any monarch engages in, but it has nothing to do with real power. You know this yourself. Approximately the same duties fall to the lot of the official General of the Order. They bore me. I shifted them to Mr. Oliva. And I reserved real power for myself. I suggest you do the same.”
“If I agree, will you return the throne of France to me?” Louis asked.
- Certainly, Your Majesty, but later, - I answered. - By the way, why "if"? Haven't you already expressed your consent? And do you have a choice? I didn't offer one.
“Yes, I agree,” said Louis. “What should I do for this?”
“Don’t worry, everything will be explained to you, you will learn everything, you will be taught everything,” I said. “You will also have to go through some initiation procedures.”
"Something like an oath of allegiance to you personally?" asked Louis.
“Not at all, Your Majesty,” I replied with a smile. “Nothing will be required of you except a promise to remain faithful to the Lord.”
“But the Lord does not give me direct instructions,” Louis objected.
“The Lord gives signs to those who deserve them, and all that remains is to correctly recognize and decipher them,” I answered.
“Who will decipher the signs of the Lord for me?” asked Louis with a grin.
“I am, Your Majesty,” I replied, after which, putting on a sad smile, I nodded to him in confirmation of the truth of my words.

Chapter 407

At this very time there appeared in Paris a lady called the Marquise de Brinvilliers. If I have readers, they will remember that this name has already appeared twice in the pages of my memoirs. The first time it appeared in the first book of memoirs, the Marquise de Brinvilliers was the lady I met in Paris almost immediately after entering the service of Captain de Treville. This lady had many names, but she is remembered by two - Lady Winter and Milady, her real name was Charlotte Munier. She also bore the name of the Countess de La F;re for a time. This lady is no longer alive, but her name was inherited by another lady, who contributed to the evil memory of this name by her no less sinister crimes.
I refer you to Chapter 201, located in the fifth book of my memoirs. It is about Marie-Madeleine-Marguerite Dreux d'Aubray, Marquise de Brinvilliers, who was born on July 2, 1630. It is time to tell her story. She was executed in Paris on July 17, 1676, but it would have been better if it had happened earlier.
In addition to her illegitimate son named Mordaunt, born to the adventurer and robber Gerard Duchot, Milady had another son, born to a monk named Jean Berthier, whom she had seduced, and this son was named Antoine. In 1621, Charlotte Munier, being the Marquise de Brinvilliers, arrived in Lille and found her illegitimate son Antoine. She did not take him, but left ten thousand pistoles with the hired wet nurse and governess Cosette Lemare, and also informed her that she, the Marquise de Brinvilliers, had plans to take care of this child in the future. The next day, she brought Cosette a will certified by a notary, in which she recognized this child as her own and left her entire fortune to this child in the event that she and her husband, the Marquis, had no other heirs. Attached to the document was also an act in which her husband, the Marquis de Brinvilliers, having signed and sealed the document in the presence of a notary, acknowledged the child as his own and transferred his title of Marquis de Brinvilliers to the boy in the event that he did not have a male child born in lawful marriage. As it turned out, Charlotte had cunningly begged this document from her husband. On the basis of this document, Antoine entered into the rights of inheritance and began to be called Antoine, Marquis de Brinvilliers.
Antoine's fate, by a whim of blind chance, became closely intertwined with the fate of Charlotte's lover, Gerard Duchot, an adventurer and robber.
This Gerard Duchot later married a not very picky or overly trusting lady, related to very influential political and religious figures. This marriage was a way for Duchot to rise, because he hated his wife. Nevertheless, in 1639 she gave birth to a daughter, Marie-Madeleine, and later two sons, Antoine and Fran;ois, as well as a younger daughter, Anne-Charlotte. Soon Duchot's wife became seriously ill. I have every reason to believe that she was poisoned by her husband, Gerard Duchot. Before her death, she asked her husband to raise their children to be God-fearing and kind, which he promised her, but he had no intention of fulfilling his promise. Deep down, he himself was far from being like that, so he raised his children as he considered necessary, that is, not at all. He was not very attached to his children, perceived them as his property and disposed of them at his own discretion.
Duchot hid this side of his life from his son, Mordaunt. To him, he played the role of a penniless robber, hoping to profit from Lord Winter's kindness with his help. However, his plans were not destined to come true: during an attempt on the life of the Duchess de Chevreuse, he was shot, and his body was carried by servants outside her estate and left in the forest. But it turned out that Duchot was only wounded. A compassionate peasant, returning from a poaching expedition during which he hunted hares in the Duchess's forests, found the dying man and took pity on him, carried him into his house and nursed him back to health. The recovered Duchot returned to his estate acquired by cunning and reigned there again under the name of Antoine Dreux d'Aubray. And it just so happened that this Gerard, hiding under the name of Antoine Dreux d'Aubray, gave his daughter Marie-Madeleine in marriage to Milady's second son, this same Antoine, Marquis de Brinvilliers! Of course, he knew about Antoine's origins, but he knew even better about his wealth, inherited from the Marquis de Brinvilliers, which this scoundrel had his eye on. The daughter of the imaginary nobleman Dreux d'Aubray married the imaginary nobleman Brinvilliers. The daughter of Gerard Duchot, Milady's lover, married her illegitimate son! So the family of the one who henceforth called himself the Marquis de Brinvilliers was a family of impostors, the moral and actual heirs of Milady. These minor circumstances were aggravated by the fact that G;rard Duchot had sworn vengeance on the four Musketeers, on me and my friends, Athos, Porthos and d'Artagnan. He did not know our names, but he was determined to establish them, as Mordaunt had once done. After Marie-Madeleine's marriage, G;rard Duchot tolerated her husband, since he brought considerable capital to the family, but Marie-Madeleine did not love her husband, their relations were more than cold, so that from time to time she made acquaintances with other men, which enraged her father. His madness reached the point that he arranged for the arrest in 1663 of her lover, the cavalry captain Jean Baptiste de Godin de Sainte-Croix, who was placed in a cell with the Italian alchemist Exili, accused of making and selling poisons. After his release, Godin de Sainte-Croix used the knowledge he had gained from Exili and became interested in alchemy and the making of poisons. He passed on these interests to his girlfriend Marie-Madeleine, with whom he reunited. Soon after, G;rard Duchot died under mysterious circumstances. I later discovered that he had been poisoned by Jean-Baptiste de Godin with the consent and assistance of Marie-Madeleine. A year later, Jean-Baptiste and Marie-Madeleine poisoned both of Marie-Madeleine's brothers, Antoine and Fran;ois, as well as her sister Anne-Charlotte. The family of Marie-Madeleine and Antoine false de Brinvilliers inherited the entire fortune of the Dreux d'Aubray family in addition to the inheritance from the Marquis de Brinvilliers, despite the fact that both of these noble families had no relation to these degenerates. Marie-Madeleine, however, did not break off her relationship with de Godin. One day, Marie-Madeleine, rummaging through her late father's papers, found his notes in which he described in black colors some four musketeers, and swore to take revenge on them. With all her hatred for her father and his memory, this lady loved murder, and especially murder for revenge, as well as murder for the purpose of seizing an inheritance. We, mere mortals, cannot understand the perverted logic of such people, who were ready to take revenge even for those of their relatives whom they themselves hated most fiercely. In addition, apparently, the criminal couple decided that where there can be revenge, there can very likely be blackmail, and blackmail is a favorite method of acquiring money for people of this kind, and no matter how much money they have, it will never be enough for them, they will not miss their opportunity to grab more and more. Much of what I have here related I learned from the then Coadjutor of the Jesuit Order, whose letter I have already quoted. When I first learned of this story, I thought that perhaps Athos was right, Milady had begotten Hell, so that she had another son besides Mordaunt, and he had inherited his mother's character in every way, as had her other son, Mordaunt.
Antoine and Marie-Madeleine-Marguerite became another problem for us that we did not even expect.
Antoine went to see the Comte de Rochefort, whom he knew to have been Milady's ally. He asked him bluntly who the four musketeers were who had fatally influenced the fate of a certain Milady Charlotte Winter. Rochefort, who by this time had become more of a friend than an enemy, answered evasively. Since the one who asked the question had not directly stated the reasons for his interest, saying only that it was about a certain inheritance, Rochefort guessed that the inheritance might be a hereditary revenge. He reported that at least two of the people he was interested in were already dead, that one of them had died in the cave of Locmaria on the island of Belle-Ile, and the other during the storming of the fortress of Candia. The third, he said, had emigrated to Spain forever, and he knew nothing about the fourth. The Count de Rochefort believed that such an answer would clearly show this man that questioning was pointless, since there was essentially no one left to take revenge on. But he was wrong. Antoine did not believe Rochefort, but decided that some of the information he had received might be true. He decided to find out the name of the man who had died in the cave of Locmaria, as well as the names of those who had died during the sortie into the fortress of Candia. Having spent a lot of time and a considerable sum on his investigations, Antoine found out the name of du Valon, then established that du Valon had three friends in the time of de Treville. Having established their names, he was convinced that there was a rumor about one of them that he had died during the storming of the fortress of Candia. Everything fit together. He decided to find the remaining two, whose names he already knew. These remaining two were me and d'Artagnan. If I had changed my name during this time, and Antoine had no hope of finding me, believing that I had emigrated to Spain forever, then the name of Captain d'Artagnan was too well known for Antoine not to notice. So, Antoine's immediate target was d'Artagnan. He decided to get to know him better in order to work out a plan that included blackmail, extortion, revenge, and death.
The many-headed Hydra, named Charlotte de Winter, thus grew two even more evil heads in place of her severed head, Antoine and Marie-Madeleine, who took on the name of the Marquis de Brinvilliers.

Chapter 408

Meanwhile, I, who knew about the existence of Antoine and Marie-Madeleine de Brinvilliers from a letter from a friend of mine, had forgotten all about them. All the rosy prospects that I had painted for Louis were simply my thoughts out loud. I had not promised him anything concrete or reliable. And I did not feel bound by any obligations. I did not at all believe that Louis had been removed from the chessboard in order to put a queen in his place. To begin with, the King of France was not a pawn at all! With my usual irony, I was simply slightly mocking my captive, although I did not exclude exactly the development of events that I had told the defeated King about. Well, history knows of examples when deposed Kings returned to the throne and even became greater than before. Why should Louis not repeat such a zigzag of fortune, especially if I, or the four of us in general, need it?
In any case, his chances of returning were either in the event of our death or imprisonment, or in the event of a complete guarantee of safety for us. I did not believe in any oaths on the Bible, since I myself could easily swear on anything, if it were necessary, and also forget about any of my oaths, if it made sense. With other convictions, you will not become a Jesuit, and you certainly will not lead them! Suffice it to recall that my last and most important step in this hierarchy took place in many ways thanks to information about the possibility of replacing the King due to the existence of his twin brother. But the substitution of the monarch itself is not such a noble matter that it could be approved by the official morality of the Jesuits. Official morality is a signboard, real actions must demonstrate strength and lead to the desired consequences - this is the main morality of the Jesuit Order, and, I believe, not only it. And what is morality from the point of view of those who have real power? This is the curtain behind which the real action of the theater called "Life" takes place. Any sovereign who intends to trample justice, with particular care feigns a desire for it. This is the essence of crowd control. The sovereign cannot always be smart, and essentially fair. He may be neither smart nor fair, but his subjects should not know this, and they should not even have examples for reflection that would allow them to doubt the wisdom and fairness of the sovereign. Let's face it, most of the sovereign's actions are far from smart and not at all fair. But, when he is about to commit a stupidity, he thinks it over for a long time and consults with the most insignificant in intelligence, but worthy by origin people, occupying a position that requires them only to assent to the sovereign and receive regular board for this. In this way, the sovereign, as it were, observes all the formalities of justice before trampling it, exactly as he originally intended. No, I would definitely not believe any oaths of Louis about our inviolability. I am not the Duchess de Chevreuse. And even she, with all her intelligence, should not have attached any importance to such oaths. This naivety of hers can only be explained by the constant incompleteness of character of any of Eve's daughters.
Henry IV wrote on a glass with his diamond ring: "Beauties are hypocrites, madmen who believe them." He was wrong, because it is unfair to ugly women, and they are no less liars than beauties. Our good King Henry simply never cared about the opinions of ugly women.
Returning to my journey, I will say that there was nothing special about it after that. Our conversations with Louis became calmer, since he no longer perceived me as a fierce enemy. I encouraged him with some more vague promises, which I no longer remember. As soon as we arrived in Pignerol, I carried out what was planned and predetermined, once again assured Louis that his imprisonment was not eternal, not final, that it would probably end soon and he would return to the throne with even greater opportunities than he had. He, indeed, did not feel completely free either in the struggle against the influential Fouquet, or in further strengthening his sole rule, and it seemed to him all the time that he only had to defeat one, two or three more enemies, and after that a time of cloudless happiness, complete harmony and universal submission to him would begin, however, he was convinced again and again that in reality everything was far from so simple. I promised him that I would provide him with the means to resolve all the problems, and I reassured him that his imprisonment would not last long, at most a month or two, until I had settled all the issues with the people in whose hands power in Europe was actually concentrated.
I think Louis did not believe me too much, but human nature itself tells a man in his position to believe in the best, to trust any promise, the slightest chance for an improvement in the situation, and not to give in to despair. Those who are deprived of this happy character trait break down and perish from the slightest blows of fate.
Before we parted, Louis looked at me with his thoughtful eyes, barely visible through the slits of the mask, which he did not have time to remove when he entered the cell that could become his final home for the rest of his life.
“D’Alameda,” he said, “I understand that you were simply entertaining yourself and me with empty talk in order to while away the journey. Well, thank you for that. But know this. If everything you told me is even partially true, you will not regret your decision to return the throne to me. Believe me, to lose it three times is too much even for any man, even one hardened by adversity and trials. Remember that I am not yet thirty years old, and I have not yet ruled properly. I have had enough time to reflect and to analyze the mistakes I made. I forgave d’Artagnan, and all of you, because I realized that there is something higher in the world than the power of the King and even than the power of the Pope. This is true friendship. I do not know what contributed to the emergence and strengthening of that friendship to which you have the good fortune to be involved. But I know that true friendship will never arise between the King and any of his subjects. Perhaps Mademoiselle de la Valli;re could have been my friend, but, on reflection, I now believe that this was only the outward appearance of the relationship she skillfully entered into with me. It could not be friendship with my brother or with any of my family, even between any of them and the King there is too great a difference, too great a difference. I was surrounded by envious people and sycophants, or secret enemies. However, I do not know whether there is a difference between them? Perhaps d'Artagnan could have become my friend, since he never sought to take my place, or even to elevate himself, at the cost of some special relationship with me or with his former lord, Cardinal Mazarin. He is a special kind of man, I did not recognize him, and here I am punished for it. I will not tell you about the promises or oaths on the Bible that I nevertheless gave to the Duchess of Chevreuse in case of success in my attempt to regain the throne. You can ask her about it. I am a deeply religious man, but first of all I was a monarch, a sovereign. And as a sovereign I would have allowed myself to break any oath for the sake of the success of my cause. But after my third failure I thought deeply about my situation and destiny. The result of this is that before you is an entirely different man, not the one you kidnapped from the castle of Vaux-le-Vicomte, and not the one kidnapped by your friend and my captain of the Musketeers d'Artagnan. I am completely different as a result of the changes that have occurred in my destiny. Now I truly perceive everything that happened to me as the will of God. Consequently, none of the sons of Adam is responsible for what happened, neither you, nor d'Artagnan, nor anyone else. I alone am guilty of this. I will not ask you to consider my words and make some new decision. It is pointless. I said this only so that you would understand me better. Farewell, Duke d'Alameda.
A cold sweat broke out on me as I listened to this heartfelt speech. Louis did not lie, he spoke from the heart. Do I need to tell you how distrustful I am? I do not trust anyone, never, or almost never. Sometimes I do not even trust myself. It has happened that I will say something in full confidence that I am telling the truth, and then I realize that I have lied. This is who I am, the General of the Jesuit Order. If I were different, I would never have achieved this position. And here I am, the same in spirit as the biblical Thomas the Unbeliever, who would have to put his fingers into the open wounds of Christ to be convinced that before him was the risen Savior, I, who even doubted the words of Athos, and sometimes was convinced that he had the right to do so, who never believed d'Artagnan, although now, after all the events I have described, I already looked at our friendship in a new way, exactly as our dear Porthos described it, who used the simplest words for this: "After all, each of us would give his life for the other without hesitation?" I, Aramis, the Chevalier d'Herblay, "an abbot pretending to be a musketeer and a musketeer pretending to be an abbot," as d'Artagnan called me, I, a Jesuit to the marrow of my bones, believed the words of Louis as if the Savior himself had spoken them before me.
Under the influence of an impulse, without realizing my actions, I fell to my knees in front of Louis and pressed my lips to his hand.
"Your Majesty, I believe you!" I said. "I believe that what you said, you said sincerely. From this very second you have set out on the path to regaining your throne. You already have one subject, and he is kneeling before you.
“I am letting you go in peace about your affairs, and I believe that you said these words as sincerely as I did,” Louis replied. “The forced alienation from power will do me good. I will be able to think about many things. Go.”
I left the King in a state of confusion. Yes, I call Louis King for the first time since I described his last fall, for I saw him as a King again. I thought about the fate of Philippe, but each time my thoughts jumped to the path of reflection on the fate of France. Philippe was a good man and probably a good monarch. But was he a great King? Did I have reason to expect him to become one someday? I wanted to make a puppet of him, d'Artagnan wanted to make him a defense for himself and for all of us from the persecutions of Louis XIV, but none of us had thought about the good of France, about the well-being of our homeland, until that moment. What kind of musketeers are we after that?
I was so excited that I even allowed myself to show my mood. When d'Arlencourt asked me if everything was all right, I answered: "Yes, damn it! And what could be abnormal in such a simple matter as delivering a criminal to his place of confinement?"
Lieutenant d'Arlencourt looked at me in surprise. We were acquainted, and he knew very well that I always kept myself in check, I allowed myself rude words and a threatening tone only in the face of the enemy - in battle or in a duel.
The lieutenant even thought about taking my anger personally. His right hand involuntarily made an almost imperceptible movement towards the hilt of his sword. I noticed this involuntary gesture, and I felt ashamed for the second time in half an hour.
"Lieutenant, forgive my tone, unworthy of a minister of God," I said gently. "I have a great deal to do and even more plans, my head is filled with these problems, and I do not know why I have shown my excitement so inopportunely. I am outraged by the conditions in which de Saint-Mars keeps some of his prisoners. He receives a sufficient allowance, but it seems that very little of this money is spent on the purposes for which it is intended.
It was the pure truth. D'Arlencourt noticed it too.
“But we will not complain to the King about one of our former comrades,” he said.
“That’s exactly what made me so indignant,” I replied.
“I share it and understand you,” the lieutenant replied.
I nodded back at him and we shook hands.

Chapter 409

Upon returning to Paris, I finally decided to take up the task that Stefano Agostini had proposed to me. Let me remind you that he had suggested that I call myself Antonio Pignatelli. The assumptions about the fate of the real Pignatelli had been carefully checked by trusted people. He had indeed died during the wreck of a small vessel in the Mediterranean. The news of his death was carefully concealed on my orders, so that he was considered alive. His chances of eventually becoming Pope were ephemeral, but with my active work in this direction, due to all my connections, these chances turned into almost a guarantee. Until that time, Pignatelli had served as nuncio in Poland, and then in Austria. A decision had already been made to transfer him to Lecce in the very near future. Antonio Pignatelli had influential patrons, but he personally communicated with few people, and did so only occasionally, preferring a solitary way of life. This was due to special assignments from the highest leadership of the Holy Catholic Church. He had no close relationships with anyone and, as Stefano Agostini rightly noted, I resembled him quite a bit in appearance. Of course, it was necessary to slightly change my posture, voice, and hairstyle, at least for the time being. However, there were very few people who could expose such a substitution. He had left those who knew him too well in the line of duty due to his transfer to Lecce, and he had not yet had time to get to know his new colleagues, since he had not yet arrived there. The situation was favorable, since I, having studied all the circumstances of my career in France, came to the conclusion that even becoming a cardinal would be very difficult for me. I had influential enemies, envious people and ill-wishers from among the enemies of Nicolas Fouquet. A number of overly jealous husbands, who for some reason considered me an obstacle to their domestic happiness, regularly caused me trouble and minor problems, for the resolution of which I was occasionally forced to take off my cassock and put on my musketeer's cloak, and especially for this matter my sword was necessary. I myself do not understand why it was absolutely necessary for all of them to be jealous of their dear wives towards me. I cannot imagine what reasons they found for this! I simply confessed them from time to time, finding sometimes perhaps too convincing arguments for the consolation of these sometimes slightly lost children of the Lord. I sometimes looked upon them not as lambs, but as my sisters in Christ, or, to be more precise, as cousins. Yes, perhaps I treated them as cousins or as nieces, but is it worth making a problem out of it? It is enough to recall how tenderly the great Cardinal Richelieu treated his nieces, and all questions will immediately disappear of their own accord. Is it not proper for one clergyman to follow the example of another? And should not a bishop take a cardinal as his model? So the egoism and excessive suspiciousness, sometimes even the maniacal mania of considering themselves cuckolds, of some of my parishioners' spouses caused me no small amount of trouble, and my way of solving this problem did not at all contribute to reducing the number of my enemies in France. It is not my fault that some of them were influential enough to prevent my candidacy from being nominated as a contender for the cardinal's hat. To become a cardinal, it was necessary to have the support of the grandees of the episcopate which I headed before. As Bishop of Vannes I suffered a certain defeat, since Louis XIV had already managed to ensure that I was removed from this post during his stay in Spain. Well, sometimes it is much more troublesome to cure a horse that has broken both legs than to buy a new one. So to bother about returning to the post of Bishop of Vannes in the vain hope of becoming a cardinal did not seem to me as promising as to follow the path proposed by Stefano Agostini. Yes, the confluence of all circumstances was ideal, the chances of success were extremely high! Antonio Pignatelli’s closest friends, like himself, were members of the Order. They were ordered to accept me as him, and they would have been ready to swear that I was he. Antonio Pignatelli himself thus posthumously served the cause of the Order, leaving his brilliant career to me. Stefano Agostini quite reasonably and correctly assumed that a cardinal’s hat was being prepared for Antonio Pignatelli. He was also right in that some perspicacious minds predicted Pignatelli as a future Pope. Of course, not with the ease that Stefano Agostini had expected, but still quite successfully I succeeded in replacing Antonio Pignatelli as Archbishop of Lecce. My secret friends contributed to further strengthening the sympathy of Cardinal Benedetto Odescalchi towards me. For my part, I used all my influence to help him to occupy the papal throne. Everything worked out magnificently. In September 1676, Cardinal Odescalchi was elected Pope, and assumed this office under the name of Innocent XI. I specifically asked him not to rush to return the favor, so it was not until 1681 that Pope Innocent XI appointed me Cardinal-Priest of San Pancrazio Fuori Le Mura, and then, just a year later, he made me Bishop of Faenza in 1682. I will say in passing that my activity in these posts was successful and useful, so that four years later, in 1686, I became the Archbishop of Naples. My official activity in these posts is documented in excessive detail, so that it hardly makes sense to waste time and energy describing it here, in these memoirs. As for my activity as the General of the Order, I will not describe it here. To entrust this secret to a treacherous paper would be overly reckless. I will continue to write only what concerns my friendship with Athos, Porthos and d'Artagnan, only these affairs touched my heart, which was not yet completely petrified, and only the memories of these affairs warm my soul, which was not yet completely frozen.
To finish this topic, I will inform you that Innocent XI left this mortal world on August 12, 1689. I was already old enough to claim the post of Pope, but I lost this fight, the Conclave preferred to elect Cardinal Pietro Vito Ottoboni, who took the Holy See under the name of Alexander VIII. Terrible bad taste! To accept the name of Alexander, which the Borgia family had so disgraced! But I found a common language with the new Pope. He was terribly old, and this is what helped him win the Conclave, because every voting cardinal hoped to outlive the newly elected Pope, and this is why the oldest always won. It is not surprising that Alexander VIII died less than two years later, and then, in 1691, the College of Cardinals met to hold the Conclave. The factions loyal to France, Spain and the Holy Roman Empire could not agree on a compromise candidate. After five months, the French and German cardinals agreed to my candidacy. In order to get this decision through, I spent five months pretending to be an extremely sick old man, barely alive, that is, on his last legs. It worked. The members of the Conclave felt that a decision had to be made, everyone was tired of arguing, and everyone hoped that I would not live long, but that my election would give them the necessary respite to gather more supporters for the next Conclave. In this way I became Pope. I took the name Innocent XII in honor of Pope Innocent XI, of whom I retained the most favorable memories. And so I was crowned on July 15, 1691. Everyone knows that a year after my accession to the papal throne, I published the bull Romanum decet Pontificem, which forever abolished the practice of nepotism. I consider this to be my great merit. Nepotism, family ties, corruption – these are synonyms for nepotism. I eradicated this. After all, I myself had no relatives whom I would like and could make cardinals. The Borgia traditions came to an end. From that time on, and I hope forever, there can only be one relative of the Pope in the College of Cardinals, and with a limited income. I continued the policy of cooperation with France as best I could. It could not be otherwise, after all, I remained French! In Spain, I supported the candidacy of the Bourbons for the royal throne. I think the reasons for this also do not need to be explained.
I wrote this in case the bony one who stands behind me, and whose foul breath I can almost physically smell, takes me away before I finish my memoirs and bring them at least to the day when I first sat down to write them. It seems that I have been sitting too long as pontiff, so many cardinals are impatiently awaiting my death in the hope of taking my place! They certainly did not expect that I would live so long!

