“He certainly did leave me a few commissions to settle.”
“And what for me?”
“I have told you—a sum of twelve thousand livres was to be paid to you. I thought I had given you the necessary signature to enable you to receive it. Did you not get the money?”
“Oh! yes, yes. You give your orders, I am informed, with so much mystery, and such a majestic presence, that it is generally believed you are the successor of the defunct chief.”
Aramis colored impatiently, and the duchesse continued: “I have obtained my information,” she said, “from the king of Spain himself; and he cleared up some of my doubts on the point. Every general of the Jesuits is nominated by him, and must be a Spaniard, according to the statutes of the order. You are not a Spaniard, nor have you been nominated by the king of Spain.”
Aramis did not reply to this remark, except to say, “You see, duchesse, how greatly you were mistaken, since the king of Spain told you that.”
“Yes, my dear Aramis; but there was something else which I have been thinking of.”
“What is that?”
“You know, I believe, something about most things, and it occurred to me that you know the Spanish language.”
“Every Frenchman who has been actively engaged in the Fronde knows Spanish.”
“You have lived in Flanders?”
“Three years.”
“And have stayed at Madrid?”
“Fifteen months.”
“You are in a position, then, to become a naturalized Spaniard, when you like.”
“Really?” said Aramis, with a frankness which deceived the duchesse.
“Undoubtedly. Two years’ residence and an acquaintance with the language are indispensable. You have upwards of four years—more than double the time necessary.”
“What are you driving at, duchesse?”
“At this—I am on good terms with the king of Spain.”
And I am not on bad terms
, thought Aramis to himself.
“Shall I ask the king,” continued the duchesse, “to confer the succession to the Franciscan’s post upon you?”
“Oh, duchesse!”
“You have it already, perhaps?” she said.
“No, upon my honor.”
“Very well, then, I can render you that service.”
“Why did you not render the same service to M. de Laicques, duchesse? He is a very talented man, and one you love, besides.”
“Yes, no doubt; but, at all events, putting Laicques aside, will you have it?”
“No, I thank you, duchesse.”
She paused. He is nominated
, she thought; and then resumed aloud, “If you refuse me in this manner, it is not very encouraging for me, supposing I should have something to ask of you.”
“Oh! ask, pray ask.”
“Ask! I cannot do so, if you have not the power to grant what I want.”
“However limited my power and ability, ask all the same.”
“I need a sum of money, to restore