Chapter 410

A surprise awaited me at the Louvre. When Philippe summoned me and said he wanted to talk to me, I wasn't worried. But the conversation turned out to be serious.
"Duke, I am dissatisfied with myself and do not know what to do next," said Philip. "I did not imagine that the burden I took upon myself would be so heavy. From the books I managed to read during my imprisonment, I mistakenly concluded that the King has practically no duties and a great variety of opportunities.
“In a sense, that’s true,” I agreed, becoming wary.
“I am convinced of the opposite every day,” Philip objected. “My possibilities are insignificant, my duties are enormous, I am afraid of being buried under the weight of responsibility that has fallen upon me.”
"Take it easy," I replied. "Besides, you have me. I assure you, the sovereign has far fewer duties than rights!"
“Perhaps there have been monarchs in history who thought so, but the result of their rule was many misfortunes for the countries they led, and for the majority of the citizens of these countries,” Philip added.
“You are right, Your Majesty,” I agreed. “But is everything really so hopeless?”
"I would not wish to become a disgrace to my dynasty!" cried Philip instead of answering. "If I were to seek only personal gain, and perhaps for my favourites and friends, without thinking of the consequences for the kingdom, my name would be cursed by posterity. And yet the Heavenly Judge would ask more of me than He asks of those who have not been given as much power as I have."
“That is true, Your Majesty,” I confirmed.
"In order to justify your hopes, as well as the trust of Captain d'Artagnan and the hopes of the entire nation, I will have to work hard, delve into many things that I do not fully understand," Philippe continued. "I must live up to my position as the ruler of a great power. I rashly agreed to this, overestimating my capabilities. No one prepared me for this. I have no knowledge or skills.
“All this will come with time,” I objected.
“I can’t cope,” Philip insisted. “And I see that I won’t cope.”
“Your Majesty, if you feel that you lack the required knowledge and skills, this in itself already speaks of your much greater suitability for the high position you occupy than can be said about a good nine-tenths of the monarchs of all times and peoples,” I said. “I will say more. Nine hundred and ninety-nine out of a thousand monarchs have groundlessly considered and consider themselves smart enough to perform their functions.”
“Who is this one in a thousand who was not mistaken about himself?” asked Philip.
“King Solomon,” I replied. “Doubt in oneself, in one’s knowledge and decisions, is not at all characteristic of any ruler. On the contrary, self-confidence, conviction in one’s own rightness always and in everything and, as a consequence, conviction in the insignificance of one’s subjects and the habit of deceiving them in everything – this is what can be said about practically any ruler. In this sense, monarchs in relation to their subjects resemble women in their attitude to their husbands. Having convinced themselves that their deception is aimed only at the benefit of those whom they deceive, they do not consider it deception, as a result of which they get used to deceiving easily, without a shadow of doubt or shame. Promising freedom, they take it away, promising peace, they unleash wars, promising prosperity, they increase taxes and destroy previous benefits. In order to be better than not only the average, but almost any monarch, you do not need any skill, experience or knowledge: it is enough to have a conscience and at least a small share of that doubt in your own rightness that I observe in you. I see rare inclinations in you, although you do not believe in your strength. These are your self-criticism and willingness to learn. For a monarch, these are extremely rare qualities. Do not lose them, and things will go well. You can become one of the best monarchs in the world.
"Were all monarchs meaner than me?" Philip asked incredulously.
“It’s not that simple,” I replied. “But at a certain stage and in a certain sense, yes, it is. The fact is that the reign of almost any sovereign can be divided into three stages. At first, each one promises that everything will be wonderful. He promises changes if he has come to power as a result of a coup, or he promises that everything will be as before if he has come to power by inheritance and the people were happy with the previous monarch. That is, not the people, all citizens, of course, but only those who are important to the monarch, that is, those who can arrange something like a new Fronde, or they may not, depending on whether they are happy with the new sovereign. I mean the richest and, therefore, the most influential citizens of the state, especially if among them there are leaders who are able to unite many on the basis of a common idea, or at least present this idea to different communities so that it seems attractive enough to all of them. If the predecessor had only caused discontent in the ruling circles, standing one step below the King, then the new monarch must promise changes, which he usually did. So, whatever the first promises of any new ruler, they always sounded attractive. And in fact, they always turned out to be lies. One ancient ruler promised every man two women and every woman one man. The lie was not always so primitive, but it was always dressed in the clothes of truth. It worked, the people felt unity with the sovereign, the sovereign grew stronger, and having strengthened himself enough, as a rule, always intuitively understood that fulfilling all the promises was not at all necessary. So the transitional period ended. And only in this initial transitional period were royal promises sometimes fulfilled, or, in any case, the appearance of their fulfillment was created. Such a period, a kind of golden age, could last only a short time, just long enough for the monarch to believe in the steadfastness of his position on the throne. For some Kings, this period lasted several years or even several decades, while for one like Gaius Caligula, this period ended less than a month after his accession to the throne. Then, having gained experience, almost any monarch begins to act as he sees fit. He may make mistakes or not, and more often both alternately. But his goals still remain noble, although promises are forgotten. At the same time, the monarch begins to think no longer about appeasing his subjects, but about what will be best for him personally, both for the person and for the monarch, and a little by inertia he thinks about the state as a whole. This period, a kind of silver age, also ends and a new period begins, the age of tyranny, when the monarch begins to believe in his own infallibility and allows himself absolutely everything. As a result, the monarch becomes intolerable to his people, he brings only harm. There may be many reasons, but the essence is one. Some rulers stop listening to good advice altogether, while others, on the contrary, trust any advice from one of their favorites and become a toy in his hands. Some of them suspect every subject as an enemy, exterminating their entourage, some are so carried away by war, like Alexander the Great, that they exhaust their state to an incredible level, and even if they conquer new territories, they can no longer hold on to them. Some burden the state with taxes so much that discontent with them unites the most diverse strata of society, as happened with England during the time of Charles the First of England. In other words, any monarch sooner or later becomes the curse of his people.
“Does this really apply to all sovereigns?” Philip asked in surprise.
“Not all of them live to see the third period,” I answered. “Your grandfather Henry IV was killed halfway between the golden age of his reign and the silver one. That is why he is remembered fondly. His predecessor Henry III was killed even earlier, but his memory is not so fond, because the royal dynasty changed after him. Henry III’s elder brother, Francis II, did not live to be seventeen, so he left the world in the short epoch of his golden age, and, by the way, it was not he himself who ruled France, but his mother Catherine de Medici. But if such extraordinary events do not occur, then everything develops, as a rule, exactly as I have described to you. So keep in yourself a little longer the uncertainty of your own rightness, the ability to doubt your decisions, develop in yourself the desire to learn, and this will make you the greatest monarch of all time and people.
"Duke, your words do not console me, nor do they encourage me," Philip answered with a sigh. "I am in despair."
I looked closely at Philip's face.
“Your Majesty, you are in love with one of the ladies of the court, who, I suspect, does not reciprocate your feelings,” I said, without taking my eyes off him. “Am I right?”
“Not quite, Duke,” Philip replied, embarrassed and blushing. “I cannot complain of a lack of reciprocity.”
- Is she married? - I guessed. - So what? No monarch has ever been stopped by such trifles!
“I have already understood that, but that is not the point at all,” Philip objected. “In connection with the position I occupy, I cannot be sure of the sincerity of her feelings.”
“And why do you care about the sincerity of her feelings if she is sweet, charming and docile?” I was surprised.
- How can you not understand? - Philip was indignant. - If a lady is not favorably disposed toward me as a person, a man, but only as a King, then it is all false. Is false love worth reciprocal feelings?
- Four fifths of men suffer from the fact that even when they are loved, they do not receive from their wives either the respect they would have every right to expect, or the affection they deserve, or any manifestations of the love that was promised before marriage! - I objected. - One could partially justify such behavior as revenge for the fact that wives do not receive the expected prosperity, care and fidelity. But this is only a partial truth! And the real reason is that women do not know how or do not want to show those very character traits and behavior that men want from them. They pretend that close intimate communication with their husbands does not bring them any joy, that they agree to this only out of condescension, making a concession for which they would have the right to receive a wide variety of rewards! So, believe me, Your Majesty, most husbands would prefer that their wives, even if they hated them, were tender, easy-going, frivolous and witty with them. And this, I assure you, is much better than having a wife who loves you with all her heart, is devoted and faithful to you, but at the same time is quarrelsome, unyielding, avoids intimacy and generally does everything that you would not want her to do, and does not do everything that you would want from her to the highest degree! And this is precisely what most women are! If all the sweetness of communication falls to your lot, then what difference does it make to you what this lady is guided by? After all, sweet fruits from a bitter root are much better than bitter fruits from a healthy and juicy root! True love! What a trifle! True love you will find in monasteries, where hysterical women, who have not found an ideal in a living person, die of passion for the Savior, without the slightest hope not only for a reciprocal feeling, but even to catch a glimpse for a single moment of the object of their fanatical adoration. If you only knew how pitiful these recluses are! Having neither the determination nor the desire to bestow what they possess on any mortal, they save themselves for an unrealizable dream, brides of Christ, may they be desolate!
“Ah, Duke, you do not understand and will never understand me!” Philip answered with a sigh.
“On the contrary, I understand you perfectly well, because I was as naive as you, and for quite a long time,” I replied. “Tell me the truth, finally. Do you suspect that she is flirting with more than just you?”
“But I know she’s married!” Philip objected.
“Nonsense,” I disagreed. “The lovers of married ladies are never jealous of their husbands, I know from my own experience. You have noticed signs that your lady may be showing her favors not only to you, but to someone else at court. Am I right?”
Philip was silent, and his silence itself was much more eloquent than any confession.
“I am right,” I concluded. “Your lady is the Princess of Monaco. She is charming, witty, lively, cheerful, she even outshines Madame with her liveliness, or at least stands on the same level with her. Madame, Princess Henrietta has been known for her attractiveness, wit, cheerful and easy disposition for quite some time, people have gotten used to her, she no longer surprises, and, consequently, does not delight. The Princess of Monaco, listed as Madame’s lady-in-waiting, has only recently returned to court, she is a curiosity and a novelty. Besides, you saw her several times by chance at a time when you were less than nobody, you were a prisoner, a captive, a convict without guilt. And at that time you would have given everything, even, perhaps, the rest of your life without reserve, just to look at her once more, to be near her, to touch her hand.” Now you are the King, and it is not enough for you to possess her body, you want to possess her soul, to rule her heart completely! And after this you say that you will not become a King? But you have already become an exemplary tyrant! Even if you are only the ruler of one single soul, you want to possess it all, without a trace, completely, and without having any right to do so! You possess a kingdom without having any legal grounds for it, you illegally possess your brother's wife, by deception, taking advantage of the fact that she does not know about the forgery, you possess, I dare say, more than one favorite from among the ladies-in-waiting of the Queen and the Princess, and, finally, by right of a lover you possess the Princess of Monaco, who, by the way, is married and has legitimate children. You even have a chance to become the father of her future children, whom her husband will be forced to accept as his own. And this is not enough for you! You want her to give you not only her body but her soul as well, and you don't have enough proof of this, you don't believe her, you don't trust the one you love! Well, Your Majesty, you are worthy of the title of monarch, you grasp everything quickly on the fly! But why all these complaints about the difficulty of governing the state? You do not agree to pay the price that every monarch pays for his privileges? You do not want to govern the kingdom yourself? Transfer power to the first minister. Colbert is perfect for this role! What else do you need?
Philip was silent. I understood the range of feelings that filled his soul. Just now I had praised him, exalting him above all monarchs, and now I had scolded him like a boy. Who would like that?
"Your Majesty, do not take my reproaches too seriously," I said softly. "Your doubts are born of your meeting with your brother, as well as your inexperience in relations with women. Such doubts are not shameful, they only show the nobility of your character.
Philip remained silent. An unexpectedly aching feeling filled my soul. I approached Philip and hugged him.
- My poor boy! - I said. - It is so difficult for you in this new life. Take comfort in the fact that few people have had such a difficult lot in life as you. Besides, all those feelings that overwhelm you are so natural! Women! Hmm. It is such a difficult subject! The wisest philosophers, who easily solved the problems of existence and the universe, were afraid to approach this topic, and if they did, they suffered defeat. A woman is the weak spot of any real man. Especially in his youth. Remember Samson, Holofernes, Jason, Hercules. Even the wisest of the wise, King Solomon, gave in to the Queen of Sheba! And he must have been a good judge of women. Legend has it that he had three hundred wives and seven hundred concubines! Look at the Turks! Religion allows them to have four wives, but many of them do not have even one! Believe me, it is not shameful to do stupid things because of women. It is only shameful to repeat them in old age. But it is even more shameful to become a misogynist philosopher without knowing love. The ancient eastern poet Emir Khaim said:

“He who from his youth believes in his own mind,
In pursuit of truth he became dry and gloomy.
Claiming knowledge of life from childhood,
“Not becoming a grape, but turning into a raisin.”

Chapter 411

Antoine and Marie-Madeleine de Brinvilliers, meanwhile, were not wasting their time. Marie-Madeleine had a bad temper. At a very young age, she had been attacked by three servants who had taken a lot by force. This tragedy had a detrimental effect on her psyche. Her level of social responsibility had declined so much that she herself had become addicted to amusements clearly inappropriate for her age, which she had first shared with one of her brothers, then with another. So her marriage took place when she was already well-rounded, although she had barely reached the age of twenty-one. Her husband Antoine, about whom I have already spoken enough, was an inveterate gambler, and also loved all the other forms of entertainment typical of people of his age who were not very picky in their pleasures. It is therefore not surprising that they squandered the rather large initial fortune of two hundred thousand livres of her dowry in the shortest possible time, with Antoine's contribution to this being much more significant. Instead of understanding that satisfying the needs of an inveterate gambler is more difficult than filling a bottomless barrel, Marie-Madeleine initially tried to understand his situation and help him find new sources of income, none of which were honest. At the same time, Antoine considered the resolution of his financial problems part of his wife's duties, while he himself indulged in affairs on the side so often that the performance of his marital duties almost did not burden his wife at all, so that she also began to look for entertainment on the side. It so happened that Antoine himself introduced his wife to the cavalry officer Sainte-Croix, probably in the hope that he would occupy her leisure time, which would allow him to have more uncontrolled leisure. And so it happened. Sainte-Croix was fascinated by alchemy, which did not prevent him from becoming fascinated by Marie-Madeleine, and at the same time he involved her in his circle of hobbies. At first, Sainte-Croix, like all alchemists, hoped to discover the philosopher's stone, that is, methods for turning gold into lead. The side effects of his research were a wide variety of poisons, which he tested on small rodents. He was fascinated by the idea of finding antidotes, realizing that they could also make good capital. But he was decidedly unlucky with antidotes.
The lovers' chemical experiments did not so quickly exhaust the rest of Marie-Madeleine's financial resources, while her passion for gambling emptied not only Antoine's wallet, but also completely exhausted his reputation as a borrower of any kind of credit. Antoine borrowed money wherever he could and did not repay his debts to anyone, so he soon had to flee Paris, where he met his creditors at almost every step, and each of them dreamed of putting him in debtor's prison, and if this did not work, then, in any case, to use all means to make his life unbearable, in the hope that, perhaps, this would force him to repay at least part of his debts.
Finally, petty crimes and large debts led Sainte-Croix to prison, where he met the Italian Exili. This scoundrel was also interested in chemistry and alchemy, but, unlike Sainte-Croix, he did not believe in the idea of effective antidotes and looked at the problem much more simply and pragmatically. He explained to his cellmate that profit could be derived not only from the manufacture of antidotes, but also, quite the opposite, from the ability to make a wide variety of poisons. Exili explained to him that the greatest value would be those poisons that have neither taste nor smell, and whose presence is most difficult to establish. This idea captivated Antoine, so that he decided to take up research in this area immediately after his release. After serving his allotted year, Sainte-Croix left prison and captivated his mistress with his new ideas. This passion helped Marie-Madeleine speed up her inheritance and eliminate all her brothers and sisters from the division of the inheritance, remaining their sole heir. Having lost her relatives, Marie-Madeleine was forced to think about ways to obtain money using poison in some other way.
By that time, Marie-Madeleine had acquired such a taste for using poisons that the process itself began to give her some kind of perverted pleasure. She was completely tired of sending mice and chickens to the next world, since in this case she no longer experienced any excitement. She sent several beggars to the next world, treating them to pies or wine, into which she mixed a variety of poisons. She especially enjoyed watching the agony of the unfortunate. She carefully numbered the vials with poisons and compiled a special diary in which she described the convulsions and torments of people doomed to death by her, with notes on what number she listed the poison that caused the consequences of poisoning described to her.
A rumor spread among the beggars that a certain noble, well-dressed lady was serving treats, after which those who partook of them would soon suffer a painful death. The beggars began to refuse to take food from the hands of those who served them, preferring only money. The offered food ended up on the ground, where it was sometimes picked up by rats, proving by their fate the correctness of the decision to refuse the alms of the mysterious donor.
Marie-Madeleine was bored. Out of boredom, she poisoned first one of her maids, then another, but, deciding that it would be inconvenient to be left without maids at all, she invented a new entertainment. She began visiting hospitals for the poor, various shelters and asylums. Pretending to be a caring Christian with the utmost plausibility, she distributed her treats, "consecrated Easter cakes" and wafers, promising the poor and seriously ill a speedy recovery and an easing of their lot.
“First, eat this pie, and tomorrow I will visit you again and bring you enough money so that you can lead a decent life,” they said to the beggars, who did not dare to refuse the treat after such a generous promise.
- Try this wonderful pie, its filling of various miraculous fruits will support your strength and strengthen your health! - she told the sick, and they gratefully accepted her gifts, ate them in her presence and fell asleep on their beds, never to wake up again.
The sisters of mercy and the owners of the poorhouses did not suspect anything bad, since deaths in hospitals for the poor and in poorhouses for the poor were not uncommon, and, in addition, each such death freed up an extra bed, so that even if suspicions arose, those who thought about it preferred to keep quiet about their guesses. Moreover, such silence was partly bought by generous gifts from the Marquise.
All these experiences of hers made her a highly qualified poison specialist, and she secretly sold her services to extremely unscrupulous people engaged in the dirtiest craft. On the misfortune of others, the marquise restored her capital to its original size and even increased it.
One of her new hobbies was slow poisoning over several months by adding small doses of a weak poison. Many lovers in Paris got rid of their mistresses' annoying husbands with her help, many husbands sent their wives to the next world in order to remarry a younger and richer woman. The number of the marquise's victims approached a hundred.
But Sainte-Croix took too much of the money the Marquise earned, so Marie-Madeleine decided to get rid of her presumptuous lover. When making poisons, he wore a glass mask to protect him from inhaling toxic fumes. The mask was attached with strings. Marie-Madeleine soaked the strings in acid, so that during one of the experiments the strings broke, the mask flew off Sainte-Croix's face and broke, and toxic gases freely entered the respiratory tract of the hapless alchemist, who died that same evening.
Shortly before this, Antoine had returned to Paris, found Marie-Madeleine and renewed their relations. At this very time, he had carried away Marie-Madeleine with the idea of finding the four musketeers guilty of Milady's death and taking revenge on them. The instrument of their revenge was, of course, to be poison. This idea pleased the Marquise de Brinvilliers very much. Antoine, as I have already said, managed to find out the names of the Baron du Valon and the Comte de La F;re, after which, having spoken to the old musketeers under the most plausible pretexts, he established that these two were half of the four, which also included me and d'Artagnan. A new danger hung over us.
Antoine wanted to find and poison each of us one by one, but Marie-Madeleine rejected the idea. She proposed a plan whereby the four of us would gather together so that she could poison us all at once. She had specially prepared a poison for this purpose, one that would cause us to die slowly and painfully, watching each other suffer, which would greatly increase our suffering.

Chapter 412

My soul will soon rush to where the souls of my dear friends are, and if they are capable of feeling anything, then I am sure that they await me there. If the afterlife is a deception, then at least nothing is one form of peace. I do not understand why the Lord has rewarded me with such a weary longevity, but perhaps this is not a reward at all, but a punishment, and in this case I do not dare to call it undeserved. My insolence in this life, which is coming to an end, has been excessive, which cannot be denied. At times I have been indiscriminate in the means to achieve the goal, and contrary to the well-known assertion that a noble goal justifies the means to achieve it, I very much doubt this. Life has shown me clearly enough that with noble means the end cannot but be noble, and with vile and unworthy means the end will not remain good.
When I began writing these memoirs, I was afraid that someone would read them. Now, as I approach the end, I am afraid that no one will read them. It would be a misfortune for me if anyone read them while I am alive, but the thought that even after my death they will be hidden from everyone drives me to despair, I would say, if I had not understood long ago and forever that despair is an unfamiliar feeling to me. The most bitter of all the feelings that visit me now is not fear, not despair, and not even disappointment. It is a melancholy that sucks the last of my life out of me. A melancholy for the past, and even more so for my departed friends.
Now I have to tell you what prompted me to think about this.
In the morning, at the usual time for reading correspondence, Bazin brought me an unusual letter. It was in an envelope with the coat of arms of Princess Henrietta, that is, Madame, it had her seal, I opened the letter and recognized her handwriting. Here is its content, which I will never forget.

"Dear Duke d'Alameda! Circumstances have developed in such a way that I am forced to turn to you and your three friends for help. You will probably be surprised by this and you will be right, since not only my request is unusual, but also the very appeal to you, to whom I, it would seem, have no reason to turn.
But I have no way out. Something terrible happened yesterday! A terrible misfortune has befallen me. The circumstances are such that I cannot open up to anyone, including my husband, the Duke of Orleans, the King's brother, nor to my friends, no matter how devoted they may be to me, including the Count de Guiche, his father, the Marshal de Gramont, and his sister, the Princess of Monaco. All these people would probably help me in other circumstances, but not in the misfortune in which I now find myself.
You will understand why I appeal to you, for in all France there are no more courageous, honest, brave and devoted friends of the King and his family than you four have always been, the four Musketeers who first rendered a great service to my mother-in-law, Queen Anne, then tried to save my father's first minister and closest friend, King Charles, then fought fearlessly and selflessly to save my father, and also did everything in your power to save him from the terrible fate that Fate had assigned him, and it is not your fault that this did not work out. I remember how grateful my mother was to you for this courageous act. And finally, you, all four, have performed a series of unparalleled feats that allowed my brother to regain his father's throne, to proudly ascend it as King Charles II, which, of course, elevated me too, and from the poverty in which I lived, made me one of the first brides of Europe, thanks to which I now occupy the high position of Madame, that is, the second lady of France, which I always considered my second home, and which has now become my fatherland. So, I have every reason to trust you completely and undividedly. And, believe me, I have no less reason to seek your help. My gratitude will be as high as I can afford without lowering my honor. Everything I have, except her, will belong to you four. However, why will it be? It already belongs to you, I swear to you this, if only you will respond to my request.
So, if this letter has found a response in your soul, be at the Four Desserts for Henry, on the Rue Ferou, at six o'clock this evening. The innkeeper will be warned of your visit. A table will be laid for you in the main hall, so that you will not have to be bored waiting for me. I will come a little later, as soon as I can, perhaps at seven, perhaps at eight. Wait for me in any case, and do not hesitate to help yourself, everything is already paid for. In order to help me, you will need strength, as well as your courage, your swords and your intelligence. But the most important quality is your delicacy, on which I count.
Do not try to speak to me before the appointed time, this is a delicate matter, so if you act on your own, I will renounce everything.
Your Henrietta"

The seal on the letter was undoubtedly genuine, and the handwriting left no doubt as to the author of the letter.
"Well, here's another adventure!" I thought. "She's right in everything she wrote about us. She really has reasons to turn to us for help. Athos and I showed great loyalty to her father when we went to England at her mother's request! Besides, Athos helped her brother regain the throne, that's true, as is the truth that d'Artagnan, with his courage, completed the work Athos had begun."
The thought of seeing my friends again that evening raised my spirits to a considerable pitch. I did not want to do anything, as I was completely absorbed in thinking about the upcoming meeting with the Princess, where she would act as a petitioner, and also trying to guess what this matter actually consisted of. But still, I had some things to do that I could not put off. About three hours before the appointed time, I decided to take a walk to the Louvre and discuss this letter with d'Artagnan, since he, of course, had received exactly the same letter from the Princess.
D'Artagnan, as always, was at his post at the King's chambers, which was now Philippe.
- My dear friend, what do you think of this letter? - I asked him. - I bet that you, and Athos and Porthos, received the same letter!
"It's terrible, my dear Aramis!" replied d'Artagnan. "Nothing could be worse! I fear that you are right, and that Athos and Porthos have also received such letters!"
- What's wrong with that? - I was surprised. - On the contrary, I have a presentiment of a friendly meeting and a pleasant feast, which will end with a request from almost the first lady of France for delicate help! When have we ever refused such requests from such ladies? Of course, the Princess is not the Queen, but we are not twenty years old either!
"What are you talking about, my dear Aramis?" cried d'Artagnan. "Someone is impatient to kill us, and you express joy at this?"
“You’re joking!” I replied, becoming wary.
"When did I ever joke about such things in such a way?" asked d'Artagnan.
“You think this is a trap, and a deadly one at that?” I asked more seriously. “But for what reasons?”
“There are more than enough reasons,” replied d’Artagnan. “Do you believe, my dear Aramis, that Athos and Porthos also received exactly the same letters?”
“I have already made exactly this assumption,” I replied.
“And you, of course, expect to see them this evening at six o’clock in the very hotel indicated in this letter?” continued d’Artagnan with his interrogation.
“Of course,” I confirmed.
“And you don’t find it strange?” d’Artagnan asked again.
- Wait a minute! - I began to guess. - It will take them several days to get to Paris from where they are!
"Consequently, in their letters the time of the meeting is indicated not by the word 'today', but by today's date," confirmed d'Artagnan. "The author of the letter had to choose one of two things: either our friends will not be able to arrive at the appointed time, or such letters were delivered to them in advance!"
“And this indicated to you that we were in danger of a death trap?” I asked in surprise.
"That shows that the author of the letter is lying," replied d'Artagnan. "The author writes: 'Something terrible happened yesterday,' but the letter to Athos and Porthos was sent several days ago, taking into account that it would take time for the letter to reach its addressees and for the addressees to arrive in Paris.
- And if the author is lying, then this letter was not written by Princess Henrietta, since she would not lie to those people on whose help she counts! - I guessed. - Bravo, d'Artagnan! And I did not pay any attention to this! Just think! The author of the forgery's only mistake exposed him!
"That is not his only mistake, there are others, but that is not the main thing now," replied d'Artagnan. "The main thing is to prevent an attempt on our lives and on our friends, or at least to make sure that it fails."
“What do you propose?” I asked.
“It would be more correct to ask what I assume,” d’Artagnan corrected me. “I assume an intention to poison us all.”
“Why?” I asked.
- The table will be laid in advance, we are invited to eat and drink, without denying ourselves anything, since everything is paid for, - noted d'Artagnan. - It is unlikely that we are dealing with an enemy so honest that he wants to give us strength before the decisive battle. It is much more reasonable to take this strength from us. At the very least, to make us weak or put us to sleep, and on the other hand, why not poison us right away and finish us off? Only I cannot understand who could come up with such a thing, and for what reason?
- Well, I think I can answer that question! - I replied. - Just recently I learned about a married couple! Just imagine, another illegitimate son of Milady, married to the illegitimate daughter of her lover! They would have some nice kids! Well, the lady from this couple is extremely fond of poisons, and has already poisoned many innocent people!
Here I told d'Artagnan everything I knew by that time about Antoine and Marie-Madeleine de Brinvilliers.
"We must hurry!" said d'Artagnan. "Our friends may arrive before the appointed time, and if they decide to arrive at the meeting place early, Porthos will not be able to resist tasting the treat!"
“You are right, d’Artagnan, go quickly to the hotel on the Rue Ferou, and I will drop in on the way for a man we will need,” I said.

Chapter 413

When I reached the door of the hotel of the Four Desserts for Henry, I saw that d'Artagnan had already met Athos, and it was evidently not easy for him to convince him that the letter was a forgery. D'Artagnan had a much stronger temperament, so that I heard his objections from afar. It is surprising that Athos, who had often declared that d'Artagnan was the most perceptive of us all, should in this case display an inexplicable and extraordinary obstinacy.
- Look, Athos, when I told Aramis only a quarter of the grounds for suspicion, he immediately agreed with me! - d'Artagnan was seething. - If I could not convince you, why don't you simply trust me?
I did not hear Athos's answer, after which I again heard d'Artagnan's objections.
“Your fanatical desire to help members of the royal family is well known to me, dear Athos!” he said. “And although I feel slightly less awe before monarchs, I generally agree with you, but understand, this is not a question of doing a favor for the lady who signed the letter! This is only a question of not becoming a catch in someone’s vile plan! No, I am not boiling over. I speak quietly enough as it is, but I cannot whisper when it comes to such an important matter!”
Athos said something again, after which I heard d'Artagnan's voice again.
"I quite admit that you and I could enter this hotel without touching food, but think of Porthos!" he said. "Our worthy Porthos is organically incapable of looking at a laid table without tasting half of each dish. And who will keep him from doing so? You? The three of us would not be strong enough to keep him alone!"
Here, at last, I came close enough to hear Athos's reply to this tirade.
"But Porthos has not arrived yet, and we might as well look around the inn," said Athos. "Imagine how we shall appear to the woman who wrote us the letters, if you are mistaken! Better to fall into an ambush than into such an awkward situation! We shall overcome the enemy, and the shame of not having helped such a lady will remain with us for the rest of our lives. And there is not so much of her left to cherish and cling to her."
At this point I intervened in the conversation.
“I am glad to see you, my dear Athos, and along with my greetings I present to you my good friend Jacques-B;nigne Bossuet,” I said. “He will help us to find out the truth.”
"Aramis!" said Athos with a sigh. "You have revealed the secret of the letter to a stranger."
"My dear Athos, stop taking this letter at face value!" said d'Artagnan. "If you are not convinced by my arguments, listen to Aramis!"
"Listen to me, Athos," I said. "Do you remember how you held back my hand when I was going to shoot Mordaunt from the side of the ship that brought us to England?
“Yes, Aramis,” answered Athos.
"Do you remember that after Mordaunt had escaped, you said that perhaps I was right, and that you had been wrong to spare him?" I continued. "If you had not interfered with me, the King would have been saved!"
"How can one know that, Aramis?" asked Athos. "Perhaps what is predetermined cannot be changed?"
- Our plan for saving the King was flawless, and we forgot only that there would be a scoundrel who would voluntarily do the executioner's work! - I insisted. - Not only that, but Mordaunt persuaded Cromwell to bribe the Scots! He contributed to the fact that Charles's trial was influenced by the anger of the Londoners, caused by the proclamations he composed and distributed. If you had not interfered with me, Lord Winter would not have died from Mordaunt's treacherous shot! How can you surrender yourself to so-called fate! We are musketeers, we held fate in our hands and made it obey us!
“To my deep regret, Aramis, I have nothing to say to you except that I would not forgive myself if the letter was written by the one whose name is underneath it,” said Athos.
"You have already gone to the rescue of the Duke de Beaufort not so long ago!" I said. "And for exactly the same reasons! Knowing full well that you were probably walking into a mousetrap, you nevertheless stubbornly walked into this trap, guided by the same motives: if this is not a trap, then you will never forgive yourself for not having done anything to save the Duke.
“Is it really possible that one mistake will make me reconsider all my life principles?” Athos replied.
- Gentlemen, you argue in vain, - said Jacques-B;nigne Bossuet. - We are wasting our time. We could have found out everything long ago, and quite simply. A few small experiments are enough for this. And yet I urge you to remain outside, I myself will go into the refectory and examine the provisions that are laid out for you on the table.
“Trust the scientist, Athos,” I said.
"So be it," said Athos. "But will the innkeeper let him into the hall, which is laid not for him, but for us?"
“I will introduce myself as the Duke of Alameda,” said the scientist.
I handed the scientist my coat and my hat.
"Science knows of poisons so strong that even their vapors are capable of killing a person, or at least causing significant damage to health," Bossuet explained. "Judging by some facts that the Duke has shared with me, your enemies have had experience using such poisons as well. So it would be better if I were to enter the room first alone."
"And if these poisons affect you?" asked Athos anxiously.
"Don't worry, with my skills in working with toxic substances, I can handle the task," the scientist replied. "Watch my actions through the window. First, I will release my testers, if nothing happens to them, I will continue the research in more detail.
And he pointed to his suitcase.
Then he entered the hotel, and we leaned against the window. After a while, we saw Bossuet enter the hall and take out several small cages from his bag. Each of them contained small animals - rats or mice. The scientist placed the cages with animals on the table near various dishes, then went to the window, opened it wide and, half leaning out of it, took a deep breath.
"There!" he said to us. "I held my breath while I was setting out the cages with the mice and rats. Now I will catch my breath and look at their condition, and then I will let them taste every dish and drink that I find on the table.
He put on gloves and picked up a strange instrument, something like long tweezers, with which he could very conveniently break off pieces of food for his rats. He also took out a spoon with a very long handle.
"If even one of the dishes turns out to be poisoned, we shall have proof that we were intended to be killed," I said. "In that case, Athos, I suppose you will not object to our finding out who and how had the opportunity to forge Madame's letters and send them to us, who hired this hotel for us.
After some time, it seemed like fifteen or twenty minutes, the chemist came to the window again.
- I have found out everything! - he said. - There is no need to worry about the smell of the dishes. But you can't eat them. The wine is poisoned, as well as the meat dish, bread and mushrooms. The other dishes have no traces of poison.
"Thank you, my dear friend!" I said. "What do you say to that, Athos?"
"I will only say that, alas, there are as many vile people in the world as there are those who need help," replied Athos. "But I am glad that Princess Henrietta apparently has no problems for the solution of which she would be forced to resort to our help. Well, the matter is settled, and I can go home."
"By no means, Athos!" cried d'Artagnan. "We will wait for Porthos, enter the refectory, and pretend that we have fallen for this trick. We will pour the wine on the ground, throw away some of the poisoned food, and lie down in approximately the same positions as those unfortunate rats who have just saved our lives before your eyes, unwittingly giving up theirs for them."
"What is the purpose of this unworthy spectacle?" asked Athos. "Must we stoop to taking revenge on these poisoners, whoever they may be?"
"Only by finding out who they are and punishing them can we protect ourselves from them in the future," I said. "If you do not value your own life, Athos, try to think of ours, and of your son's life! For if someone has stooped to such vile methods of revenge, his failure will only encourage him. And if you and I are lucky enough to escape disaster, who knows, perhaps unknown avengers will direct their vengeance on those whom you love and cherish?"
“I submit entirely to you, Aramis, and to you, d’Artagnan, and I acknowledge myself an ass,” said Athos decisively.
"Who admits to being an ass?" exclaimed a huge man, who was impossible not to recognize as Porthos, emerging from the darkness. "Why are you discussing La Fontaine here instead of refreshing yourself while you wait for the noble lady who is awaiting our help?"
“I’ll explain everything to you now,” I said.
"It would be better to let d'Artagnan explain," said Porthos. "Your explanations are too scientific, Athos's are too brief."
"Dear Porthos, with the help of the great chemist and scientist Monsieur Bossuet, we have discovered that the treat prepared for us is poisoned," said d'Artagnan. "Therefore, the letters we all received are forged, and they were simply trying to kill us."
"Have you caught them yet?" asked Porthos. "Those who dared to forge a letter, signing it with Madame's name, and who poisoned the food intended for us?"
“We intend to catch them, and for this purpose we are invited to pretend to be dead, lying on the benches around this table,” I said.
"But I'm damn hungry!" exclaimed Porthos. "And these dishes look delicious. I know I shouldn't eat them, but my sense of smell and my sight will stubbornly tell me otherwise."
“I’ll tell the owner to take all this away and bring normal food, which we’ll also check,” I said. “And let him just try to disobey me!”
"That's unreasonable!" objected d'Artagnan. "The host may be in cahoots with the poisoners, and the new table setting may frighten the murderers. So, Porthos, I beg you, just hold on. In any case, it has been established that the wine was poisoned, as well as the meat dish, the bread, and the mushrooms."
- Scoundrels! - exclaimed Porthos. - To ruin so much excellent food! I think I won't touch the rest. I have a couple of sausages in my bag, let's eat them, and I don't feel like drinking wine at all!
- Very reasonable! - agreed d'Artagnan. - Although the learned gentleman informed us that the other dishes were not poisoned, perhaps the poison did not get on them completely, but only on some parts. It would be reasonable to completely refuse what is laid on this magnificent, seemingly deadly table.
And so we did. I thanked Monsieur Bossuet and asked him to leave us. We were invited at six o'clock, we arrived at half past five, we spent half an hour clarifying the situation and another quarter of an hour discussing it. Another quarter of an hour was spent implementing the plan. We poured the wine out the window onto the ground and threw some of the food into the bushes. After that, each of us chose a place at the table and assumed a pose in which he would be comfortable lying until the arrival of the criminals. Porthos sprawled on a bench and, it seems, simply fell asleep. I do not think he was such a master at feigning snoring. But his snoring served us well, since all three of us would not have been able to fall asleep with such a noise. We did not have to wait very long.

Chapter 414

The room was lit by candles. Soon some steps were heard outside the window.
"Quiet, friends!" whispered d'Artagnan. "Not a sound." Through the small slits of my eyes, I looked attentively at the window. For literally a couple of seconds, a face appeared in the window that I did not have time to examine properly. It was the face of a boy or, perhaps, a young woman.
And at that very moment, Porthos issued a new series of roulades.
The face disappeared as quickly as it appeared.
We continued to wait in the hope that perhaps the criminal would show himself again, but the next quarter of an hour brought nothing.
— Friends, we are fooling around! — cried d'Artagnan. — We have let him go, but do not be distressed, this man was most likely not a criminal, but a street urchin, sent out for a few sous to reconnoitre. And he has already reported that at least one of us is not dead, but merely asleep. And would a fellow-diner sleep if three of his friends at this same table had been poisoned? Never! We have been found out. And besides, Athos is right. It is not proper for four noblemen to feign death, as if we were stage actors. I remember once catching two scoundrels who wanted to shoot me, hired by Milady. Then I pretended that their bullets had hit me and feigned death. But that was in more dignified surroundings, and I was young, impetuous, full of enthusiasm and stupid ideas. But now we are pretending in complete vain.
Athos was already on his feet. He had only slightly adjusted his clothes, so that he once again looked like a King who had walked into the wrong door.
"Perhaps we should have jumped up and grabbed him?" he asked. "Making Porthos lie next to a table full of food and not eat or sleep wouldn't have worked anyway."
- You are right, my friend, and so be it! - answered d'Artagnan. - God be with them. Let us go to the Goat Hotel and eat, because the sight of food that cannot be eaten really does have a depressing effect, and not only on Porthos, but on me too. But first let us speak with the owner.
D'Artagnan took the bottle of poisoned wine, which was still half full, and went out into the corridor, inviting us to follow him. I woke Porthos, and he also followed us.
"My dear fellow," said d'Artagnan to the host, "your wine has gone sour. See for yourself, try it!"
He took one of the glasses and poured the entire contents of the bottle into it.
- Why did you spend almost an hour enjoying yourself, then, as I see, one of you even took a nap, and no one complained about the quality of the wine, and now it suddenly occurred to you to complain? - asked the host. - As you wish, the wine is excellent, I assure you. But if you treat me, I will drink, but I will not return the money for the wine, and if you want to order more wine, then please order it to be served, but you will have to pay for it.
After these words, the owner took the goblet and resolutely raised it to his lips, but d'Artagnan managed to knock it out of the hands of the astonished owner.
"You're lucky," he said. "I believe you, and I won't do anything to you."
"What are you doing, gentlemen?" exclaimed the host. "From your appearance, it seemed to me that you had hardly drunk, but you are behaving as if you were completely drunk!"
“Be silent, fool, the wine is poisoned, and the captain has just saved your life by not allowing you to drink it,” said Athos.
“We believe that you were not accomplices in this crime only because you were ready to drink this wine, and, therefore, did not know that it was poisoned,” I said.
"You will tell us all about the people who ordered this meal, and whether they or any of your people entered the hall after the table was laid," said d'Artagnan. "Immediately and in all details."
“And be precise and truthful, otherwise I will wring your neck,” added Porthos.
"It was a veiled lady," said the host. "I did not see her face, her voice was quite ordinary, but I think the coachman called her the marchioness." "When the table was laid, she came into the hall and ordered that she be left alone."
"She!" I said. "And when was that? The food was still quite warm when we arrived.
"She left at the beginning of the fifth hour, just before half past five," said the host. "We usually serve hot food only when the guests are already seated at the table, but she ordered everything to be served at once and the hot dishes to be covered with lids and caps so that they would not cool down. We did everything just like that."
"We were about five minutes late," I said. "If we'd arrived a little earlier, we would have caught her."
- Take it all away and destroy it, do not give the remains of the food to people or animals, it is all poisoned, - said d'Artagnan. - Wine, bread, meat, mushrooms, everything contains poison. So I advise you not to try the rest. And let them wash the dishes thoroughly.
- Three times, first with mustard powder, then in salt water, and then in fresh water, - I added. - People with cuts or scratches on their hands should not wash these dishes. Entrust this to people whose hands do not have any wounds.
“Where can you find such people?” the owner said thoughtfully.
“That, my dear, is your concern,” said Porthos.
"I recognized the boy who looked in the window," said d'Artagnan. "In almost forty years of service, I know half of Paris by sight. This boy often goes to the markets, and perhaps cuts the purses of inattentive onlookers. I will find him, and he will tell me everything he knows about this mysterious marquise."
“And I’ll find out where she lives,” I replied. “If she has several addresses, I’ll find out all of them.”
"We'll do that tomorrow," said d'Artagnan. "And now, to the Goat. I'm damn hungry after all this!"
"Damn it, and me!" exclaimed Porthos.
- Don't worry, Porthos, Madeleine has hot hams, Burgundy, pates, pies, mushrooms that you can eat without fear of poisoning, and many other delicious things for us. - Consider yourself my guest, I treat you!
"What are we standing there for?" exclaimed Porthos. "Let's run to the Goat! D'Artagnan, I adore you!"
“I know, Porthos,” replied d’Artagnan.
Just a quarter of an hour later we were already sitting at the table, and Porthos, having bitten off a sizeable piece of ham, was chewing it with pleasure.
“You can watch the fire burn, the water flow, and Porthos eat forever,” I whispered to d’Artagnan.
“The last spectacle is certainly worthy of the brush of the best Flemish artists,” he agreed.
We chatted all night. What could be better than a meeting of old friends in a cozy hotel, where no one would ever think of evil against you? D'Artagnan had a very warm relationship with the owner of the hotel, who, by a strange coincidence, was also named Madeleine. But I couldn't get another Madeleine out of my head - Marie-Madeleine de Brinvilliers. If she had decided to commit this crime, she would not back down.
Already towards morning, Athos thoughtfully uttered a profound phrase.
“Friends, we have lived a truly wonderful life, and we have nothing to be ashamed of,” he said. “But lately too many people have wanted to kill us, and I think we have already paid too high a price to save our lives, a price that perhaps should not have been paid. You know what I mean. But it turns out that even this price is not enough. People completely unknown to us attempt to kill, and only a miracle saves us. God is too good to us. Why should he not allow one of them to succeed?”
"Athos, I thought you hadn't been drinking at all!" cried d'Artagnan. "Why on earth are you drawn to such gloomy philosophy? The last time you said anything like that was before you had Raoul!"
"I am not drunk, my friend!" replied Athos. "I am simply disgusted with hiding, and I am tired of constantly expecting a blow in the back! Our present enemies are not those who challenge to the face, and this, I tell you, is disgusting. I would like to leave this life."
“Athos, stop it!” I said.
“You did not let me finish,” Athos replied. “I am not thinking of suicide. I would only like everyone around me, except my best friends, you, Aramis, you, Porthos, and you, d’Artagnan, to think that I am dead. After all, I already have a place in the crypt where the earth from the environs of the fortress in Candia is buried! Many of my friends still believe that I am dead, and Raoul too. If this mistaken opinion could be transformed into a firm conviction, and not for some, but for everyone around me, I could calmly retire to a place where I will not be pursued by capricious monarchs, nor by the angry descendants of enemies who fell in honorable combat, who consider it their duty to avenge the fact that they were able to line their pockets with their inheritance.
— And I would like a plaque to appear on the rock that crushed me in the cave of Locmaria, although fortunately not fatally, that under this stone lies Baron du Valon de Pierrefonds de Bracieux! And I no longer want to be a count, nor a marquis, nor a duke and peer! I want to experience the joy of anticipation of a good meal at the sight of suckling pig with horseradish, pullet or rabbit with mushroom sauce! I want to boldly raise to my lips a goblet of wine that I like the taste and color, without fear that I will take the last sip of my life from this goblet. Let me be struck down by an enemy’s bullet when I least expect it, than every time I sit down at the table, expecting that someone wants to poison me for some reason!
“And you, d’Artagnan?” I asked.
- The devil take me! - exclaimed the captain. - It's good that things have come to the point where we are discussing this matter! I have known Louis, whom we have kidnapped and are keeping locked up, since he was a child! He is like a son to me! I am used to protecting him from the slightest misfortune, I prayed to him! Do you think it was easy for me to carry out this coup? Yes, if you like, I began to understand Agrippina, who, having heard the prophecy that her son Nero would become the ruler of Rome, but would also be the cause of her death, answered: "Let him kill, as long as he reigns!" So I am! If it were only a question of preserving my life, I would have spat on this danger and would not have undertaken what I did to save my friends! And yet everything was so wonderful! Porthos, Raoul and Athos were listed as dead, Aramis was in Spain! I could have reported to the King that he could issue orders for your arrest as much as he wanted, they would lead to nothing! In the end, he would have forgotten all about it. But someone spied on you and reported to him that you were all alive. Damn Colbert! He organized it!
“He was merely doing his duty, defending the state and its monarch, seeking out those whom the King considered his enemies,” I replied.
"A beautiful formulation!" cried d'Artagnan. "Any crime can be justified by the phrase: 'I was only doing my duty' or 'I was only following orders'!"
“That’s how it is, and if it’s not everywhere, then believe me, it will be everywhere and always, and such excuses will save many scoundrels from retribution for their crimes,” I answered.
“And the King gives the orders, and the King is not subject to trial!” continued d’Artagnan.
- Well, why not? - I asked. - Charles the First was tried and even executed!
- Ah, these wild Englishmen, who live in a mountain swamp, surrounded on all sides by water! - d'Artagnan waved his hand. - What can you expect from people who call rain fog, fog cloudy weather, and cloudy weather a clear day? I'm afraid they don't even know what a clear sunny day is! Poor fellows, they are forced to brew wine from barley and call this swill beer! No wonder they turned against the King because of such a life. But in France such a thing is impossible! In a flourishing land, where they know how to enjoy the taste of truffles and partridge, Tokay and Anjou, where coffee is never served with a rusk or biscuits, as they do on a ship during a long voyage or in a country that is little different from a large ship! In a country where a bun can be baked so that it is soft and crispy, big and airy, contains both salt and sugar, but is neither salty nor sweet! In a country where coffee smells like coffee, and not like chicory, burnt acorns or burnt barley! Is it possible in such a country to hate your King so much that you dare to judge him? Never! Never!
“I’m afraid you’re mistaken, d’Artagnan, remember the Fronde!” I replied.
"In France, things will never go beyond a small riot organized by the nobility, standing two steps away from the throne," d'Artagnan waved away. "We French love our Kings, no matter how false it sounds coming from the lips of a man who kidnapped his King and replaced him with his brother. One murderer can always be found, such as Ravaillac or Clement. But for the majority of the nation to rise up against the King of France is unthinkable!"
“Life will show,” I replied. “So, if I understand you correctly, you would like to restore Louis to the throne, provided that this does not threaten the three of us?”
"Exactly so, my dear Aramis, since I have not slept the peaceful sleep of a baby since I kidnapped the King!" replied d'Artagnan.
“Well, although I do not renounce the idea of punishing the poisoner, who is undoubtedly the Marquise de Brinvilliers, I am ready to agree with you that disappearing, hiding, convincing everyone of my death, and then living somewhere abroad, would not be so bad,” I said. “I cannot say for myself that I would like everyone to consider me dead, but it is in my power to make most of my enemies simply forget about me, or, at least, give up their revenge. I cannot vouch for everyone. For example, I have decided to change my name.”
“Again?” asked d’Artagnan.
- And why can you, Porthos, be called du Valon, de Bracieux, and de Pierrefonds, you, Athos, can be called either Count de La F;re or Marquis, you, d'Artagnan, can be called de Bats, de Castelmore, or d'Artagnan, but I can't?
- Have mercy, Aramis, but you have so many names that it is impossible to remember them all! - answered d'Artagnan with a laugh.
“None of these names qualify one for the rank of archbishop,” I replied.
“Do you want to become an archbishop?” asked Porthos.
“Not at all,” I replied. “Only for a time, until I become a cardinal.”
"Stop chasing after the achievements of Paul de Gondi!" said d'Artagnan. "There is no need to prove that you are better when everyone already knows it!"
“Neither Gondi nor La Rochefoucauld ever aroused in me a drop of envy,” I lied, and, it seems to me, d’Artagnan understood that I was not sincere.
"So, the matter is settled, we return Louis to his throne?" asked Athos.
“Will he forgive us?” Porthos asked.
“And what should we do with Philippe?” added d’Artagnan.
"Philip recently confessed to me that he would like to be a private citizen," I replied. "I have tried to reason with him, and it seems to work for a time, but he is right in that he is not cut out for the birth of a monarch, this burden oppresses him, he would even prefer to return to prison.
"We won't allow that!" said Athos and d'Artagnan almost simultaneously.
“It’s a pity about the Prince,” added Porthos.
"But you spoke of Louis's return in connection with Athos's idea of faking his own death," d'Artagnan reminded him. "So you have a plan: first, with Philippe's help, to convince everyone that Athos, Raoul, and Porthos are dead, you disappear under a false name, and then we return Louis to the throne? A marvelous plan!"
"You seem to have said nothing about yourself in this respect, d'Artagnan," said Athos. "If you do not value your life, do not think that we do not value it either!"
"Well then, I shall have to fake my death too," said d'Artagnan. "By the way, I have a small estate in England, which General Monk gave me. What a pity that I do not wish to go there, and therefore will not go!"
“Why don’t you want to go there?” asked Porthos.
“I just told you how much I don’t like England,” replied d’Artagnan. “The fog in this country is so thick that you could cut it with a knife, and I love the Sun!”
“You have obviously never been to the place where the land given to you is located,” replied Athos. “Meanwhile, it is very nice there.”
"Have you been there?" asked d'Artagnan enthusiastically.
“I was for a time the French ambassador to Charles’s court, have you forgotten?” asked Athos. “I told you when you asked me when and where I learned English! Well, I have been there two or even three times, and I should be glad to visit and even settle there. It is a beautiful place. A mountain river, clear as crystal, forests full of game, meadows with lush grass, streams, backwaters. Birds singing, cicadas chirping. Wild berries and nuts. Beautiful!”
"So, we are coming up with a plan to restore Louis to the throne?" asked d'Artagnan. "Whether it will be good for us or bad, I agree!"
"My friend, you know both Princes well," said Athos. "It is difficult for me to be objective, since Louis has insulted my son, and therefore me too. But tell me, frankly and honestly, which of them is more desirable for France?"
“Louis,” answered d’Artagnan.
"What is your opinion, Aramis?" asked Athos.
“Louis,” I agreed after some thought. “Yes, it is him after all!”
"What do you say to this, Porthos?" asked Athos.
- Friends, you understand, of course, and I also know, that this question was asked of me only so that I would not think that you do not take my opinion into account! - said Porthos. - But why ask me, who saw the King only a few times, and who saw Philippe even less? Of course, when Philippe came to power, he gave us all gifts. He did not expect that his reign would end so soon, and that we would again be involved in it. Well, I am ready to return what I received from him! And the most important thing is that he himself wished to leave the throne. In that case, my opinion is that we must return Louis.
“Well, in that case, I too vote for the return of Louis,” replied Athos.
"I undertake to work out a plan with your help, d'Artagnan, of course," I said. "I only ask you not to rush me with its development, much less with its implementation. We must not only bring Louis back, but also ensure all the conditions that have been discussed: everyone must consider us lost, we must offer and ensure Philippe a decent life, and we must see to it that the Marquise de Brinvilliers stops her fun with poisons. This will take time.
“Agreed!” replied d’Artagnan.
“Agreed!” answered Porthos and Athos simultaneously.
"Your Highness, someone is asking for you!" said the innkeeper Madeleine, turning to me.
“It’s me, Monseigneur!” said Bazin.
“Come in, Bazin, what’s the matter?” I asked.
"I was told to report to you, Monseigneur," said Bazin. "Princess Henrietta has died."
 
Chapter 415

Princess Henrietta's death shook Philippe to the core. I must say that I was also shocked by what had happened. Henrietta was charming. True, she was often ill, but we were all accustomed to the fact that almost all women get sick from time to time, that half of their illnesses pass as quickly as they begin, and that the best treatment is to leave them to themselves, to leave them alone, to let them lie in bed all day, to be capricious and demand increased attention. This was especially true for titled ladies.
Unfortunately, no one took Princess Henrietta's illness seriously. Philip himself, who, following Louis' example, began to flirt with the Princess and became quite carried away by this game, was never upset by the news that the Princess was ill. He simply excluded communication with her from his plans for the next two or three days, expecting that the illness would pass and Henrietta would return to high society.
But it had to be admitted that Henrietta's illness was not a simple affliction, and certainly not a pretense. It was there, and now it's gone!
I went to Philippe to comfort him in this grief, but I was told that Philippe himself was with Monsieur. Of course, he had to say a few words of consolation to his younger brother, who had become a widower so unexpectedly.
“He won’t stay there long,” I decided, “I’ll wait!”
And, indeed, Philip soon returned home. He was glad to see me.
"Imagine, Monseigneur, Gaston is not at all upset!" he said. "I expected to find him morally broken, but it seems he was more upset when his favorite hunting dog died! Do you know what he asked me?"
“Something about the upcoming funeral, I suppose?” I asked, lying, since I had a rough idea of what Gaston was interested in, and as it turned out, my guess was correct.
"Not at all!" exclaimed Philippe. "Gaston asked me which of the European princesses might suit him for a future marriage, and how long he should wait before beginning a new matchmaking!"
“What can you do?” I said. “Gaston is not used to being a hypocrite. His entire upbringing was aimed at ensuring that he did not lie and did not hide his feelings. At least, not before his closest august relatives. Gaston never dissembled in conversations with your mother, the late Queen Anne, and now she is in the best of all possible worlds, and you are to replace Gaston’s father and mother. So he discusses with you only what interests him with complete sincerity, and avoids talking about topics that are unpleasant for him, no matter how strange and even tactless it may be in such a situation.”
“You are right, Monseigneur,” Philippe agreed. “I would like to cry over this, but it is improper to show more grief than her widowed husband shows. And Monsieur himself does not seem to be upset at all. When I advised him to hold on, he replied that ‘the worst is already behind us’, can you imagine?”
“I suppose Monsieur is tired of his frequent suspicions that the Princess led too much of a gay life?” I asked.
"Are you hinting at her cheerful nature and the fact that she loved entertainment?" asked Philip. "Can one blame a woman for the fact that she loves life?"
“If only there weren’t those hanging around nearby who love life so much that they are ready to start creating a new life at any moment and resort to its assistance,” I noted.
Philip blushed deeply, from which I realized that my hint had hit the mark, so I decided to change the subject.
“It seems that Monsieur was jealous of the Princess for de Guiche?” I asked as if nothing had happened.
- To Count de Guiche? - Philippe asked laughing. - Oh, what are you saying, Monseigneur! Count de Guiche is completely harmless! True, I cannot vouch for the fact that many of the Princess's ladies-in-waiting probably pleased their husbands by giving birth to children whose birth their husbands did not put any effort into, but de Guiche always showed nothing but respectful admiration towards the Princess.
“Probably so,” I agreed, although I knew that Philip was completely wrong on this issue.
"Some lovers behave just like husbands!" I thought. "They are so sure of their irresistibility that they cannot even imagine that they are being cheated on almost before their eyes! And they are jealous of the wrong people!"
"In any case, I am very sorry about the death of Princess Henrietta," said Philip. "Besides, I am afraid it would not complicate our relations with England?"
- This is a very important matter, Your Majesty, and a sorrowful letter should be written to Charles II, which I will do as soon as possible, - I answered. - I will also compose a sorrowful letter in response on behalf of Charles II, addressed to Your Majesty and Monsieur. I will see to it that the draft I have composed is used to write the official letter and is signed by Charles II. An exchange of such letters will settle this matter.
“That’s good, thank you, Monsignor,” Philip replied.
"It seems that the relationship with England is the only thing that worries him in connection with the death of the Princess," I thought. "This does not characterize him very well as her former lover, but it characterizes him very well as the King of France!"
"Do you think it would be convenient for me to visit the Princess of Monaco now?" Philip asked.
"A king, such as you are, is comfortable with everything," I replied. "You are free to visit any lady you wish to see, but I would recommend that you concentrate on your family today. Go to the Queen to indulge in sadness with her. It may not be as fun, but such behavior will be most in keeping with etiquette."
“Isn’t it I who sets the rules of etiquette at court?” Philip asked.
"You, Your Majesty," I agreed. "Then establish today the etiquette that I recommend to you. You will make up for lost time with the Princess of Monaco after the funeral of Princess Henrietta."
“Thank you for your good advice, Monsignor,” Philip replied.
I heard notes of displeasure in his tone.
“Your Majesty, in connection with this matter,” I said casually, “don’t you think that the Princess might have been poisoned?”
"The Chevalier de Lorraine?" Philippe asked sharply. "No, I don't think so! Why would he act so recklessly?"
“Why did you immediately make the assumption that he was the poisoner?” I asked.
"I really don't know," Philip replied. "It seems that he is the only person at court who did not love the Princess and did not hide it."
“If he had intended to poison her, he would have hidden his dislike for her,” I said.
“Ah, is this how it is done at court?” asked Philip.
“This is done not only at court, but in every other place,” I replied.
"I will order a commission to be formed to investigate this matter," said Philip, "and I will order the doctors to examine the Princess's body before it is committed to the earth."
“That would be very wise, Your Majesty,” I said.
“Yes, of course,” Philip answered.
He looked at me and it seemed to me that I read in his eyes: “I don’t need your approval of every decision I make.”

I left Philippe and thought. If the Princess had been poisoned, were these two crimes connected – the attempt to poison the four of us and the poisoning of the Princess at almost the same time? I had no doubt that the Marquise de Brinvilliers had tried to poison us. But two similar crimes suggest a unity of intent, that perhaps they were connected by the same criminal. However, what could have been the purpose of the Marquise’s crime against the Princess? And what opportunities might she have had for this?
It was true that there was reason to suspect the Chevalier de Lorraine: he hated her, and he had the opportunity to give her poison, since he was constantly engaged in organizing the King's entertainments. In fact, he had no other duties. But there was no reason to suspect him of knowledge in matters of poisoning. On the other hand, the Marquise de Brinvilliers had such knowledge, but she had no reason to hate the Princess and, apparently, had no opportunity to put poison in the Princess's food or drink.
There was some kind of mystery here that I needed to solve!

Chapter 416

The commission appointed by Philippe found no grounds for declaring Princess Henrietta poisoned. This was officially declared. It was simply impossible to do otherwise, since this would have completely alienated France from England.
What the commission actually found out, I can only report on these diaries, which I still believe that no one will read. Well, the matter is not so simple. The doctors who participated in the autopsy did not come to a unanimous opinion. Some of them said that there was reason to assume the use of an unknown poison. Others laughed at them, pointing out that the Princess had kidney and liver disease. Perhaps they are right, in the sense that these organs were indeed out of order. But even in this case, one can ask whether this was not the result of a long intake of non-lethal doses of poison before she received such a dose that these diseased organs could no longer cope with.
I have formed my own opinion, which there is no point in expressing, I think from what I have already written here, it is quite obvious.
So, the Princess had enemies – poisoners. And they had the opportunity to mix poison into her food or drink not once, but several times, that’s the minimum!
The Princess's obvious enemy was the Chevalier de Lorraine. I ordered my men to investigate in detail all the information that might indicate whether he could have been involved in this crime. I also ordered them to find out whether the Chevalier de Lorraine had crossed paths with the Marquise de Brinvilliers.
I learned the whole truth. The Marquise had received exhaustive information from the Chevalier about the four Musketeers who, during the time of Cardinal Richelieu, were involved in the fate of Milady de Winter. How could the Marquise de Brinvilliers pay? Of course, with a phial of poison that was difficult to detect during an autopsy! Thus the two ends of the string were tied together, the whole picture of the terrible deeds appeared before me in its entirety.
I had the moral right to punish these people. And it was no longer a question of us, four elderly musketeers, defending our lives from a poisoner who was threatening them. Our lives at such an age are perhaps too insignificant a value to be burdened with the sin of killing a woman in order to save them. But when it comes to a criminal who is guilty of poisoning a royal person, that is a different matter! My hands were untied.
Unfortunately, I could not reveal to Philippe all the evidence of the guilt of the Chevalier de Lorraine and the Marquise de Brinvilliers, since some of the evidence was collected by methods that were not the most delicate, and in some cases, very sensitive. No, there were no crimes in collecting this data, much less torture, murder, threats or blackmail. But there was illegal surveillance, opening of letters, looking into locked cabinets with master keys, and also finding out some information from people whose trust had been won, so to speak, by entering into close contact with the carriers of the information. I gave my informants permission to use such methods because they were engaged, in my opinion, in a holy matter - the investigation of a monstrous crime. Now, when my years are such that I must think about this no longer from the position of momentary impulses, feelings and desires, but from the position of a spiritual judge standing above all Catholics, and not only above them, I would no longer be so categorical in my judgments. Perhaps I, such as I am now, would not have a staff of detectives, spies, and even thieves and blackmailers. I would prefer only the information that can be obtained with clean hands. But this is me, a ninety-year-old man, a prelate, invested with the highest spiritual authority that a mortal can exercise. I was not even a cardinal then! I was not even a bishop any more. My age then could be called youth compared to my present years, accumulated over a life that is almost a century long. Now I judge myself more severely. Yes, I would not have obtained information in this way. But since it was obtained, and was indisputable, I acted in full accordance with this information in the only way I could have acted. I decided to destroy the Marquise de Brinvilliers, to destroy the Chevalier de Lorraine, and, if necessary, to destroy their other henchmen, if any were revealed.
I again began to act alone. I did not want to involve my friends - Athos, Porthos and d'Artagnan - in this revenge. It would be enough if my conscience was burdened with revenge on yet another descendant of the perfidious Milady. I had to tear out this root of evil mercilessly and finally.
The method of revenge I chose may also deserve condemnation. I decided to catch the criminal in the act. I knew that her crimes would not be limited to those she had already committed, so I planned to track her down, forestalling her intentions, allowing the scoundrel to fall into the nets I had cleverly laid. If she renounced further crimes, my vengeance would not reach her, but if she conceived a new crime, it would serve as her downfall, her punishment. So I decided.
Let me remind you that on the eve of the news of the Princess's death, the four of us had discussed the idea of restoring Louis to the throne, but first of all, of faking our own deaths. This idea now seemed especially attractive to me for the simple reason that my plans to counter the Marquise de Brinvilliers had been largely passive, so that I could not control the date of her final punishment and disarmament. Until then, my friends, like me, remained in danger. Their disappearance would have reduced this danger. I will not speak of myself, since I had no fear for myself. I moved too quickly through Europe, unexpectedly, swiftly, my actions were extremely difficult to predict, it was impossible to bribe my servants. The Marquise was as unthreatening to me as a cat is unthreatening to a bird that is always on the alert. But my friends were of the wrong stock. Athos would never hide, Porthos would never hide, and as for d'Artagnan, he seemed to deliberately seek out danger, which was his favorite element. I can't say that he didn't value his life, he was just used to looking death in the face, and not showing it his back. Perhaps that's why Death always retreated before him?
I decided to remind Philippe of his plan to leave the post of King, to leave as quietly and secretly as he had taken it. I named the disappearance of my three friends as the condition for the realization of this plan.
Philippe accepted the conditions concerning Athos and Porthos, but doubted the advisability of faking d'Artagnan's death.
"Do you yourself believe, Monseigneur, that a man like Captain d'Artagnan can be hidden - I do not say in France, but throughout Europe?" asked Philippe. "Hidden so that he will not appear anywhere again, so that no one will have any doubts about his identity? Remember that even your friend Baron du Valon could not hide for long! He was found, exposed, his incognito was revealed!"
“The Baron has an extremely striking figure, voice, and strength,” I said.
- This is nothing compared to the explosive character, irrepressible energy and fantastic activity of Captain d'Artagnan! - objected Philippe. - If a war starts somewhere, d'Artagnan will be in the front ranks! The only way to protect him from assassination attempts is to make him a general, a marshal, a constable! Then he will be constantly surrounded by too many musketeers and guardsmen. But even this, I'm afraid, will not help. Danger is his element, heroic deeds are his way of life!
“Your Majesty, you have studied your subjects so well that I begin to doubt the advisability of implementing the plan to return your brother to the throne of France,” I said.
“It’s all nonsense!” Philippe objected. “I’ve been in the King’s shoes and I don’t like this role. I simply cannot help but try to play it as best I can, because it is my duty to my family and to all of France! But understand, Monseigneur, I must live with a woman who is not my wife! And what if she gives birth to children who will be considered my brother’s children? If the Dauphin does not outlive me, one of these children may take the throne. If before God I have the same right to the throne as my brother, then my children in this case will be bastards! After all, I did not marry the Queen!”
“But you live with her,” I said.
“I, Louis, lived with La Valli;re and had children with her,” answered Philippe. “Love without marriage is not so reprehensible as what can happen. My grandfather Henry IV legitimized his illegitimate children, made them dukes, but he did not make any of them King, although the eldest of them, C;sar Vend;me, was born in 1594, so he is older than Louis XIII, who was born only seven years later in 1601! If C;sar were the legitimate heir, he could claim the throne! If I put my children by the Queen on the throne, it would be a greater crime than my taking the throne! After all, I am the legitimate son of King Louis XIII, and God alone knows which of us two, I or Louis, has the greater right to the throne of France by any law, divine or human!” Which of us is older is a highly debatable question, because already in our mother’s womb we existed together, and on this basis I believe that we are the same age.
“Your Majesty, I dare not argue with you,” I said.
- If I could, like your friends, the Marquis de La F;re or the Baron du Valon, fake my death and leave France, what happiness that would be for me! - exclaimed Philippe. - I would retire with great pleasure with the lady of my heart. Whatever anyone may say, if Catherine Charlotte were free! If she had not married the Prince of Monaco, and had not been called Princess of Monaco, but had remained Catherine Charlotte de Gramont! I would know where and with whom to seek my happiness!
“And she?” I asked.
“That’s just it!” replied Philippe. “She seems very fond of me. But I cannot be sure that she loves me as Philippe, and not as the King of France. Love for the King is not love, but commerce, calculation, politics, call it what you will, only do not call it love. Even little La Valli;re… What can I say about her! The lynx who caught the Eagle Owl by pretending to be a soft and fluffy kitten! That’s who she is. Even I have succumbed to her charms! I do not ask whether Louis would have aroused her love if he had been a simple nobleman! I know the answer! Monseigneur, what men call modesty, timidity, innocence, inexperience in women, is found only as a role of a talented actress. When men see real innocence, they do not recognize it, because true innocence is so careless that it can look like depravity. Innocence does not hide her body, because she does not see in it a temptation for the male gaze! Innocence does not take her eyes off the gaze of a man, because she has not been trained to do so! Innocence sees in a man only a man, a son of God, a brother. And only an experienced and informed woman portrays innocence as men are accustomed to seeing on the stage - with lowered eyes, with a modest voice, with a timid look and even more timid movements. La Valli;re did not deceive me. But Catherine Charlotte remains a mystery to me. She is not a maiden, because she is married. But it seems to me that she did not find in marriage the love she was looking for, and I dream every night that perhaps I am the man she needs. And I am convinced that she is the woman I need! No, I am lying, she is not the one I just need, she is the one without whom I cannot imagine my life!
I can only say that at that moment I envied Philip. I had never experienced such love in my life. I knew too well and too early what a woman was to have such romantic feelings, that is, to be so mistaken about one of them, while understanding the character of all the others so well.

Chapter 417

Athos, of course, had to inform Raoul of his decision. For this purpose, he invited him to his place.
It must be remembered that Raoul had already announced his decision to leave for England forever, but after staying there for two months, he returned to Blois because he missed his father. Athos did not ask him whether he had returned for a week, or a month, a year, or forever; he was sincerely glad that he could communicate with his son again and did not begin this conversation, fearing to hear something that would upset him. He was even more afraid that Raoul had returned because of disappointment or, what was much worse, because of another unhappy love. Now he himself decided to talk about the advisability of leaving for England. And he was very afraid that the word "England" would sound as unpleasant to Raoul as the name Louise de La Valli;re had sounded before.
But the conversation had to start.
“Raoul, my son, I must tell you something important that will affect your destiny and mine,” he said.
“And you too?” Raoul couldn’t contain his surprise.
"Who else wanted to tell you something important?" asked Athos.
"No, that's not it, forgive me, father," Raoul corrected himself. "I must have expressed myself incorrectly. No one was going to tell me anything except you, but I wanted to talk to you."
“Then I listen to you, Raoul,” said Athos.
“I’d better listen to you first, since your message is a thousand times more important than mine,” Raoul objected uncertainly.
“Let me decide, as your parent, what is more important to you and me, your message or mine,” Athos answered firmly, so that he did not even need to be persistent, since Raoul had so far obeyed him unconditionally, although at his age he could already desire independence and even, like many young people, go against his parents’ wishes and opinions.
“Since you have decided so, I will tell you,” Raoul readily agreed. “I have decided to leave France, although it would be bitter for me to part with you, father, but even if you do not approve of my decision, I will ask you…”
"I not only approve of your decision, my son, but I will even tell you that I could not have expected a better decision from you," replied Athos with a reassuring gesture. "What makes you think that I would interfere with your decision even if it were contrary to my wishes? But, fortunately, it coincides surprisingly with my intentions. The matter I intended to discuss with you is my intention of leaving France forever. I do not intend to return here, and there are weighty reasons for that.
- My God! - Raoul was surprised. - I was about to tell you exactly the same thing!
"It only remains for us to exchange information about the reasons for our intentions, and to discuss a few details of our departure," said Athos. "This concerns the time and place where and when you intended to leave, Raoul, and where and when I intended to leave."
“My reason is that I still feel very keenly that France is Paris, Paris is the Louvre, the Louvre is the King, and the King is the cause of my misfortune,” said Raoul.
"There is more truth in your words than you think, but let me know if you have forgotten that there is now another man on the throne, not at all the one who has caused you so much misfortune?" asked Athos.
“I forget about it when I look at him, they are so similar,” Raoul replied. “Besides, this one continues the relationship that the other one started. And although I don’t care at all anymore who Mademoiselle… Mademoiselle…”
“You care, you still love her, my son!” cried Athos.
“No, I have long since cast her out of my heart with my mind, but my heart continues to tremble at the thought of my loss,” Raoul objected. “However, this is nonsense! Even if she were returned to me, and if she swore her love for me and begged me to take her… To take her as my wife, of course! I would refuse.”
“I understand,” said Athos.
“It’s not that she’s been in the hands of two other men, although perhaps that’s part of it,” Raoul continued. “Certainly that’s part of it. But the point is that I wouldn’t want her and me to be together even if none of this had happened. I’m left with some kind of unresolved problem, an unsatisfied feeling, and I think with horror that it’s a feeling of revenge. It seems to me that I wish her harm, although I wouldn’t want that to be true. In other words, it’s painful for me to see everything that’s connected with her and him, and even with his current copy, his deputy. All of this belongs to a life to which I don’t want to return. I’d like to turn over this page of my life and never open it again.”
"My boy, loneliness does not heal the wounds of the heart!" Athos said bitterly. "Believe me, I know what I am talking about."
“I think I could still go somewhere where I wouldn’t be completely alone,” said Raoul. “During my stay in England I met a lady…”
“Not another word!” cried Athos. “Do not tell me my name! I fear to bring misfortune! I approve of your choice in advance, and until you yourself wish to introduce her to me, allow me not to know whom you have chosen. I fear that something will embarrass me. I do not wish to know anything about her until you yourself decide, together with her, of course, that your happiness can only be achieved together. Dare, love, hope, do everything that I myself did not do at your age, or, more accurately, did only once, but in relation to a subject that was not at all worthy. I do not speak of your esteemed mother, who is herself one dignity. Know, Raoul, I am neither your judge nor your adviser; the less you consult me in questions of love, the better for you. We are musketeers of the old school, thought more of glory, exploits and friendship, and did not at all know how to understand women. Aramis alone has studied them sufficiently, but I would not wish him to be your teacher. So, listen only to your heart. It will tell you everything!
- And where have you decided to go, father? - asked Raoul. - And may I ask about the reasons for your decision?
“Truly, there is a God, and He is just, my boy!” replied Athos. “For you and I have not only decided to leave France at the same time, but we have also chosen the same place for our future residence! I have also decided to leave for England. You know, I am familiar with London, for I was for several years the French King’s envoy to His Majesty King Charles of England. But I will not go to London, but to a small place called Monqueville. Our friend d’Artagnan has a small estate there, and he has kindly offered it to me and Baron du Valon, so that we could share it with him as if it were our own. However, we are both rich enough, Porthos and I, not to be a burden to a hospitable host. Perhaps we will acquire estates nearby and live as neighbors! Most likely, that is how it will be. Even the closest friend should not become too close a neighbor.” But we have a place to stay for the time being, and that is already a great deal. You, my son, I suppose, will be heading for London? After all, you must have met your chosen one at the court of Charles II?
“You are remarkably perceptive, father,” Raoul admired. “If it weren’t for your prohibition, I would have told you the name!”
“You will tell me his name when you have the opportunity to introduce her to me personally, having received her consent to do so,” answered Athos and embraced Raoul.
“All that remains to be discussed is the time of departure and preparations for it?” Raoul asked.
"You will choose the time of your departure yourself, I will take care of all the preparations, we will not sell Bragelonne, our manager will send us the money," Athos answered. "I will leave as soon as everything is ready. But I still have something important to tell you that we have not yet discussed."
“I’m listening to you, father,” said Raoul.
"The fact is that even if you had not decided to leave France, I would not only have left it myself, but would also have strongly recommended you to do so for a very important reason," replied Athos. "You, my son, do not need to be reminded that everything you will hear from me is as much a secret as the one to which you are privy. So, you know that the real King Louis XIV, through the efforts of Captain d'Artagnan, was kidnapped and replaced by his twin brother Louis-Philippe.
"I know about it, father, and I still cannot believe that it is possible, and that one man could do it!" answered Raoul. "But I do not blame him, since according to human and divine laws, twin brothers are equal in all respects, as if they were one and the same."
"That is so, my son, and therefore I do not blame Captain d'Artagnan either," Athos agreed. "But the fact is that Louis Philippe himself, after a considerable time in the role of King of France, still insists that he has taken the wrong place, and prefers to return to the fortress of Pignerol as a prisoner rather than continue to feel like a usurper."
"Perhaps he could not bear the weight of responsibility for governing a kingdom that had been governed by several generations of his ancestors?" Raoul asked.
"That too, but he is even more afraid of not being able to bear the burden of responsibility for his involvement in the birth of the heir to the throne," Athos replied. "The Dauphin is the son of King Louis XIV, but if there are other children, they will be illegitimate before God."
"What a monstrous injustice!" exclaimed Raoul.
"Yes, that is so, my son," Athos agreed. "Besides, the sacrament of unction was performed over the head of Louis, and not over the head of Louis-Philippe."
"So, it has been decided to return Louis to the throne and Philippe to prison?" asked Raoul.
"We will not allow Philippe to return to prison," Athos objected. "But if Louis returns to the throne of France, then..."
Raoul did not want to interrupt Athos, but Athos himself fell silent, inviting Raoul to finish his sentence.
“Then France will become a place unfit for us to live in, father!” exclaimed Raoul.
“Exactly so, my boy,” replied Athos, and placing his hand on top of Raoul’s, he shook it firmly.

Chapter 418

Porthos's preparations were simpler and quicker. He also appointed a manager, stocked up on the necessary funds for the journey and for the first time, took three servants with him, as well as the best horses for himself and for all of us.
It was prudent, and even too prudent. But Porthos loved comfort and was used to living in grand style whenever and wherever possible. At the same time, our dear giant could easily get by with the most Spartan conditions, simple food and a hard bed, he was even capable of sleeping on the bare floor and on the ground. But if conditions allowed, he preferred the best food, the best clothes and comfort. That was Porthos!
As for d'Artagnan, he did not need time to get ready. And although he had many relatives, including his adored nephews, to whom he gave almost all the money he earned, as well as two sons, to whom he transferred the "warm" feelings that arose rather quickly between him and his ex-wife, he did not pay any attention to these children at all.
“Raised not by me, brought up in hatred towards me, and most likely not born from me, these children do not interest me at all,” he said.
Nevertheless, he assigned a quite sufficient pension to each of them individually and to his ex-wife, despite the fact that during the divorce she simply robbed him.
"Money is nonsense, my dear Aramis!" he used to say. "As long as I am with the Cardinal or the King, I will not go hungry; as long as my friends are alive, I will not be left without friendly support and a warm heart that beats in unison with mine! Besides, my good name, my honor, and, I hope, my position will always remain with me! And let them take the money.
It must be said that d'Artagnan's nephews were very similar to him.
But from the time that d'Artagnan met Fran;ois Perrin, whom he acknowledged as his son, although he was illegitimate, our captain's attitude towards his own children changed considerably. He loved Fran;ois even more than his own nephews, which seemed impossible. In relation to Fran;ois, he adhered to the strictness and severity of a military education, of which there was no trace left outside the barracks. In freedom, far from the Louvre, or on leave, we had the opportunity to observe one of the most loving fathers, of whom I could honestly say that he was not inferior to Athos, and even surpassed him in some ways.
So I didn't expect any problems from d'Artagnan at all.
“So the plan, as I understand it, is this,” I said. “You, my friends, d’Artagnan, Athos, Raoul and Porthos, are leaving for England. I, remaining in France, with all the means at my disposal, as well as the men in my service, and to a large extent with the help of our dear Philippe, that is, forgive me, still the King of France, will ensure the universal recognition of the fact that you all died gloriously and heroically. Porthos died in the cave of Locmaria, Raoul at the storming of the fortress of Candia, Athos a day later there, d’Artagnan, well, I will think about that. Having ensured the completion of your glorious deeds and the transition of you all from the ranks of the present heroes of France to the ranks of legends of past glorious times, then, perhaps, I myself will leave France, but first I will carry out a reverse castling. Philippe goes to Pignerol, and Louis to the Louvre. Have I stated everything correctly?”
Porthos shrugged and nodded.
Athos hesitated, but still nodded approvingly, after which Raoul demonstrated his complete agreement with a similar gesture.
I expected d'Artagnan's consent to an even greater extent, so his statement was a complete surprise to me.
"That's almost it, but I'll take the liberty of making some amendments to this plan," he said. "First of all, Philippe will not return to the fortress of Pignerol as a prisoner."
Athos nodded even more approvingly.
"I have thought of it, but much as I would like to spare Philip such a fate, I do not see a more reliable and acceptable solution," I replied. "I thought of sending him to the New World, or at least to England, but the danger of his being recognized and used to oppose the King, which threatens us with the danger of civil war, the death of many innocent people, I am inclined to think that the fate of one man should be made dependent on the interests of the state and its citizens.
"You reason as Richelieu reasoned, my dear Aramis!" objected d'Artagnan. "But you are not him! We have fought all our lives against this first minister and cardinal, and I think we were right in our actions. So why should we act as he did?"
“But Louis, who will return to the throne, will not allow Philippe to remain free,” I objected.
"We could convince him that Philippe is not dangerous to him in two ways," said d'Artagnan. "First, we have a man to play the role of Pignerol's prisoner, and he is there at present. We could simply take him out and bring him back in again, putting the Iron Mask on him. But I don't like that way."
“Louis, who had already been deceived in the same way, will never believe us; he will want to see for himself that it is Philippe under the mask,” I objected.
"Then we must apply to Philippe the same medicine that we are going to apply to ourselves," replied d'Artagnan. "We must convince Louis that Philippe is dead, and that for this reason his freedom and throne are being restored to him."
“He’ll demand proof,” I objected.
“The best proof that Philippe is dead will be the fact that his enemies, that is, you and I, free him and return him to the throne,” replied d’Artagnan. “After all, we can only act so illogically if we have no choice! We will explain to Louis that we have ceased to be his enemies, having submitted to circumstances. For us, the accession to the throne of Philippe d’Orleans, Monsieur, the younger brother of the King and Prince, would be much worse than the return of Louis. As well as for all of France. This is an argument! This is an argument! We will humbly ask him to return to the throne, and to do so secretly.”
- You say: "We will ask", but you must first leave for England! - I clarified. - I will have to have this conversation with him alone.
"And I will make a correction in this matter," continued d'Artagnan. "I will not feign my death. I will submit to Louis. And let him execute me if it will make it easier for him."
At these words, Athos and Porthos shuddered and looked at d'Artagnan with horror.
- My friend, are you tired of life? - Athos asked sadly. - You forget that we, your friends, will not agree to save ourselves at such a price!
"If Louis XIV decides to execute you, d'Artagnan, I will wring his neck with my own hands!" Porthos thundered.
Raoul remained silent, only looking at d'Artagnan in horror.
“My friends, calm down, I am not a suicide,” he answered us all. “Understand that I alone am the culprit of the crime that hangs over us all. Yes, with time I am increasingly inclined to believe that it was a crime, although if I were to find myself in the same situation again, I would act in exactly the same way. I do not regret my actions, but I wish to confess to Louis, and I hope to receive his forgiveness. If he does not forgive me, I will consider any punishment he determines for me to be just, and I will gladly accept any punishment he assigns me.
“This is unthinkable!” cried Porthos.
“D’Artagnan, don’t be silly,” I objected. “Is it worth taking such a risk?”
“It is worth it, my friends, it is worth it!” replied d’Artagnan. “It is not happiness and tranquility that I seek! I would like to receive back from the hands of His Majesty Louis XIV my lost soul! And that is no small thing! I would that he would command me to die for him! You, Raoul, have been cruelly insulted by this King, and I entirely understand, approve, and even with one part of my soul share your grief, even a certain contempt, perhaps, for this man. You, Athos, I understand, because this insult concerns your son. You might perhaps forgive him if he insulted you, but you cannot forgive him for insulting Raoul. And you cannot challenge the King to a duel. Do you remember how you said to Mordaunt: “A duel between us is impossible”? You should have said exactly the same to yourself, in relation to the King. So you too would have been free to act as I did, had you been in my place. You, Aramis, and you, Porthos, would have been excused for acting in this way, after all, you were declared state criminals and hunted by almost all the military forces of the country! However, it was not Louis who first started this feud, yet you stood up for your friend Fouquet. I stood up for you, my friends, and this also excuses me, but Louis is the boy whom I have known since birth, and I know him as my future King! I stood with sword in hand behind his bed, hidden by heavy curtains, when the agitated mob forcibly burst into the Louvre to make sure that the King was in Paris and did not intend to leave it! I would have killed anyone who dared to touch the royal child! And now the one to whom the protection of His Majesty was entrusted showed such treachery! I had no choice, my friends, but now I have this choice. I decide to give myself into the hands of this young man, placed above us all by fate or God or chance. One way or another, I will give myself into his hands. It is decided, and do not dissuade me.
“But, my dear d’Artagnan!” I exclaimed, not even knowing what arguments I should bring forward to convince him.
“Leave him alone, Aramis,” said Athos firmly. “His fate beckons him, and he has decided to submit to it, preferring peace of mind to physical well-being. Well, in our time, to take care of the soul is not as foolish as it looks. I can understand that. Good day, d’Artagnan! But know this: if you are imprisoned and wish to remain there, that is your right. But if the King decides to execute you, I declare that I reserve the right to save you from this fate, even if it happens on the scaffold! If God does not wish me to have time to do this, you will be avenged. And I will not be deterred by the thought that this may be undesirable for France! With my own hands I will remove Louis and place Louis Philippe on his throne. And if Philippe refuses, let the place of the murdered King be taken by his frivolous brother and namesake, Philippe d'Orl;ans, Monsieur!
"I will not allow your execution, d'Artagnan," I said. "I promise it to you, Athos, and to you, Porthos. Believe me, I have sufficient means to prevent it without killing the King."
“Good,” said Athos. “I believe you, Aramis.”
“Wouldn’t it be better for us all to remain in France and await the outcome of the matter?” asked Porthos.
"No better," replied d'Artagnan. "I will not lift a finger to restore Louis to the throne until you are in England, at my estate at Monville. And anyone who tries to do so will have to cross swords with me."
"My friends, there are two men on earth with whom I will never argue," I replied. "One of them is you, Athos, the other is you, d'Artagnan. I will not argue with Porthos, since he, I am sure, will always agree with me."
“Of course!” confirmed Porthos.
- So, if you, d'Artagnan, and you, Athos, have come to a complete agreement on this issue, and, indeed, on any other, then let us consider the matter finally resolved, - I summed up. - It only remains to agree on some details of our plan, as a result of which Louis will end up on the Throne, and Philippe - in a place where Louis will never find him, Athos, Porthos and Raoul will end up on the list of the dead and will move to England, d'Artagnan and I... We will go to meet our destiny, each in our own way!
 
Chapter 419

Now I must begin one of the saddest, but also the noblest pages of my history. It is sad because we gave up our victories and yielded to circumstances and fate. But it is noble because we recognized our mistake and did not persist in our decision. D'Artagnan, of course, acted in the most noble way. I was surprised why Athos did not try to sacrifice himself for the King as well, but after some thought I finally understood him. Athos was not one of those people who strive for self-sacrifice for her own sake. In the first days, when we had just met, he was in despair over his behavior with Milady and suffered from love that had not yet been eradicated from his heart. He had lost his taste for life. But first friendship and service to the Fatherland, and then his son and his father's love returned to him the fullness of his love for life. He would still be ready to sacrifice himself, but only for a noble goal, or for a noble man. All his life, Athos believed that the main sign of a person's nobility was his origin. Gradually, life revealed completely different values to him. And finally, he began to understand, and even saw with his own eyes, that the most noble person he had ever met could be a minor nobleman, the Chevalier d'Artagnan, who he had been long before he became a count and captain of the king's musketeers, and the Chevalier du Valon, who he had been long before he became a baron. In addition, Athos became convinced of how ignoble the most important grandees were, whose noble origins anyone could envy. And the most striking example of ignobleness in his eyes was the King's family. Even the best of them, Henry IV, was a reckless womanizer, a boor and a cad, although at times, in certain impulses, he showed generosity, indulgence and even nobility. However, this may be just Sully's tale, since we have never met him personally. Louis XIII, who marked his coming of age by killing his mother's lover, Marshal d'Ancre, and his wife Leonora Galigay, although he tried all his life to look like "the Just", appropriated this nickname to himself completely unjustifiably. Neglecting his marital duty, having one minion or another, amusing himself with young beauties and having given his state into the hands of his first minister, Cardinal Richelieu, he was simply pitiful. At the same time, he was mercilessly jealous of his wife, accusing her even of not having given birth to an heir, although he himself made almost no effort to do so! Perhaps he did the best thing by removing himself from power, for otherwise he would have done such stupid things that one could only pity France and the French. His brother Gaston was no better, betraying him dozens of times, and each time after the exposure of yet another conspiracy, humbly begging for forgiveness and betraying all his allies. Anne of Austria was the same, acting in concert with him, and only after the death of Louis XIII and his first minister Richelieu realized the frivolity of her behavior and the greatness of Richelieu. The new grandees were the same - the dukes and princes, all these Vend;mes, Lorraines and Chevreuses, La Rochefoucauld and all the rest. The best of them were the descendants of Richelieu's niece, these Gramonts, who, in any case, did not stain themselves with treason. And the worst of all in the eyes of Athos was, of course, Louis XIV. It was for this reason that Athos left France, throwing this man and his fate, and even the fate of France, out of his mind.
D'Artagnan and I were in no hurry to free Louis, but there was no time to lose, for the kingdom could not remain long without a King. If Philippe had gone with us to Pignerol, the King would certainly have found out about it and would have realized that he had been deceived. So our journey to Pignerol was carried out in secret, and for this very reason the King's return from Pignerol was also carried out in secret. Louis returned in a carriage with closed windows and showed himself to no one except us. Meanwhile Philippe, his face covered with a false beard and a traveling rag mask, was leaving France with Athos, Porthos, and Raoul. This was decided upon, and it was, indeed, the safest way for all four of them to escape from France. They had no use for duels and skirmishes on the way to England, they did not want to attract attention to themselves, but four armed horsemen with servants could not help but attract attention, so they rode very carefully. If anyone dared to detain them, Philip, showing his face, would demand by the authority of the King to retreat. And yet, he was firmly resolved not to be King any more, unless circumstances forced him to do so.
However, everything in order.
We drove to Pignerol, against our will, for a very long time, helped by a fine drizzle almost the entire way. The condition of the roads was terrible. But this was the best excuse for the fact that we drove with the leather curtains of our carriage tightly closed.
D'Artagnan took twenty musketeers to accompany the carriage. Among them should have been Fran;ois, who had been transferred from the Guards to the Musketeers for his success in the service, of which d'Artagnan was very proud. I understood that in the event that Louis ordered the arrest of his former captain, d'Artagnan wanted to be able to take a last look at his son before heading off into the unknown, or into nothingness. But I convinced d'Artagnan to leave Fran;ois in Paris.
I had my reasons for doing so and for going with the others. First of all, I had no doubt that Louis was still hostile to me, but I was also sure that his hostility did not threaten me in any way. I was still considered the ambassador of Spain and I carried with me the latest advantageous proposals for France. The man in Louis had to give in to the King, and I knew that the interests of the King would prevail over the interests of ordinary human vindictiveness. Louis would be forced to accept my presence and my freedom. But I had provided myself and my friend with a more reliable cover. It consisted in the fact that all twenty musketeers were among the initiates of the Order of the Jesuits. Without giving themselves away in any way, they obeyed Captain d'Artagnan and, of course, the King, but each of them would obey me at my first sign. So long as d'Artagnan's orders were no different from those I would have given them, they obeyed him. If d'Artagnan had been arrested and any other of these Musketeers had been appointed in his place, they would all have obeyed my orders, even if they had been contrary to the King's. If Louis had ordered them to arrest us, I could have ordered them to arrest him, and they would have obeyed my orders, not the King's. I had selected these twenty men. Another dozen equally loyal men remained in Paris. This is not much, considering that d'Artagnan already had five hundred Musketeers at his disposal. But it is a lot when you have the opportunity to select the most loyal for such a mission as lay before us. My friend sincerely believed that his journey could prove fatal for himself - either he would be pardoned, or he would be immediately arrested, after which he would be imprisoned or even executed. He considered the most probable outcome for himself to be that Louis would order him to remain in Pignerol. It would be safer and simpler for him that way. Indeed, if he were to forgive d'Artagnan, he would have to forgive him at once, definitively; in that case he would have no way of retreat. After all, in Paris he would again have five hundred musketeers under his command, and that is a force to be reckoned with! Moreover, all of them, except the thirty I have mentioned, saw in d'Artagnan the highest authority, so much did they love him. Incidentally, these thirty too, except that they would have obeyed me, as I have already said, even if my order had been contrary to the order of the captain. But neither Louis nor d'Artagnan suspected these thirty of my musketeers in their midst. They themselves knew about each other and could act together without fear of finding themselves alone.
So the upcoming meeting was just a performance for me, a life test for d'Artagnan, and a complete surprise for Louis, when decisions must be made immediately, and his entire future fate may depend on these decisions. I very much regret that there was no opportunity to let Philippe and Louis talk! It would probably have been an unforgettable scene. If I were a writer, I would have invented this scene and described it with all the nuances. But I am only a memoirist, so I write only about what actually happened, and such a meeting did not take place.
B;nigne Dauvern de Saint-Mars was quite surprised by our arrival, but we had prepared all the necessary documents, signed by Philippe, who was quite skilled in signing papers in Louis's handwriting, and the documents bore the seals of Chancellor Seguier, so that we encountered no difficulty in entering Louis's cell.
“Allow me, Aramis, to go in first and speak with the King alone,” d’Artagnan said to me.
“My friend, this is your right, and I will not even eavesdrop on your conversation!” I replied.
- On the contrary, I would ask you to stand behind the door and listen to everything that is said in the cell, while, of course, removing everyone else from the door! - objected d'Artagnan. - I would like to have you as a witness and judge of my words, but anyone else is not only unsuitable for this, but also dangerous.
D'Artagnan knocked on the door first, heard the answer "Come in", opened it and resolutely entered the first of the rooms assigned to Louis. I remained behind the doors, which d'Artagnan himself closed, but deliberately left a small crack so that I could hear their conversation.

Chapter 420

I heard their voices and can easily reconstruct what happened. I remember this conversation word for word, as if it happened yesterday.
“Your Majesty, I have come to ask your forgiveness,” said d’Artagnan.
“I cannot discuss this side of the matter here,” Louis retorted sharply. “And what good do you need my forgiveness, approval, or any other opinion or feeling of mine? Do you take me into account? My legal rights? Don’t make this comedy. If you need something from me, say it frankly, I am at your mercy.”
"Regardless of your answer to my request, you are free, and from this moment you can go wherever Your Majesty pleases," replied d'Artagnan. "I recommend that you return to the Louvre, and only there, in your office, which is now free for you, begin your royal duties, or rather, exercise all your rights as the King of France, including my full sovereign and master."
- How smoothly you speak! - Louis responded with distrust. - Have you thought up some new trap for me? Well? Confess! What kind of nastiness have you planned? To kill me while I try to escape, in order to report to my brother that from now on he need fear absolutely nothing? Or to take me to an even more terrible place? Or perhaps you want to throw me off the ramparts, or hang me here in my cell, and then draw up a report that I hanged myself on the bars of my window, using a sheet torn into strips for this?
"I understand that Your Majesty has many reasons for not trusting me, and yet I repeat: you are free," replied d'Artagnan. "If you do not trust me and wish to leave this place accompanied by other people, name the names of those people you trust, they will be brought here, after which you can order them to kill me right here, before your eyes, or, if Your Majesty is pleased to spare my life, Your Majesty can order that I be locked up in this cell for life."
- They keep saying: "Your Majesty, Your Majesty!" - said Louis in irritation. - You yourself understand perfectly well that I have not been My Majesty for a long time, and not Your Majesty either. What did you say there about those people whom I would like to choose? Do you mean to say that if I order Marshal de Gramont and Minister Colbert to appear here, they will come here to me and take me away from here to the Louvre?
"To Marshal Gramont, or his son General de Guiche, or to whomever you please, Your Majesty," replied d'Artagnan. "Your temporary forced leave is over, you are once again the King of France, and free to do as you please, in France you are everywhere at home."
- Really? - Louis asked incredulously. - What happened to Philip? Was he killed?
"Unfortunately, he died suddenly, choking on an oyster," replied d'Artagnan. "We had to announce that the King was terribly ill. Only I and the Ambassador, the Duke of Alameda, were allowed to see the deceased."
“How did you manage that?” Louis was surprised. “And the doctor?”
“The physician obeyed our orders and announced your illness without approaching your bedside, Your Majesty,” replied d’Artagnan.
The doctor was my man.
“He should be executed for such arbitrary action!” Louis was indignant.
I thought that my decision to have my doctor disappear for an indefinite period of time was very correct.
- So, Your Majesty, you will be left without doctors, - answered d'Artagnan. - You will easily find someone willing to take my position. You will probably find someone willing to take the position of doctor, too, but whether the first doctor you come across will be of any use to you is a big question.
"So, if I understand you correctly, you agreed to free me and return the throne to me, understanding that from that moment on you would be completely in my power?" Louis clarified. "Have I described the situation correctly?"
“As true as can be,” confirmed d’Artagnan.
“And your friends, I suppose, all four of them, have disappeared abroad?” asked Louis. “In a country with which we are not very friendly? Let me guess! D’Alameda, I suppose, in Spain, de la F;re and de Bragelonne in England, du Valon, perhaps, with one of them? Most likely in Spain, for he is a glutton, and England has disgusting cuisine! Am I right?”
“Du Valon, de Bragelonne and de la Fere are dead, Your Majesty, and d'Alameda stands behind this door and, if you wish to see him, will come in here at your call,” replied d'Artagnan.
- Dead, indeed! - Louis grumbled. - I suppose you have revived the old legend that du Valon was buried in the cave of Locmaria, and that de la Fere and de Bragelonne perished in Candia? Do not argue and do not swear! Do not take upon your soul the sin of perjury. Well, I do not object. Perhaps it is for the best. But what about d'Alameda? He is here, you say? He is as ready as you to place himself at my mercy?
“Unlike me, he hopes that alive and free, he will be more useful to you than executed or placed in a dungeon,” replied d’Artagnan.
"Well, if only he brought me a promise from Spain to support France in the war against Holland," Louis said thoughtfully. "Or has reason to promise to receive such a promise. Perhaps he is right."
"You see, Your Majesty, how wonderfully everything is working out?" asked d'Artagnan. "As for me, I have no promises from Spain or any other power, and in regard to myself I can only promise that if you forgive me and leave me in my post, you will not have a more faithful captain of your musketeers than I am."
“I readily believe it, captain, I readily believe it,” said Louis. “And if I don’t forgive you?”
“You are the King, Your Majesty, and you can do as you see fit with regard to your subject,” replied d’Artagnan. “In that case, for your sake, and not for mine, I beg you to return to Paris, to the Louvre, under my protection, or at least under the protection of my musketeers incognito. So that even they will not know who they are guarding, who is returning to Paris from Pignerol. In that case, all those unpleasant events that have taken place will not be made public, as if they had not happened at all. This will greatly simplify the further management of the state. If everything that has happened becomes public, I fear a new Fronde, and then… Then I would prefer to die at your command, or immediately, as soon as it begins, to give my life for you, so as not to be a witness to what happens. After all, this could become a new civil war.”
"You are right, d'Artagnan, your advice will be accepted by me," Louis agreed. "I am ready, wearing a mask, to leave Pignerol under your escort as a criminal, trusting you despite the fact that you do not deserve this trust. If you speak the truth, this is, indeed, the best option. If you have planned something bad, may God be your judge."
"You will not repent, Your Majesty!" cried d'Artagnan. "But I will not escort you, I will accompany you."
"And in that case, de Saint-Mars will record in his memory the release of a dangerous criminal?" asked Louis. "It could give rise to new undesirable rumors!"
“De Saint-Mars is in your service, he will not reveal state secrets,” said d’Artagnan, not particularly confidently.
"He has a wife, he has a staff of soldiers - a whole garrison, every soldier in the city has a wife or a girlfriend, or a brother or a sister," Louis objected. "Rumors will spread, and they will reach Paris faster than you think. Tell me, who did you put in his place under the guise of Philippe, when you reported to me that Philippe had been placed in Pignerol?"
“A scoundrel who deserves a much worse fate than to play Philippe at Pignerol, wearing an iron mask from time to time,” replied d’Artagnan.
"Is he still alive? Where is he now?" asked Louis.
“He is alive, and he is now in Pignerol, on another floor, still a prisoner,” replied d’Artagnan.
“Bring him to this cell and have him hide his face under a hood,” said Louis. “Then you will bring me out in his clothes. De Cinq-Mars must not know that the secret prisoner has been released. Your scoundrel will take my place and will continue to receive increased allowance. By the way, d’Artagnan, take note: you are not a very good judge of character! You recommended your quartermaster de Cinq-Mars to me for the post of commandant of Pignerol, informing me that he was the best candidate for this post. You were mistaken. I do not receive the allowance that I appointed for myself. I know how much money is allocated for the maintenance of this secret prisoner, and I can judge from the crumbs that I actually receive how much your prot;g; de Cinq-Mars is inclined to steal. I do not receive a quarter of what I am entitled to.”
"He will be punished!" cried d'Artagnan.
"By no means!" Louis objected. "After all, no one must know that I have left the fortress. Consequently, no measures should be taken on facts that are known only to me."
"You are extremely prudent, Your Majesty," d'Artagnan sincerely admired. "But there is one difficulty. The papers say that the prisoner under whose name you are registered must be released. But according to the plan you specified, we must release another."
“Have you already shown the papers to de Saint-Mar?” Louis inquired.
“So far, only those that give me and the Duke of Alameda the right to a secret meeting with you,” replied d’Artagnan.
- Wonderful! - exclaimed Louis. - I will write the order for my release with my own hand! But it will be an order for the release of the man who will replace me in this cell, so formally you will not release me, but him.
“But Your Majesty’s order is not valid without the seal of Chancellor Seguier,” objected d’Artagnan.
"You will give me the order for the release of the prisoner, which has not yet been shown to de Saint-Mars, I will make corrections to it, and next to them I will put my signature," Louis explained. "The seal and signature of the chancellor on these papers, I believe, are already there."
“That solves all the problems,” agreed d’Artagnan.
“Give me the order,” demanded Louis. “Do you have it?”
D'Artagnan handed the papers to the King.
“I’ll have to ask Saint-Mars for a pen and ink, it might make him suspicious,” Louis said thoughtfully.
“I have a pen and a travelling inkstand,” I said, entering the room through the doors which I had opened, and presenting the said articles to Louis with a gallant bow.
"You were eavesdropping behind the door!" said Louis, laughing. "I thought so!"
“I won’t deny it,” I agreed. “After all, I’m an envoy, and no diplomat would take advantage of the opportunity to eavesdrop on someone else’s conversation!”
Louis took an inkwell and a pen, made the necessary corrections to the document and returned it to d'Artagnan.
"Go ahead!" he told him.
“So I am forgiven?” asked d’Artagnan.
"Do not rush me with an answer," said the King. "You will know your decision in due time."
“Naive d’Artagnan!” I thought. “He has lived to this age, and still believes that the momentary words of a monarch, or anyone else, have any significance! It is not words that are important, but deeds! Well, or words that are spoken in the form of an order! But I am mistaken, d’Artagnan is not so naive! He simply continues his agitation, continues the work he has begun through conversations. Conversations are sometimes very important! In vain did I characterize words so condescendingly. Even a look, even the movement of the eyelids or eyebrows sometimes has meaning, even the slightest movement of the fingers can tell a lot. Only promises that are given with the most innocent look have no meaning. These are precisely the ones that cannot be trusted, as poor Fouquet had the opportunity to see for himself. So the fact that Louis did not promise complete forgiveness is a good sign, and d’Artagnan has read Louis perfectly, whom he knows much better than I do!”

Chapter 421

D'Artagnan left the cell and went to de Saint-Mars.
“My dear de Cinq-Mars,” he said, “obtain His Majesty’s orders. In short, have a prisoner named Hercule Antonio Marchialli brought to me. Then leave us. Monsieur d’Herblay and I will confront Marchialli with Eustache Dauger. No witnesses. The King’s special orders. Then we will take Marchialli with us. Clear our way. The secret prisoner must meet no one on the road, and no one must see him when he leaves Pignerol. The release of Eustache Dauger must be a secret to all but you. Do not enter the fact of his release in the register. Remember that both prisoners, Eustache Dauger and Marchialli, will be listed as being in your fortress. Perhaps we will return Eustache Dauger to you one day, but the matter will be treated with the same secrecy. That is why none of the soldiers of the garrison must see him. All secrecy measures regarding the Marscialli are maintained, including the wearing of the Iron Mask in all cases where his face can be seen by anyone. Do not ask why, just read the instructions, they are exactly the same as what I have laid out for you.
Then d'Artagnan laid the documents before de Cinq-Mars. He was right, for the documents, with the amendments made by the King, prescribed to de Cinq-Mars exactly what he had briefly stated.
Everything was done exactly as prescribed and as d'Artagnan had verbally outlined in his brief instructions.
Louis put on the doublet that had previously been worn by d'Elsorte, who had been kept until then under the name of Eustache Dauger.
It was fortunate that Louis had grown a full beard in the style of his grandfather, Henry IV. In this form, he was almost unrecognizable. This allowed us to deviate slightly from the planned secrecy protocol that we had been working on before we saw him at Pignerol. A bearded Louis would not necessarily have to wear a mask in public at all times. In the pre-dawn and after-dawn twilight, he could easily walk around without a mask or even a hood without much risk of being recognized.
“Listen, d’Elsorte,” said d’Artagnan. “You are lucky. You will be kept better now, you will not live in a cramped cell, but in a spacious two-room apartment, which, in addition, has luxurious furnishings. You will be fed considerably better. You have already lived here and remember how much better the conditions of existence here were than those to which you have exchanged them. You are going back. Protests are still useless, the guards have been instructed, but from now on you have somewhat fewer reasons for protest. I cannot say that I am upset or pleased by these changes in your fate. You are simply a splinter that has been caught up in the current. Depending on the whim of circumstances, you move from the best apartments to the worst and back again, nothing depends on you now. But remember that you yourself chose your fate the moment you broke your word as a nobleman and an officer. As for me, in my opinion, fate is too generous to you. In wartime, after what you have allowed yourself to do, I would send you into an attack under conditions where your chances of survival would be minimal, where one in ten would survive. If God allowed you to return from such an attack alive, I would consider that He had forgiven you. Perhaps I will yet have the opportunity to offer you such a method of rehabilitation, if you wish.
- Oh, no, d'Artagnan! - d'Elsorte objected. - I would rather spend the rest of my life in a doghouse than go on the attack with such a slim chance of staying alive! I don't give a damn about your forgiveness or God's either! And spending the rest of my days in these two rooms suits me just fine. When you have an option for me with three rooms, I'll be glad to move there!
“So much the better if your choice coincides with the choice of Destiny, or the necessity of state,” replied d’Artagnan. “Call it what you will. My conversation with you is over, I hope forever. Farewell.”
We left the fortress of Pignerol and rode in a carriage on the return journey.
"It seems that we are really leaving Pignerol and going towards Paris?" asked Louis, after he had been looking for a long time through the crack between the thick curtains of the carriage windows.
“Your Majesty, I repeat, we have not deceived you, and you have now actually regained your position as King of France,” replied d’Artagnan. “And if you maintain incognito, it is only in the interests of a more successful return to this hypostasis in Paris, in the Louvre. Only in order to avoid unnecessary excitement. If you fear that you are in danger, you are free to show your face to our escort, consisting of twenty of the king’s musketeers, and therefore your musketeers. You can ask them to whom they obey, and they will answer that they obey you. But they will be very surprised that, having left their King ill in the Louvre, they found him in a carriage returning from Pignerol. This is the only reason why we continue to observe your incognito.” But this is no longer happening at my command, but because you approved of our plan and ordered that we carry it out and bring it to completion.
Louis looked at me doubtfully.
“Exactly so, Your Majesty,” I confirmed. “If you insist, we can stop the carriage so that you can transfer to any other carriage you have hired and choose the escorts you deem necessary. You can also arrange for you to be taken not to the Louvre, but to any other city in your France.”
"Well, if it's as you say, I suppose I can accept your plan as reasonable," Louis agreed. "I mean, it's perfectly acceptable to me. Whether it's acceptable to you is another matter, but it doesn't concern me at the moment. If you've gone along with it, you obviously have your reasons."
“Exactly so, Your Majesty,” I confirmed.
"Are we going via Lyon?" asked Louis.
“Yes, Your Majesty, if you don’t mind,” replied d’Artagnan.
"Are we going to stop at various hotels along the way for the night?" Louis asked.
“Not only for the night, where we will have dinner and breakfast, but also for lunch, if possible,” I answered.
"Do I have to wear a mask?" the King asked.
"A light travel mask made of soft fabric is desirable, but if you object, we can try to get by with just a hooded cape," said d'Artagnan. "I will go to the hotel, rent the best rooms for you, after which you will only have to proceed to them from your carriage."
“From my carriage?” the King asked incredulously.
“From your carriage, Your Majesty, accompanied by your humble servants, me and the captain, and also under the protection of your musketeers, if you please agree to such a plan,” I confirmed.
“Well, in that case I’ll take a nap,” said Louis and closed his eyes.
D'Artagnan and I exchanged glances.
It was quite obvious that Louis simply did not want to talk to us, but he had calmed down a little on his own account. All he needed now was to wait patiently for his return to the Louvre. He simply needed to kill time. The best way was to pretend to be asleep. This would give him a chance to overhear our conversation and, perhaps, if we were up to something dishonest, to learn about it and take countermeasures.
We rode in silence or talked in low voices about all sorts of trifles. It must be said that riding on a rough road in a carriage with excellent springs rocks you and promotes sleep, especially if you decide to pretend to be asleep. It seems that one of the ancients came up with a riddle: "What is it that in order for it to happen, it is necessary to pretend that it happened?" The answer to this riddle was: "Sleep." A person will never fall asleep until he closes his eyes, that is, pretends to be asleep. But the truth is that he who pretends to be asleep for a long time, in the absence of external stimuli, will most likely soon really fall asleep. Soon we really heard rhythmic snoring, which testified to the fact that the King of France was sleeping a deep youthful sleep. Who would have thought, looking at him, that before him was the King of France, who had been in prison twice, something that none of his subjects even suspected, and who from now on will again become King for a long time? I would say to this: "This is how earthly glory passes, and this is how, strangely enough, it returns!"
Our journey passed without any particular incidents.
Early Tuesday morning the carriage arrived in Paris. Accompanied by our cortege, we drove up to the front steps of the Louvre. D'Artagnan stepped out of the carriage and ordered the guard to line up along the steps.
"The Italian Ambassador, the Duke of Alameda, together with the secret envoy of a friendly power!" he informed the guards, which also included his musketeers. "Everyone turn your backs to the center of the stairs. No one must see the secret envoy!"
His order was carried out.
We opened the carriage doors. D'Artagnan gave His Majesty his hand so that he could lean on it as he descended the two steps on the carriage's step.
Louis went to his quarters. There he looked around and noted with satisfaction that little had changed in his absence.
He took the bell and rang it.
His secretary Hubert entered the office.
"Hubert, I have been ill for a long time, but now I am completely recovered," said Louis. "Have a bath prepared, and while it is being prepared, call my barber. I did not shave while I was ill."
Hubert bowed and went out to carry out His Majesty's instructions.
A couple of hours later, it was announced that King Louis XIV of France had recovered from a serious illness. In a sense, he had.
Louis announced through his secretary that he was appointing an audience for me and the captain of the musketeers, d'Artagnan, for tomorrow.
"Come in, gentlemen," he said in a soft tone, full of calm confidence. "You may find it hard to believe, but I am glad to see you. I find it hard to believe myself."
“Your Majesty, we are happy too,” I replied.
"Whatever your decision may be, Your Majesty, regarding my fate, I assure you once again that I will accept it with gratitude, even if it is the last feeling I can express aloud for the rest of my life," said d'Artagnan. "If you decide to spare my life, I will seek to give it for you, and until then you will have no more devoted and faithful servant than I."
“I know and believe it, since you have already proved your words with your deeds,” replied Louis. “If you had intended to commit a new evil against me, you had more than enough opportunities to do so. I must thank you, gentlemen, for the lesson. Now I know that even the most devoted people can rebel against a monarch who has encroached on what is sacred to them. For you, d’Artagnan, friendship with your comrades in arms is sacred. This is remarkable. For this, one can only praise you and your former captain, Monsieur de Treville. Without such comradeship, his troops would have been much weaker. Now I understand perfectly why skirmishes between the king’s musketeers and Cardinal Richelieu’s guards most often ended in favor of the musketeers, even when they were in the minority. I know about one such skirmish very well. I have heard that the guards suddenly attacked five of you from behind and killed two of you with a cowardly blow in the back, and that the Count de la F;re was seriously wounded. But the remaining musketeers, the gentlemen du Valon and d'Herblay, who is present, defeated the guards, who outnumbered them twice. Incidentally, I have heard that my brother has given the Baron du Valon the title of Count of Pierrefonds and transformed the Viscountcy of Bragelonne into a county. I confirm this decision. I have analyzed the documents signed in my absence. I have no complaints against them, they were made in the interests of the state. I have not forgotten that Philippe, who usurped my rights, had every opportunity to fulfill functions in my family that he should never have assumed. However, it is fortunate for him that no heirs have appeared during this time. The Queen told me that I have been very cold to her in recent years. I admit that he has not violated my rights in this area, but the very idea of such an action fills me with indignation. If he were standing here before me now, I would send him not to prison, but to the scaffold for such insolence. And although something tells me that you, d'Artagnan, and you, d'Alameda, lied to me about Philippe being dead, I prefer to believe this lie and forgive him and forget his existence, as well as forget all the other details of the episode that happened with me and with him, so that it will not interfere with me in the future to fulfill my functions as a monarch, the King of France. I intend to learn a lesson from everything that happened and turn it to my advantage and the kingdom. If Philippe ever shows himself somewhere, declares his existence, my vengeance will be cruel, I will remember everything to you, gentlemen. But if I never hear about him and this whole story again, live in peace. I have decided so, this matter is now closed and forgotten. Captain of the Musketeers d'Artagnan, return to your duties. And keep in mind that we have a serious military campaign ahead of us in Holland. Prepare for it. For you, Duke d'Alameda, this is an order to prepare a new package of agreements in this regard with Spain. I will not detain you any longer, gentlemen.
We bowed and left.
Thus ended the most unpleasant epic of the King of France, Louis XIV.

Chapter 422

The problem of the evil plans of Antoine and Marie-Madeleine, who had assumed the name of Marquis de Brinvilliers, remained unresolved. This evil couple was hatching their plans for revenge and they had to be stopped.
Marie-Madeleine had apparently conspired with the Chevalier de Lorraine. Consequently, the Chevalier de Lorraine was to be counted among our enemies.
I asked Bazin to invite one of my best detectives, Auguste Simonet, to see me the next day. The next day he came to me with a report.
“Monseigneur,” he said, “I have found out some curious details about the person you are interested in.”
“Go ahead,” I replied.
— The lover of the Marquise — let me call her that, although we both know she is no Marquise — so her lover, named Sainte-Croix, died not long ago. The cause of death was an accident. Sainte-Croix was engaged in chemical experiments and in order to prevent toxic fumes from entering the body when breathing, he used a glass mask with a tube and complex filters. The mask was attached to his head with ribbons. A special form ensured a tight fit to the face, the mask was made from a clay cast of Sainte-Croix's own face. So the ribbons snapped, the mask broke, Sainte-Croix inhaled toxic fumes. He was unable to save himself.
“I am aware of that,” I said.
- He had no children or other heirs, - Simone continued. - Therefore, a commission was created to assess the inheritance to find second or third-hand heirs, or to retain the inheritance for the benefit of the state. The commission was very surprised that Saint-Croix had a whole chemical laboratory with a huge amount of equipment - various heaters, flasks, tubes, retorts, coils and other vessels. It is unlikely, he made them himself, most likely he ordered them somewhere. Only Venetian masters could make something like that! It was not cheap.
“Continue,” I asked.
— And then a box was found with a note saying “ To be opened in case of death of the Marquise de Brinvilliers before her death.” In addition, it was alarming that immediately after his death his mistress Marie-Madeleine de Brinvilliers quickly left France.
- Really? - I was surprised. - Where did she go?
“We will find out, Monseigneur,” Simone replied. “After the discovery of Sainte-Croix’s handwritten statement, the case was classified, but not for us, Monseigneur. We know that Sainte-Croix confessed to making poisons and using them with his girlfriend Marie-Madeleine. After that, the mixtures found in this box were given to small animals – mice and rats. They all died. These facts, as well as your warning and instructions, forced us to investigate more thoroughly and officially involve the Order’s commission in the case, especially in terms of interrogating witnesses. Without physical pressure on them, of course. Several witnesses expressed their suspicions, which led to the arrest of the not-so-loyal La Chaussee. Like the imaginary Marquis de Brinvilliers, he had previously tried to hide, but was arrested on September 4. He has not confessed to anything yet, but rest assured, he will. Since his guilt has been proven, the interrogation will not be as delicate as it was with the witnesses.
"Of course, Simone, very well, keep me informed," I replied. "All information received from him must be immediately reported to me. And also, be especially diligent in searching for Marie-Madeleine and do not lose sight of the actions of the Chevalier de Lorraine. Find other people for this work from among the nobles loyal to us at the King's court.
“It will be done, Monsignor,” Simone replied.
I gave him money for expenses and he left my house.
Two hours later Simone sent me a note informing me that the Marchioness had left for England.
To England! To where Athos, Porthos and Raoul were! It was extremely dangerous for them!
My friends had left France, among other things, to be away from the poisoner who had planned to destroy them and who had already made one attempt to put her plans into action! And now they were in the same country! This could not be a mere coincidence! Therefore, I myself must go to England to protect them. I had, of course, sent a letter to Athos and Porthos, but the letter might be late, and it might even get lost on the way, or not reach its addressees for one reason or another. Besides, knowing my friends, I was sure that after they read this letter, they would do nothing to protect themselves from her, as I had already observed here in Paris! Athos’s carelessness and faith in the best even when there is no basis for such faith can only be compared with the serenity of Porthos, who takes action only when he sees before him an obvious enemy, with a weapon aimed at him. In all other cases, Porthos prefers to deal with a piglet with horseradish, or a stuffed goose, a leg of venison or rabbit pate, rather than with the poisoner who planned to send him to the next world.
I also remembered that Philip was probably in England with them. It would be a pity if such a noble Prince fell victim to the fatal designs of a treacherous poisoner. But if she recognized in him a man who resembled the King like two peas in a pod, the consequences could be even more disastrous!
“Bazin, we are going to England!” I said.
“Tomorrow or the day after tomorrow?” asked Bazin.
“Immediately,” I replied. “A quarter of an hour to get ready is the maximum I can give you while I write three letters to those who will replace me in my affairs in Paris.”
A quarter of an hour later, Bazin and I were racing to Calais, six hours later we were in Beauvais, where we changed horses and had a quick bite to eat. Another six hours later, almost at midnight, we were in Amiens, where we spent the night. At four o'clock in the morning, in the pre-dawn twilight, we left Amiens. Another five hours to Aberville, where we again changed horses and ate, another five hours to Berck, another change of horses, and finally, by the evening of the next day, we were already in Calais. I had no problem finding and hiring a light and fast yacht to Dover. At noon the next day I had already arrived in Monqueville. Not far from Monqueville, a horseman rushed towards us, with whom we passed each other, since the road forked at this point and then converged again. The horseman galloped along the right branch of the road, and we - along the left branch.
As I approached the place, I noticed a grey-haired man who looked at us very closely, then jumped up and ran to warn his masters about the arrival of two horsemen.
“It’s Grimaud,” Bazin shouted to me.
I took a closer look and came to the same conclusion.
We had hardly entered the courtyard when Porthos was already running towards us, and Athos was following him, not so quickly.
- Bah! Bah! Who do I see? - shouted Porthos in his bass voice. - Aramis! We are terribly glad to see you here!
I jumped off my horse and threw the reins to Grimaud, who had come up to me.
"I am glad to see you, my dear friend, although I foresee that you have arrived, of course, not with good news, judging by the lather of your horses!" said Athos. "It seems that you and Bazin did not waste your time and hardly rested at all on the road?"
“There are good reasons for that,” I replied, embracing Athos, after which I managed to embrace Porthos as well, deftly avoiding injury from his strong arms.
"Do we need to hurry?" asked Athos.
"Not anymore, thank God!" I replied. "As long as you are alive and eating healthy food from the local stores, I can rest easy for a while knowing that I arrived on time."
“Yes, we eat mostly local produce,” Athos replied.
“In that case, Bazin and I will have a bite to eat on the way,” I said.
“We’ll just have a tasting of local wine!” Porthos rejoiced.
"D'Artagnan's manager makes wine?" I asked in surprise. "I never expected that grapes could be grown in England!"
- D'Artagnan has no vineyards, nor does he have a manager, and his neighbor, or rather, his neighbor, treated us to wine, - answered Athos. - She said that she was on very friendly terms with d'Artagnan when he lived here, and therefore his friends are her friends for her! An extremely kind lady!
“Yes,” confirmed Porthos. “It’s even surprising that such an enlightened lady lives in such a remote place! By the way, she speaks French fluently. She said that she lived in France for some time. Hence the preference for wine over beer, which is completely unexpected for England. So she has vineyards, which she promised to show us in the near future!”
- Porthos! There are no vineyards here, nor can there be! - I said. - Athos! D'Artagnan cannot have acquaintances in Monkville and the neighborhood, since he has never been to this estate given to him by General Monk. Not once in his life! Is this lady a blonde? With gray eyes? Looks like she's twenty? Is this tooth missing?
I showed one of my teeth, which, by the way, was in place.
Athos turned pale.
"The Marquise de Brinvilliers?" he asked.
"Yes," I replied. "Luckily, her lover and accomplice in the poisonings died of his own poison and helped expose her. She somehow found out about it and left France. As soon as I learned that she was heading for England, I rushed here."
"She's a witch!" he whispered. "If she found us so quickly, she'll find Raoul just as quickly!"
"Then my drive wasn't in vain!" I said. "Were you planning to try the wine you gave me this evening?"
"You can't trust anyone," said Porthos, shocked. "Only each other in our close circle! Only such trusted friends as you, Aramis!"
- You save us again, my dear friend! - said Athos. - Let's go after her quickly! She must still be where we left her!
"She's not there anymore," I objected. "On the way I met a horseman, now I understand that it was a horsewoman. She left this area.
"But Raoul?" asked Athos. "We must warn him!"
— Do not worry, Athos, I received a letter by pigeon post at Dover that Raoul, under the name of Captain Bats, has put to sea. He will be out of reach for some time. As for the Marchioness, a letter with her description has been sent by the same pigeon post to London. Some of my friends will take care to find her and neutralize her, or at least inform me of her whereabouts. We can rest a little and discuss our further plans. But where is Prince Philip?
"He's in the mezzanine," replied Porthos. "He's probably writing his twentieth letter to the Princess of Monaco and is weeping over her portrait."

Chapter 423

We sat down at the table with pleasure, just like in the good old days. The only thing missing was d'Artagnan, but this time we had Philippe with us, who behaved in a simple and comradely manner. It was a little unusual to sit at the same table with him like that. How he resembled King Louis XIV! But he was tired of ruling a country like France. I believe that in all of France there was no other person who would voluntarily give up the throne, if you don't count Athos and d'Artagnan. As for Porthos, he would probably agree, but he would appoint me as first minister. If I had agreed to that. However, being first minister under King Porthos is the same as being the King yourself! How I relaxed over a glass of Burgundy, and what wild thoughts came into my head!
- Listen, Your Highness! - I suddenly said, rather thoughtlessly. - If I am not mistaken, then not only are you passionately in love with the Princess of Monaco, but she is also in love with you? And you could not resist telling her that you were leaving France and returning the throne to your royal brother?
- You have guessed, but not completely, Duke, - answered Philip. - The fact is that I gave up the throne at her suggestion and almost at her insistence! She said that she would have loved me more and more tenderly if I were not King. What is this - if not an order to leave the throne? In any case, from the lips of the one you love, such words cannot be perceived as anything other than an order! And here I am, alas, far from her, but I console myself with the fact that now she loves me even more!
“And what does this kind of love, consisting only of letters, give you?” asked Porthos.
— First of all, the certainty that she loves me not as a King standing above her, but as a Prince standing on the same level with her, and taking into account my flight from France, standing even much lower than her! What is this if not the most genuine love? And love, when it is genuine, even if it is nourished only by letters, is of much greater value to me than love not for me, but for the place of King that I occupy, such love that I could scoop up by the handful, and have become somewhat a part of it, being King, which, frankly speaking, I deeply regret! It would have been better if I had not stained my soul by associating with noble ladies, who differ from cocottes only in the price for which they sell their caresses. And what is that price? The gracious attitude of the King? Is this a worthy price for a woman’s pride and honor, a fitting price for a sincere feeling? This is just the price of the most banal deal: madam or mademoiselle rises above her friends and, in gratitude for this, agrees to humiliate herself before the King to the status of a concubine!
"You know, of course, that in the eyes of the cream of the French nobility, unlike me and d'Artagnan, you are all considered dead, including you, Your Highness?" I asked. "By the way, I must say that Louis did not believe this legend, but approved of it even in relation to you, Your Highness. So the King knows that you are alive, but he agreed to consider you dead and not to search for you.
"Very kind of him," Athos replied with a grin. "This is truly a royal reward for a quarter of a century of service! First His Majesty ordered us to be executed, and then graciously agreed to consider us dead because each of us almost died."
“But our idea still works somewhat more effectively than it did for the young lovers in a certain Shakespeare’s tragedy,” I objected.
“Who is this Shakespeare?” asked Philip.
“He is currently one of the most famous writers and playwrights in England, and will remain so for probably another thirty or forty years, until a new one appears and he is completely forgotten,” I explained.
“I’ll have to read some of this Shakespeare, if there are translations into French,” said Philip.
- Unfortunately, it will not be Shakespeare, since there are always considerable difficulties with translating poetry into another language, - I answered. - However, most of his dramatic works are written in blank verse. They have only rhythm, but no rhyme. So such works might not suffer as much in translation as his sonnets. But at present Shakespeare is almost unknown in France, and it is unlikely that he will ever become famous. Athos introduced me to Shakespeare, and he has the floor.
- Yes, Your Highness, living in England, it is almost impossible not to become acquainted with Shakespeare, - agreed Athos. - Our friend Aramis is talking about one of the most famous works of this playwright in England. It is about two lovers, a young man Romeo and a girl Julia, or, as she is affectionately called in the Italian manner, Juliet.
"She has the same name as Cardinal Mazarin?" Philippe asked in surprise.
"I've never thought about it, but you're right," Athos agreed. "It's a very common female name in Italy. The tragedy tells us that the families of the unfortunate lovers were mortal enemies, like the Coligny and Guise families."
“Which of them was a Catholic and which a Huguenot?” Philip asked.
"Their feud was not based on religious differences," Athos replied. "In fact, it was simply passed down through generations, and no one remembered the reasons for the feud. Perhaps it was some trifle."
"And that is why the feud was deadly," I explained. "So cruel that any Montague who met a Capulet would seek to kill him, just as any Capulet would seek to kill every Montague."
"So, in the end, they killed each other and none of the heroes of the tragedy remained by its end?" Philip asked.
— That’s the ending of most of Shakespeare’s tragedies, like Hamlet and Titus Andronicus, but not many people died in this tragedy, — I clarified. — Let’s get to the end. Realizing that they were not destined to unite, since both families were categorically against it, the young lovers resorted to a cunning method. On the advice of a priest, Juliet drank a certain drink that had the effect of making her fall into a sleep that was outwardly indistinguishable from death. The priest assumed that after the burial procedure, she would come back to life after some time, after which she would belong only to Romeo.
“Do such potions really exist?” Philip asked.
"Of course not!" I said. "But writers always make up God knows what for the sake of an exciting plot. Never believe any book written for the amusement of the public."
“Aren’t they all written for that purpose?” Philip asked in surprise.
“Everything, except the police report book,” I agreed. “That’s why you shouldn’t trust any book, including those police report books.”
“And the Bible?” Philip was surprised.
“Bibles in particular,” said Athos.
“And Machiavelli?” asked Philip.
“Machiavelli can be trusted,” I replied. “He didn’t write for entertainment. You can also trust Michel de Montaigne, who wrote exclusively for himself. But let’s return to Shakespeare. The lady believed the priest and drank the potion, but they forgot to warn the young man about their trick. This young man, having learned that his beloved had died, stabbed himself. When Juliet came to, she saw Romeo dead at her feet and in despair stabbed herself with the same dagger.
- I have heard a similar story before, but it was about the ancient Roman commander Antony and his beloved Cleopatra! - Philip recalled. - Having heard that Antony was killed and believing this news, Cleopatra allowed a poisonous snake to bite her, and Antony, who arrived, found her dead, pierced himself with a sword.
"Shakespeare has a tragedy about that too," Athos said. "So what moral did you want to draw from Shakespeare, Aramis?"
“As for Juliet, I would draw a moral in the sense that one should not trust priests in everything,” said Philip.
"That's a pebble in my garden!" I replied with a laugh. "I'll make a correction: you shouldn't trust Italian priests!"
“What a man Giulio Mazarin was!” added Athos.
“Duke, I didn’t mean to offend you,” said Philip.
“And you didn’t offend me, because I never take offense at the truth,” I said. “Sometimes I even challenged those who told the truth to a duel, but that was a long time ago and, frankly speaking, it wasn’t true.”
“Besides, I don’t consider you a priest at all,” added Philip.
“And in vain,” I objected. “You have no idea to what extent I have become a priest lately.”
“Our Aramis is even more of a Catholic than the Pope,” Porthos interjected.
"Only his equal, or soon to be so," I answered. "But to the point! I merely wanted to say that by feigning death, you, Athos, you, Porthos, and you, Your Highness, have radically changed your fate, leaving the world that you have grown weary of and moving to a place where you can live more comfortably. In any case, you are now your own true masters. This applies especially to you, Your Highness."
“That’s true, I agree,” Philip confirmed.
"Isn't it time to invite your beloved Princess of Monaco to this club of imaginary dead people?" I asked. "That is, in that case she will no longer be the Princess of Monaco, but will remain only Catherine Charlotte de Gramont. You, of course, will not succeed in marrying her honestly, but we have a thousand examples before our eyes of lovers who are not spouses but live as spouses, and millions of examples of spouses who do not live a married life at all."
“You are an expert on these matters, Aramis!” said Porthos with a laugh, realizing that I would not be offended by him for such liberty.
“Like you, Porthos, and even like our dear Athos!” I replied.
“And I can’t hide it in any way, since Raoul is a clear confirmation of it,” Athos agreed.
“The only question is whether Catherine Charlotte will agree to such a proposal,” I said.
“That’s a big question, really,” Philip said thoughtfully.

Chapter 424

Philippe was certainly in love with Catherine Charlotte. She was an attractive lady and desirable for a young man like Philippe. She managed to make him fall in love with her. Even I myself thought for a while that this lady was the ideal choice for him. I must admit that I did not know the customs established at the court of Louis XIV well enough. I did not see this lady as she really was. It is true that she was in love with Philippe, that is true. It is true that she preferred Philippe to Louis. Preferred, nothing more. When a married lady seeks gallant adventures, we men do not blame her, since we ourselves are exactly the same. But on two conditions. The first is if we are not her husband, but this is not always the case. There are also husbands who arrange the happiness of their family on the excessive compliance of their spouse, especially when the attack on her honor is carried out by the King or, at least, the Prince. The second condition is if we are not lovers of these ladies. Here too we cannot speak of a strict rule, because all lovers easily tolerate the fact that their beloved also belongs to her husband, but much lesser lovers just as easily tolerate the fact that their beloved has other lovers. Oh, if only they were as strict with themselves!
So, Catherine Charlotte certainly loved Philippe, and I will even say more – she was in love with him. But that is not much. It only means that she preferred his company to that of her husband. Almost all ladies are like that, at least the ladies of society, the ladies who surround the King! But I must say that Catherine Charlotte extended her attention beyond the small circle of her husband and lover. Her interests were more diverse.
It is worth recalling a little about the character of Catherine Charlotte, Princess of Monaco. In this respect, she was a match for her brother, the Count de Guiche. These children of Marshal de Gramont were spoiled and daring, ambitious and proud, both of them were eager for glory, both were eager to rule over those who ruled the country. And they resorted to the same means to achieve this goal - gallant connections with persons from the royal house.
De Guiche was not content with being the closest friend and confidant of the King's brother himself, Philippe d'Orl;ans, Monsieur. He was more than a friend, if you know what I mean. But that was not enough for him. It was not enough for him that almost any lady of the court, whether a maid of honor to the Queen or a maid of honor to the Princess, was ready to show him those favors that ambitious men seek from the beauties around them. He needed, at the very least, the wife of his sovereign, his master, Monsieur's intimate friend, he needed the Princess Henrietta, Madame, sister of King Charles II of England. And, it must be said, he was very successful in winning her heart. However, his victories were not complete, since he harmed himself by not being able to hide them from the King, and the King was dissatisfied with this, not so much because he defended the rights of his brother, as because he felt himself deprived in this case.
De Guiche's sister, Catherine Charlotte, also loved gallant adventures. Even when she was pregnant by her husband, whom she had married only recently, she did not stop flirting with the King, and not only. Philippe was convinced that she loved only him, and that she would have rejected Louis XIV. Naive! Not only were they similar in appearance, but their character was not so different that she could not allow one what she allowed the other. We were all blind, believing that she was in love only with Philippe. She, like all the ladies of the court, was in love, first of all, with herself, and secondly - with power, with wealth, with the influence of the first person in the state, with the King, and it is not so important who this King was, Philippe or Louis.
Yes, I must admit, Catherine Charlotte did not avoid Louis's attentions at all, and if I wrote earlier that she was not, it was only in order not to reveal her character ahead of time, since it was not immediately revealed to me either. However, I do not blame her for anything. Such are the daughters of Eve!
She had been trying to seduce the King long before that little adventure I had with him. And at first, she was doing quite well!
But she was dogged by bad luck. Once, even her brother played a nasty joke on her. Knowing that she had an appointment with the King, he locked the doors of the room where Catherine Charlotte was waiting for the King, so that when Louis XIV showed up for the appointment, he was forced to find only a locked door. He did not believe Catherine Charlotte that it was not she who had locked the door, but someone else, so he considered it a bad joke on the part of the failed heroine of another gallant story. He was so offended by Catherine Charlotte that he practically ceased to be interested in her.
De Guiche was a fine fellow, though! After all, Catherine Charlotte always helped him in his attacks on Madame's moral principles! After all, she was a lady-in-waiting to Princess Henrietta, who trusted her very much, even in the most intimate matters! And while poor Catherine Charlotte tried to put in a good word for her brother de Guiche with Madame, this rake harmed her in her affairs with the King simply out of mischief.
This is where he got burned. But that's a completely different story.
So, we decided to offer Catherine Charlotte an escape from the house of her husband, the Prince of Monaco, believing that she was madly in love with Philippe.
It was a fool's errand. She loved not so much Philippe as first the mystery that surrounded him, then the splendor of his position, the status of the King of France. There was something in her for him beyond all that, but at that time it had not yet developed, had not grown to the point where she would dare to do such a thing. It took strong feelings, such as the fear of losing a loved one, regret for possible losses, remorse and God knows what else, before her unformed feeling for Philippe, which we took for love, in reality became the love for which people are ready to commit any stupidity. So I tell you, our idea was a success, but not this time, but later, much later. Only after Philippe had survived a series of terrible dangers, threats to his life.
It seems that I have become philosophical when I should have been a chronicler of what I have decided to write these memoirs about.
While the events I have described above were taking place, events were developing even more rapidly in France, and they affected my dearest friend in the most immediate way. But perhaps they are so significant that in order to describe them I will begin a new chapter, where I will describe them rather briefly, since I myself was not a witness to all that happened.

Chapter 425

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

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

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

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

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

Chapter 426

Fate was kind to our friend. He survived thanks to the talent of the regimental surgeon, and even more so due to the selfless struggle for his life of a certain nurse, a nice girl named Suzanne. She admired his feat so much that she went with him on the ship and did not leave the wounded man, caring for him day and night, and if there was a need to leave, these absences were only when he slept under the influence of drugs. It is amazing how she herself managed not to fall from exhaustion and insomnia! So our newly-minted Marshal of France Charles d'Artagnan survived and was getting better every day, contrary to the prognosis of the surgeon, who said: "I have done everything in my power for this glorious hero, and now only God and the happy fate of this poor fellow can bring him back to life."
So, d'Artagnan, contrary to the expectations of the surgeon and his regimental comrades, not only survived, but also almost completely recovered from his wounds, but this happened much later, on the ship that was supposed to deliver his body to France, but delivered him alive.

I must say that Suzanne, with her selfless care for d'Artagnan, saved not only his life, but also the lives of those whom d'Artagnan himself, by a lucky chance, saved a little later, which he would not have been able to do, of course, if it had not been for her. This happened in the Spanish Netherlands. Much later. I will write about this later. I really want to run ahead and describe these events, but first I will finish the story of the false Marquise de Brinvilliers.

She did not stop her horrible experiments with poisons on living people, because she got bored of killing dumb animals. Her friend La Chaussee was subjected to torture in March 1673. I am not a supporter of such methods, because I believe that under torture a person can incriminate himself only in order to quickly end this torment, even at the cost of death. In addition, those who carry out interrogations using torture have other methods of manipulating the accused. They can deceive him, promising forgiveness in the event of a confession, they can blackmail him, intimidating him with even more excruciating torture or threatening to subject those he loves to similar abuse. It is also true that La Chaussee was not blackmailed or intimidated, since, as it turned out, he loved no one but himself. And yet he confessed to all the crimes. Two of my men were assigned to the investigation, who made sure that the defendant was not forced to confess to offenses to which he was not involved. Only those of his testimonies were taken into account that could be verified by other sources of information and proven. In the end, everything he had done was enough for several death sentences, but he got off with only one, since a person cannot be executed twice, no matter how guilty he is.
The Marquise herself left France for England and remained there until her extradition was agreed upon. Then she fled to the Netherlands. She remained in Liege until her extradition was again agreed upon. I helped to speed up the resolution of these matters by remaining in the shadows. Incidentally, my people also found out that the Marquise had had an affair with the Mayor of Liege during her stay there, but they had quarreled over some trifles, after which she harbored a grudge against him, but pretended to be reconciled in order to poison him. But this attempt failed by pure chance. Then I made a plan, which was carried out by my people. In accordance with this plan, Marie-Madeleine de Brinvilliers was lured by deception into a convent, where she was arrested by a Jesuit officer, a member of the Order, who was thought to be disguised as a priest, but in fact he had every right to wear the clothes of a priest, which he essentially was, being a member of the Order and carrying out my mission.
The trial of the Marquise took place in Paris and lasted from April 29 to July 16, 1676.
This time, only the King's men were involved in the investigation. I don't know why, but they were trying to get the names of some of her accomplices out of her. A dangerous undertaking! After all, under torture she could name people who were completely uninvolved in this! And that's what she did. Fortunately, there was one of my men among the King's men who informed me of the progress of the investigation. I ordered him to destroy the testimony in which the Marquise accused completely innocent people. It seemed that she had decided to drag as many people as possible to Hell with her, and the King's investigators were happy to try! Fools! Is it possible to find out the truth in this way?
My man changed the documents, so it was considered and is still considered that, despite the torture, the Marquise did not name a single accomplice. This is much better, because all her accomplices are known to me, and this is enough for them all to be punished.
The investigation, with the help of the evidence and proofs which my people had obtained and which had been added to the case, established that the Marquise was also guilty of poisoning her father and brother, of poisoning fifty people during her visits to the Hotel-Dieu, of attempting to poison a servant, of poisoning one of her children, of intending to poison her husband in order to marry Sainte-Croix, who did not want to marry her and gave the Marquis an antidote, and of attempting to poison her majordomo.
Under the pressure of the evidence I had obtained, the Marquise was also forced to confess to committing incest, to killing her father and brothers, and to attempting to kill her sister. This attempt failed, but her sister had already died a natural death. She also confessed to attempting to poison her husband, but said that she had changed her mind about killing him, so she gave him antidotes that saved him. She also confessed to adultery and to an uncontrollable lust that she even satisfied with self-gratification, confessed to carnal relations with a cousin, to taking drugs for the purpose of having an abortion, and to poisoning a maid. She gave the need for independence and money as her motives.
On July 17, 1676, the Marquise was brought to the gates of Notre Dame to repent and atone for her crimes, and then she was taken to the Place de Gr;ve. A priest rode next to her in a cart, and on the other side was the executioner. An incredible number of onlookers gathered to watch the execution, so terrible were her crimes that there were almost no people in Paris who were indifferent to her fate, everyone wanted justice.
The false marchioness was beheaded and her head and body were thrown into a fire. Her remains were then further chopped up and thrown into the Seine.
This time, there were no more descendants of Milady left on earth - they were all swallowed up by Hell.

Now I can return to the story of one of d'Artagnan's last exploits.

Chapter 427


In order to describe the feat of d'Artagnan, I must recall what was happening in the Spanish Netherlands at the very time when d'Artagnan, by the will of fate, found himself there, and not alone, but accompanied by the three of us, that is, me, Athos and Porthos, and also with us were Suzanne and Philippe. I will perhaps tell you separately about the reasons for our stay there.
Spanish Holland, or the Spanish Netherlands, is the southern part of Holland, which had been under Spanish rule for quite a long time, but this power gradually began to crack at the seams due to the enormous work done by Richelieu and continued by Mazarin. This work was aimed at dividing the strongest union of the Habsburgs, including the Holy Roman Empire (that is, the unification of the German states and Italy), Spain and Austria. In order for France to free itself from the ring of strong states claiming unconditional dominance in Europe, Richelieu went into close cooperation with the Protestant countries. The result was that he almost succeeded in implementing his plan, and Mazarin, in full accordance with the course outlined by Richelieu, brought this activity to such a state that Spain could no longer so firmly hold hegemony over the southern part of Holland. All that remained was to wrest this territory from Spanish rule, and then, if not to take possession of it, then at least to ensure that this state ceased to be, in fact, a Spanish colony.
Thus, the Spanish Netherlands became the arena of most of the European wars of the time, which was a tragic consequence of their geographical position and the historical dominance of Spain. Since the weakening Spain could no longer effectively defend its colonial possessions, this resulted in a series of territorial concessions to stronger neighbors.
From 1635 to 1659, the Franco-Spanish War had already taken place, some of the battles of which took place on the territory of the Spanish Netherlands, and according to the results of the Treaty of the Pyrenees, Spain ceded to France the County of Artois and a number of adjacent territories, part of Flanders with a number of fortresses, the cities of Landrecies and Le Quesnoy in Gennegau, Thionville, Montm;dy and other fortresses in the Duchy of Luxembourg, as well as the cities of Marienburg, Philippeville and Avesnes between the Sambre and Meuse rivers. But this was not the end of the matter.
In that part of Holland that remained under Spanish protectorate, anti-French passions flared up, and provocations were constantly carried out from this territory. Among such provocations was the support of attempts to separate from France with the help of local military groups by those local rulers who did not accept their new position as vassals of the French crown. One of such active and rebellious rulers was Charles of Lorraine.
Louis XIV in this case acted exactly on the advice of Richelieu, who left his political testament to his father, King Louis XIII, where, in particular, the great cardinal wrote:

"Nothing is so necessary in the government of a state as foresight, since by its help one can easily prevent those evils whose consequences cannot be removed except by great efforts. Just as a physician prefers to prevent diseases, knowing that this is easier than to cure them, so the ministers of state are obliged to provide information and remind their sovereign that it is much more important to foresee the future than to reason about the present, and that, as with diseases, so with the enemies of the state, it is more useful to foresee their intrigues and to meet them, preventing their execution, than to allow their attack, and then with great efforts to drive them out, getting rid of their invasion."

The great Richelieu said that one must sleep like a lion, without closing one's eyes, keeping them open in order to foresee any danger, since troubles that are hardly noticeable at first become the most important later. He also said: "Kings must be very careful in the treaties they make, but when they are already made, they must observe them religiously." He further wrote in his political testament:

"The sovereign must be strong by the strength of his borders. One must be deprived of reason not to know how important it is for great states to have well-fortified borders." "A border that is sufficiently fortified is capable of depriving enemies of the desire to undertake enterprises against the state, or at least of stopping their raids and efforts, if they are so bold as to come with open force. The strongest state in the world cannot boast of enjoying reliable peace if it is not able to defend itself at all times from sudden invasion and unexpected attack."

In particular, the Spanish-Dutch dominion at sea had become unbearable for France, which also wanted to develop its fleet to acquire new colonies. In this struggle for the colonies of the new land, Spain, Portugal, England, France and Holland desperately competed with each other.
Richelieu created the French navy from scratch. When he took office as first minister, France had no warships in the Atlantic or the English Channel, and only ten galleys in the Mediterranean. By 1635, the French navy included three squadrons in the Atlantic, one sailing squadron, and 20 galleys in the Mediterranean. Mazarin and Colbert continued to expand the fleet.
In his political testament, the cardinal wrote:

"The power of arms requires not only that the sovereign be strong on land, but also that he be populous at sea. The sea is the power of all inheritances, which all autocrats mostly strive for, and yet the rights to it are the least clear of all. In a word, the ancient rights of this dominion are strength, and not proof; one must be strong to enter into this inheritance."

For these purposes, he put into effect the Michaud Code, which we have already mentioned, according to which ordinary subjects "of any rank" received all the privileges of the nobility if they maintained a ship with a displacement of more than 200 tons for more than five years in a row. This contributed to the development of the French fleet. Spain in the south and Spanish Holland in the north of France sought to suppress France's maritime ambitions, which the King could no longer tolerate.
The War of Devolution (1667-1668), the Dutch War (1672-1678), the Franco-Spanish War (1683-1684) - these armed conflicts and the two following ones took place on the lands of the Spanish Netherlands. After each, the country lost part of its territory.
At that time, the French army showed itself to be extremely effective, which threatened Holland with complete defeat. In desperation, not counting on the force of arms, in the autumn of 1672, the population of Holland opened the floodgates, and water flooded the country. The advance of the French troops became impossible.
Prince William of Orange, Count John Maurice of Nassau, General Wurtz and Count Hoorn, however, occupied and blocked the roads to Amsterdam. But Holland also resisted desperately on the lands that remained unflooded. Having received reinforcements from Monterey, the Viceroy of the Spanish Netherlands, and having gathered 21,000 soldiers around him, William decided to go on the offensive. He penetrated as far as Maastricht, which was besieged by our troops, and took Fort Valkenburg. From there he moved on to Charleroi, besieged this city, but could not take it.
In the last days of December 1672, taking advantage of the cold weather, Marshal Luxembourg moved towards The Hague. The water that covered the entire country turned into such a thick crust of ice that not only could the troops move along narrow dams, but the cavalry was able to cross directly over the frozen lowlands.

Chapter 428

"Do you notice anything strange, my friends?" asked d'Artagnan, looking anxiously into the distance.
"You mean our cavalry march on the ice?" I inquired. "This maneuver will probably be unpleasant for the Dutch. They thought that the water released from the open dams would make the march impossible, but fortunately the cold froze the water, turning it into ice, so that the Dutch plans were thwarted.
"Ice is a slippery road for cavalry," Athos said doubtfully, looking at the tracks on the ice, covered with a light layer of frost. "The horses need excellent winter studs on their shoes. I'm not sure that's how it's done."
"Our valiant cavalry will show these Dutch what's what!" Porthos said enthusiastically.
"Look at the sky, gentlemen," continued d'Artagnan. "The clouds are torn into long stripes. The wind is changing. It was blowing from the continent, but soon the wind will change, the main mass of air will arrive here from the west, that is, from the sea.
“Are you sure?” I asked quickly and began to look at the clouds with concern.
“This is very bad news,” said Athos with annoyance.
“What the hell do we care about the direction of the wind?” Porthos asked in surprise.
"Let's go to the commander quickly!" I ordered. "We can't lose a minute."
- All together? - Athos was surprised. - And Philippe and Suzanne are with us?
“Only so!” cried d’Artagnan and spurred his horse.
We all galloped after him.

As soon as we approached the military camp, d'Artagnan recognized the tent in which the commander-in-chief was staying by the royal flag. As he rode closer, he was convinced that he was not mistaken, seeing that this tent was guarded by a special detachment.
"Where are you going?" asked d'Artagnan the major in charge of the guard at the marshal's tent.
“Marshal d’Artagnan wants to speak urgently with Marshal Luxembourg,” replied d’Artagnan.
- Marshal d'Artagnan? - the head of security asked with a laugh. - I don't know him. Gentlemen, such jokes are inappropriate here. Marshal d'Artagnan, as far as I know, died two years ago near Maastricht.
- The devil take it, I don't know you, but you must know me! - cried d'Artagnan. - Don't you recognize me?
“I was not acquainted with the Count, so even if you returned from the other world, I cannot recognize you, since I do not know you,” the major answered.
"Who is the Marshal's adjutant?" asked d'Artagnan. "He should know me, whoever he is!"
“The adjutant is currently carrying out the marshal’s orders, I will not tell you anything more, since I must not communicate information to anyone that is not subject to disclosure,” the major replied.
"Listen, Major, will this convince you?" asked d'Artagnan, taking a marshal's baton from the top of his boot and a patent of the Marshal of France from the inside pocket of his waistcoat.
I must say that he had this document and the marshal's baton because I had taken care that they were passed on to his heirs, so to speak. I had managed to convince Colbert that this was necessary in this case. D'Artagnan certainly had heirs! But I handed over the marshal's baton and the patent personally to d'Artagnan and wished that his heirs should receive these things as late as possible. I will return to the account of this important dialogue and the actions that followed it.
“Wait, I will report you to Marshal Luxembourg,” the major replied, after which he entered the tent.
Three minutes later he looked out of the tent and waved his hand, inviting d'Artagnan to come in.
"Marshal Luxembourg, we have little time, so I would like to get down to business at once!" cried d'Artagnan.
- Dear Count! - exclaimed Luxembourg. - I am glad that the rumors of your death turned out to be false! Tell me how it all happened? Where have you been, and why have you finally turned up?
"To hell with stories about the past, let's discuss the future!" d'Artagnan replied impatiently. "I beg you, call your cavalry back immediately!"
“Impossible, Count,” Luxembourg replied coldly. “The order to advance has been given on the basis of all strategic and tactical considerations, and it will be carried out in the most proper manner. Retreat is impossible.”
"My dear Fran;ois-Henri de Montmorency-Boutteville, Duke of Pinay-Luxembourg, I am not joking!" cried d'Artagnan. "The wind will change to the west in the very near future!"
“Well, the wind from the sea is no worse than the wind from the mainland,” Luxembourg calmly objected.
“These places are usually extremely warm for the latitude at which these lands are located,” d’Artagnan continued to insist. “Do you know why this happens?”
"My brave soldiers can fight in any cold," the marshal replied. "They are hardened, well dressed, they are not afraid of frost."
"It is not the frost that they should fear, but the thaw!" continued d'Artagnan. "The wind from the sea will bring warmth, the ice will melt, and the cavalry will drown."
“You exaggerate the danger, my friend,” the marshal objected in a soothing tone. “I personally checked the strength of the ice. I ordered a hole to be drilled. The ice in this place is at least three feet thick. That’s enough to support horsemen.”
“The air from the sea will easily melt this ice,” d’Artagnan stubbornly continued to argue.
“Listen, Count,” Luxembourg said softly. “I understand that you have been away for a long time, and that you are eager to lead a large army, so to speak, to confirm your high military career in practice. But you are too late, my dear. Everything has already been done before you and without your help. Soon we will occupy all of Spanish Holland, after which, of course, we will secure the new territories with an appropriate peace treaty. Your presence here is not necessary. Go, rest from the road, I will arrange for you and your companions to be provided with a comfortable tent. I invite you to a council of war tomorrow, there we will discuss all your concerns.”
“I just wanted to warn you that you could make a colossal mistake,” d’Artagnan persisted.
“You have succeeded, Count,” Luxembourg replied. “You have warned me. This means that you have successfully accomplished the task you set for yourself. I will make further decisions myself, and I promise that I will take your warnings into account.”
"Just one word, Duke," said d'Artagnan, with a faint hope of winning this strange dispute. "A warm current. The Gulf Stream. The sea air is extremely warm thanks to this current."
"You will tell the admiral that, my dear Count," the Marshal replied. "We are landlubbers, we do not study ocean currents. Thank you, Count, for your advice, and now, if you will excuse me, I am busy. See you tomorrow at the war council."
D'Artagnan left Luxembourg's tent in a rage.
“What are the results of the meeting?” asked Athos.
"Zero, damn it!" cried d'Artagnan.
"Then we shall have to do what we have done our utmost not to do, and what you, d'Artagnan, almost promised His Majesty not to do under any circumstances, such was the spirit of your letter," said Aramis, smiling. "We are simply obliged to use this last means to save the cavalry, are we not?"
D'Artagnan looked at Athos.
“There is no other way out,” Athos agreed.
"Come, monseigneur," said d'Artagnan, turning to Philippe. "You must compel Marshal Luxembourg to call back the cavalry, but I beg you, do not let the rumour of your presence here spread beyond the Duke's tent."

"Monsieur d'Artagnan, you must not go there," said the major, when d'Artagnan and Philippe, who was wearing his rag mask again, approached the Duke of Luxembourg's tent. "The Marshal has given orders that you are not to be allowed to see him today, as he has important business."
"I give you my word of honor that if the Marshal knew what news this gentleman whom I am accompanying brought him, he would immediately receive us both," said d'Artagnan. "If I am wrong, you may take my Marshal's baton and do with it as you please."
With these words, d'Artagnan placed his marshal's baton into the stunned major's hand and, taking advantage of his confusion, entered the tent, leading Philippe behind him.
“I told you that all conversations with you are over for today, Mr. Count!” the Duke said discontentedly.
"I suppose this doesn't apply to me?" Philip asked, removing his mask and stepping closer to the light.
- Your Majesty! You are here?! What joy! - exclaimed Luxembourg.
"Please be quiet, Duke," said Philip. "I am making a tour with a minimal escort incognito for reasons of the highest state importance. So please speak quietly. However, I will do the talking, and you listen and obey."
“Yes, Your Majesty, I am all ears!” Luxembourg replied.
"You are wrong, Duke, to disregard the advice of Marshal d'Artagnan," said Philippe. "While I retain and confirm all your powers to conduct military operations here in Holland, I nevertheless insist that you immediately carry out the proposal, no, the order of Marshal d'Artagnan, as if you had received it from me. You will immediately recall my cavalry, sending this order by such messengers as can fly faster than the wind on the fastest and lightest steeds. To write the corresponding order, I give you two minutes.
“Yes, Your Majesty!” the marshal replied.
"You've already wasted ten precious seconds on that answer. I said immediately!" Philip said in a tone that brooked no argument, then put on his mask and left the tent.
The marshal immediately wrote an order and handed it over to d'Artagnan.
- Very well! - cried d'Artagnan. - I will go with this order myself, and you will write two more copies and send two quick messengers after me in case anything happens to me.
After this, d'Artagnan quickly left the tent, leaving it he took his marshal's baton from the hands of the stunned major and dashingly jumped into the saddle.
"I'm going to bring back the cavalry!" he shouted to us, waving the order.
"We're all going!" exclaimed Porthos.
"No, Porthos," I said. "You are too heavy, and the ice will soon begin to thin. We must let him go alone."
D'Artagnan nodded to us, made a sign that he asked them to wait for him and to protect Philippe and Suzanne, and spurred his horse.
"I'm going with him!" cried Suzanne, and she galloped off after d'Artagnan.
“Wait, madam, where are you going?” I exclaimed.
" It's no use, my friend," Athos replied, taking my hand. "We won't be able to overcome the force that carried her away. And it's not necessary."

Chapter 429

D'Artagnan raced across the thin ice in the direction of the French cavalry tracks. He had reckoned that a line of cavalry would move much more slowly than a single horseman in a hurry. In addition, the cavalry was not moving in a normal marching formation, but in battle formation. The chances of returning the cavalry regiment before the ice gave out were good, considering that the regiment had only set out on the march that morning. In his haste to save his compatriots, the marshal had not even looked back once, so he did not know that Suzanne was galloping after him and was gradually falling behind him a little. He mistakenly believed that she had stayed with his friends and did not hear the clatter of hooves behind him, which was drowned out by the loud and heavy breathing of the horse and the beating of the rider's heart, which echoed in his ears with dull thuds.
After several hours of riding, d'Artagnan finally saw the rear ranks of the regiment ahead of him. Hoping to be heard, he fired a musket, but the wind carried the sounds away and none of the riders looked back. D'Artagnan decided to urge his horse from a trot to a gallop, despite the fact that the poor animal was already quite tired. Unexpectedly, d'Artagnan's horse broke the ice with its hind legs, after which both horse and rider plunged into the water. Fortunately, it was not too deep, so the horse, instinctively pushing off with its hind legs from the bottom, was able to emerge together with the rider into the resulting hole. The marshal's saddle was heavy, his boots were full of water, and his ammunition was soaked. D'Artagnan managed to snatch a dagger from his boot and thrust it halfway into the ice, which helped him not to go under the ice while the unfortunate animal was struggling in the water, trying to climb up the ice that had become fragile along the edges of the hole with its front legs. The marshal tried to grab the dagger's handle and get out onto the ice, but at that moment the blade of the dagger broke. Only a small piece of the blade was now sticking out of the handle, which d'Artagnan again thrust into the ice with force and tried to catch his breath and think about the situation.
"Charles, hold on!" cried Suzanne, who was two hundred meters away from him. "I'm coming to you!"
"Suzanne, be careful, don't go near the gully!" cried d'Artagnan. "Don't come closer than a dozen feet!"
"How can I save you?" Suzanne exclaimed.
"No need to save me, my dear," cried d'Artagnan. "Catch up with the cavalry and convey to them the order of their commander-in-chief."
"Where is this order?" asked Suzanne.
“I’ll throw it to you now,” replied d’Artagnan.
Taking hold of the dagger handle with his left hand, he took from the inside pocket of his waistcoat an order which, although damaged by the water, retained its inscription, signature and seal.
"Catch it, Suzanne!" cried d'Artagnan, and, putting the order into his leather glove, he placed it all on the ice and pushed it towards Suzanne.
“I can’t leave you without help, Charles!” Suzanne pleaded.
"My dear, you will be of great help to me if you will immediately deliver Marshal Luxembourg's order to the commander of the cavalry regiment!" cried d'Artagnan. "I beg you, my dear, do not waste time. The ice will soon become very thin!"
— With tears in her eyes, Suzanne jumped back on her horse and galloped off to catch up with the French cavalry.

D'Artagnan caught his breath and again tried to get out of the hole on his own. The ice where he had stuck the broken dagger was too thin, so after D'Artagnan had transferred all his weight to the edge of the ice, it broke off.
D'Artagnan, holding on to the ice, began to gradually move along the hole in the ice, looking for the edge where the ice was thicker. Soon it seemed to him that he had found the edge he was looking for and he again made an attempt to get out of the ice trap. This time he managed to pull himself up so that the ice did not break. Having climbed to the surface, d'Artagnan looked back at his faithful horse, who could not get out, since he could not climb onto the surface of the ice with his front legs. Risking falling into the hole again, d'Artagnan took the bridle in his hands and pulled the horse to the edge that seemed thicker to him than the others.
"Be patient, my friend," said d'Artagnan. "If Suzanne turns them around, help will soon come."

Soon Suzanne caught up with the cavalry regiment.
"Orders from the commander-in-chief!" she shouted, waving the order.
"Who are you, madam?" asked one of the cavalrymen in the back rows.
“I bring you an order from the commander-in-chief, Marshal Luxembourg, to return immediately, as the ice will soon melt!” Suzanne shouted back.
The cavalrymen quickly passed the message along the chain to the colonel, after which the regiment stopped.
“Where are the orders?” asked the colonel, who rode up to Suzanne.
"There he is, Colonel," answered Suzanne. "I'm sorry he's wet. Behind him, Marshal d'Artagnan of France has fallen through the ice on his horse. Please help him."
"Four cavalrymen to the aid of the marshal!" the colonel ordered, after which he read the order. "Madam, you brought this order very opportunely," he added after reading it. "We noticed that the ice was unreliable, but without the order we could not have turned back without permission. We hoped that we would have time to reach solid land before the ice thinned so much that we could not move further."
After this, the colonel gave the order to return quickly.
Suzanne immediately turned around and hurried off to save her dear Charles.
When she saw five horsemen riding towards her, among whom she recognized d'Artagnan, her heart began to beat joyfully.
"Charles, you've been saved!" she exclaimed joyfully.
"We only saved the marshal's horse," one of the cavalrymen replied. "There was no need to save the marshal, since he saved himself."
"Gentlemen, you have done a great deal for me!" replied d'Artagnan. "You have saved my horse, which is very dear to me, and also the sword which His Majesty personally gave me, which, fortunately, was fastened to the saddle.
"You are alive, my dear Charles, thank God, how happy I am!" Suzanne did not calm down, hugging and kissing d'Artagnan in front of everyone. "Gentlemen, I thank you for saving him!"
"It is we, madam, who must thank you for our salvation," replied the colonel. "If you had not brought this order, our fate would probably have been extremely deplorable."
"Charles, have you sunk your marshal's baton?" whispered Suzanne.
"Fortunately, no," replied d'Artagnan. "I dropped it at first, but it is made of wood, so it did not sink. I remembered it only after we had saved the horse with our joint efforts."
"You've always been like that, Charles!" cried Suzanne. "You love horses more than any inanimate object, even such as a marshal's baton!"
“My excuse is that I love you, Suzanne, more than horses,” d’Artagnan smiled.
"Really?" cried Suzanne, smiling. "Coming from anyone else it would sound rude, but knowing how much you adore horses, I know it's the best compliment. Surely you wouldn't say you love women more than horses?"
"Not for anything!" agreed d'Artagnan. "No woman, except you, Suzanne, can compete with my love for horses."
"I know that, Charles," said Suzanne. "That's why I take your words to mean that you love no woman in the world more than you love me. Am I right?"
“You are right as never before!” d’Artagnan answered seriously.
"Charles, I'm afraid that being in cold water won't do you any good," said Suzanne, worried. "How could you not get sick after this involuntary bath?"
"Don't worry, Suzanne," replied d'Artagnan. "I'm already warm. Besides, I have a miraculous balm in my bag under the saddle of my faithful horse, according to my good mother's recipe."
"Will you wipe yourself with it, Charles?" asked Suzanne.
"Not this time," replied d'Artagnan. "A more radical method of applying it is required."
Suzanne burst out laughing and playfully wagged her finger at her beloved Marshal of France.

Chapter 430

After the regiment arrived on solid ground, it was obvious to everyone how timely the order to return had been. Indeed, on the way back the ice broke several times under some of the horsemen, but since the cavalrymen were already prepared for such a turn of events, the unfortunate ones were quickly pulled out of the ice trap together with their horses by common efforts, using the bundles of bridles prepared for this occasion, which greatly helped the cavalrymen save the marshal's horse.
D'Artagnan was eager to approach Marshal Luxembourg and ask, "Which of us was right, Duke?" but he restrained himself. The joy of saving the cavalry regiment drowned out his pride, wounded in the previous conversation, since his Gascon pride was completely satisfied by the knowledge that the Duke himself understood that he was wrong.
In the tent provided for all of us, d'Artagnan changed his clothes, putting on what the major had brought him, with whom he had previously had difficult conversations in front of the marshal's tent.
"Marshal Luxembourg ordered me to give you these clothes, this bottle of cognac, and also asked me to convey his apologies for not listening to your advice," said the major. "He would have come to you personally, but at the moment he is busy with an urgent military council."
“Tell the Marshal that I am grateful to him for everything and that his apologies are accepted,” replied d’Artagnan.
"D'Artagnan," said Athos, after the Gascon had completely changed his clothes and warmed himself up. "You said a while ago that you intended to stop the war? Will you tell us how you intend to do it?"
“We have done what we could, friends,” said d’Artagnan. “We have saved a cavalry regiment. This is no small thing, not only for Athos, but also for the Marquis de La F;re! And let those who started the war end it. For our part, we have created the conditions for peace negotiations. After all, if our cavalry had drowned, there would have been no talk of any negotiations. But I have realized that the life of every French soldier is more important to me than all of this politics put together. If, Athos, I could stop the war, I would do it, believe me!”
“If you allow me, friends, I will try to do something about this, using my connections,” I said. “But for this I will have to leave you for a while.”
"Go, Aramis, with God!" said Athos. "May heaven aid you in your efforts!"
- Heaven helps those who have enough helpers on earth, - I answered. - Fortunately, I have a number of people on whose help I can fully count. Although the first of them will always remain you, friends! But these are matters of a completely different kind, here the main weapons will not be swords, muskets and pistols, but feathers, paper and gold. Lots of gold. And, of course, faith in the Lord!
“What about Philippe?” asked Porthos.
“Philippe will return to Monaco, where a lady who recently returned there is waiting for him,” answered Athos.
“And then?” asked Aramis.
- My friends! - Philip exclaimed. - I would like to take advantage of your wonderful experience and stage my death in the eyes of all those who follow my fate against my will. This is an excellent way to hide from all ill-wishers and then lead a calm and happy life as a simple private person.
“But you seem to have already sorted out your feelings, and, if I am not mistaken, you connect your happiness only with the possibility of being in the company of the Princess of Monaco?” asked d’Artagnan.
- That's right, Count, - answered Philip. - Don't call her that! But you're right! My idea was to her taste too. She also intends to fake her death, after which we want to retire to a place that will be known to no one except you, our best friends.
“Listen to my advice, monseigneur,” said Athos. “After everyone believes in your death, go as far away as you can, and do not disclose your whereabouts to your enemies, nor to us, your friends. Do not speak of it to anyone. We do not wish to know it. Only in this way can we be at peace about your future life and your mutual happiness.”
“I agree with Athos,” said d’Artagnan.
“I also agree, it’s reasonable,” I agreed, but then I thought that it would be unwise even for me not to know Philip’s whereabouts in the future, because life sometimes throws up the most intricate surprises.
- Well, if all my friends say that it will be better this way, I also join their opinion! - exclaimed Porthos. - But only on condition that before parting we drink a bottle of good wine as a farewell!
“Since you all advise the same thing, I will do as you say,” said Philip.
Of course, I understood that Philippe couldn't disappear without even me knowing where he would be. But was it worth telling him and my friends about it?

That same evening I approached one of Marshal Luxembourg's officers, a member of the Order and my loyal man.
"Camille," I said. "See that these letters are delivered to the addresses indicated. And one more thing. Did you see the man who arrived with us, wearing a mask made of metallic-colored fabric?"
“Yes, Monsignor,” Camille replied.
“I must always know where this man is and what he is doing,” I said. “Information about him must be collected by people whose existence he must not suspect. These must be members of the Order from among the initiates of the first level, the total number of these people must not exceed five. They can alternate, depending on what will be more convenient for the best execution of this assignment. I must also know everything about the lady who will share life with this man.
“Everything will be done, Monsignor,” Camille replied.

A month later, the King's secretary said that a parcel had arrived from Holland addressed to the King, containing four swords with diamond-studded hilts.

- So, they have fulfilled all their obligations to me and all four of them ask for their resignation! - Louis said quietly to himself. - Well, I accept their resignation. Today I have received proof that the monarchy is no longer threatened by the danger that they came to France to eliminate. And today I have lost four of my best servants. I will have to make peace with Spanish Holland.

Chapter 431

Less than a year later, I received a letter with the following content.

"Monsignor!
Madame gave birth to a daughter, who was named Amelia.
The prince pretends that he considers this daughter his own."

A few months later I received the following letter.

"Monsignor,
Amelia died of an illness, apparently related to a lung disease. The intervention of outside forces, perhaps on the instructions of the prince, cannot be ruled out."

Some time after these events, another letter contained the following text.

"Monsignor,
The prince mourns the death of his wife Charlotte. The funeral was modest. Apparently, even the prince himself does not know that in the coffin lies a masterfully executed wax model, which is indistinguishable from the princess even upon the most careful examination. Probably, a servant named Josepha helped in this matter. The coffin was lowered into the family crypt of the princes of Monaco. Charlotte disappeared with the very man whose movements we are tracking at your request. Their location is as follows."

Then came the symbols, the meaning of which could only be understood by two people in the Jesuit Order: myself and Giovanni Paolo Oliva, known as the General of the Jesuit Order, who carried out these functions officially, while I retained the actual management of the Order.

All letters addressed to me were signed: "To Monsignor Antonio Pignatelli."
Why I was called by this mysterious name "Antonio Pignatelli", I think it is not difficult to guess. In the following years I lived most often under this name, many people could swear on the Bible that this was my birth name, and some of them would add that they have known me almost since my birth. How this was organized, I will not tell.
I've already revealed too many secrets here.
It gives me great pleasure to write that d'Artagnan did not fall ill or die after bathing in the icy waters of Holland. Returning to Scotland, d'Artagnan learned that my dear Bazin had recovered from the wounds he had received in an extraordinary event, and although he had become very weak in health, he remained in good spirits. He was also surprised to find that his house in the village of Monkville, which had previously suffered greatly from a fire, had been rebuilt and had even become even better, more spacious and luxurious. The source of the money for this enterprise, as well as the customer of the work, remained unknown to d'Artagnan for a long time, since he believed that this generous patron was Porthos. However, our baron admitted that, although he really had such plans, he could not and would not have had time to organize everything so beautifully, since he took part in the campaigns with Athos, with me and with d'Artagnan. Then d'Artagnan asked Athos if he had anything to do with Monqueville's restoration, to which Athos replied:
— I had a commission from a dying man, which I was going to carry out if my health and the years of life allotted to me allowed me. In the event of its fulfillment, one of the points of this commission was to pay for the expenses of restoring Monkville. But I cannot yet boast of completing this commission, so the source of this money is unknown to me. Perhaps Aramis did it?
"If not Porthos and not you, Athos, then, of course, Aramis," agreed d'Artagnan. "But I have not heard from him for a long time."
"Have you asked Bazin about this?" asked Athos.
“Bazin claims that he has no connection with Aramis,” replied d’Artagnan.
They were close to the truth. I ordered the work to be carried out and allocated the money for it, although another person was working on the drawings. I had neither the time nor the desire to visit England, especially at a time when d'Artagnan's house had not been restored.
Thus, in the newly rebuilt Monkville, d'Artagnan with Suzanne Campredon and Porthos with Agnes Campbell, as well as Bazin and Grimaud, settled comfortably.
Agnes Campbell was one lady whom Porthos met in England. I need hardly go into the subject, except to say that she was greatly impressed by his great stature and strength, and he found her kind enough, quite beautiful, and also of a very easy disposition, so that the two soon came to an understanding, and our Baron, being a widower for a long time, married her according to all the rules. Well, I will only say that, apparently, the fate of a widower weighed on him somewhat more than he tried to show on any occasion. Complete freedom in everything is fine, but even this gets boring after a while, if you have lived for some time under the thumb of an imperious lady, as was the widow Coquenard, the Baron's first wife.
As for Athos, he had gone on some business, which he told d'Artagnan was the same promise he had made to a certain dying man, and as soon as it was fulfilled he would be happy to return to Monqueville.
"Tell me, Athos," asked d'Artagnan, "have you ever thought of uniting your destiny with some woman?"
- God bless you, d'Artagnan! - Athos laughed. - There is no woman in the world with whom I would want to connect my life, even though I cannot guarantee that I will live even another year or two! I do not want to overshadow even such a small thing with the responsibility for the fate of a woman and the difficulties that are associated with living together with the daughter of Eve.
"And what do you think of the Duchess de Chevreuse?" asked d'Artagnan. "It seemed to me that you liked her, and that something elusive arose between you."
"The Duchess de Chevreuse?" asked Athos. "For Athos it is too much, and for the Marquis de la F;re it is too little."
Athos was strict with himself. He lived not a year or two after that, as he said, but five years, during a flood when the river along which he was riding was particularly turbulent. He died saving from the raging river a little peasant girl who had come too close to the steep bank to admire the rapids of the water. Without losing a second, he jumped out of the saddle and threw herself into the water, swam to her and pushed her out on the bank, but at that very moment an enormous trunk of a tree uprooted by the water floated past. A thick branch caught him in his clothes, after which the tree turned over under the force of the waves, or perhaps this happened because some roots caught in the bottom of the river. The peasants who witnessed this incident did not dare to risk their lives to save a nobleman, and since Athos was not accompanied by any of his men, he was not saved.
All this happened in England, which makes me treat this country with contempt. Just think how much Athos did for England in his time! And here is such black ingratitude, which can only be explained by the fact that the peasants did not know what kind of man was dying before their eyes!
Needless to say, this first real death of one of us four was a crushing blow. After that I never saw d'Artagnan laugh, nor Porthos smile as broadly as only he could. And I myself feel as if I had lost a part of myself.

Chapter 432

The greatest misfortune befell me as a result of the battle of Tobago. The restless d'Artagnan and Porthos volunteered to participate in this sea expedition of the exedra, consisting of seven warships and three ships with provisions and additional supplies of gunpowder and cannonballs.
I still can't forgive myself for not stopping them from doing this. I learned about it too late. The Musketeers, whose lot had always been horse riding and fighting on land, suddenly decided to test themselves at sea. I remember that once in our conversation d'Artagnan said that the ocean is a place where you are free even if there is not much freedom in your country. I objected to him that Seneca had said that there are two kinds of people who should not be considered alive - people who have died, and people who have gone on a sea voyage. To this d'Artagnan laughingly objected that since his grave already existed in Maastricht, it would be better for him to die in a sea battle, so as not to perplex descendants with the existence of two graves of the same person. Porthos agreed with this opinion, recalling that his grave, by common consent, was in the collapsed cave of Locmaria on the island of Belle-Ile. I did not argue with them and soon forgot this conversation. When I learned of their plan, I thought that both of them, feeling the inexorable approach of old age, decided to end their lives with weapons in their hands, to give their lives to the cause to which they had dedicated their entire lives - the defense of the Motherland.
I also suspect that d'Artagnan wanted to die defending the interests of King Louis XIV. By doing so, he wanted to close the King's account with him on earth, so that no accounts would follow him into the other world. I believe that he also carried away Porthos with this idea.
Alas for me, I am not consoled by the descriptions of what a wonderful gunner Porthos was in tandem with d'Artagnan. D'Artagnan would tell Porthos the target, and Porthos would aim the cannon at d'Artagnan's direction, and just below the waterline, until that part of the ship would rise above the waves due to the rolling of the ship. Thus, the first hole the ship received from Porthos's shot would cause the ship to rapidly fill with water, and as a result, it would fall into the water so that its crew could no longer fire its cannon. The campaign of our squadron was successful, but the enemy, noticing the effectiveness of my friends' shooting, loaded all their cannons with grapeshot and aimed them at their main enemies. I console myself only with the thought that my friends died instantly, and they did not have time to feel pain. God, I hope, spared them from suffering.
For two weeks I prayed for the salvation of their souls, stopping only for a short sleep and an even shorter meal, only for the Lord to give me the strength to bring these prayers to Him. I gave up all other work for this. If the Lord heard me, my friends in Heaven. However, who else should he listen to if not the pontiff?
With the death of all my friends, everything in my life that could have been of any interest to me disappeared. I continued to do my duty in accordance with my high position, feeling myself not a man, but some kind of mechanical device, acting like an hourglass. The night turned me over, and from the morning of the new day, time flowed for me as evenly and boringly as the sand pours out of an hourglass.

I only note for myself what shocked me.

Cruelty is a consequence of cowardice. But excessive cruelty can cause the crowd to feel compassion for the criminal, and even make him a hero-martyr in their eyes. Therefore, any justice must have obvious signs of mercy.
 
1677

Naval battle with the Dutch and the Battle of Tobago. Porthos and d'Artagnan.

1679

Death of Cardinal de Retz. Poor Paul de Gondi! Thank God I did not kill you in a duel!

1680

The Death of La Rochefoucauld. I will miss you! We were never friends or enemies, but we always loved the same women!

Chapter 433

A document found in a manuscript.

I, Gianfrancesco Albani, by right of succession to the Holy See of the Pope, having taken the name of Clement XI, have discovered in the papers of my predecessor, Innocent XII, in the world Antonio Pignatelli del Rastrello, who left this mortal world on September 27, 1700, several folders containing papers written in the hand of the pontiff Innocent XII.
The text of these papers is written in different languages, which change randomly during the course of the narrative. These are French, Spanish, Italian, in places English, Greek and Dutch, but mostly Latin and a mixture of all these languages, which makes translation extremely difficult.
I was afraid to invite translators who knew all these languages, since this text, apparently, is not subject to disclosure. At first I thought that it was something like the memoirs of the pontiff. However, what I was able to understand is so incredible that I believe that it is the fruit of fantasy, some literary activity of the pontiff.
I will say that it is not in his nature to write fiction, to invent adventurous adventures, to engage in empty literature, but I cannot imagine any other explanation.
Some sheets were written in some language unknown to me. I wrote down a few letters, or perhaps hieroglyphs. Perhaps I can find a person who knows this language. But it is not Chinese, Japanese, Korean, Vietnamese, or Indian. I also decided to save these sheets.
Some of the sheets are encrypted in such a complex script that it is impossible to read them even if they were read by an expert in all the languages listed. Having decided that these sheets should not be read, according to the desire of the pontiff, for otherwise why would he have encrypted them, I have consigned all the encrypted sheets to the fire. For if they contain something that should not be known to mortals, then so be it, but for the Lord there are no secrets, for he reads the hearts and minds of his servants.
I ordered the remaining sheets to be sealed and kept in a separate box, into which I also put this sheet, in which I sign
Pope Clement Clement XI, December twenty-second, year 1700.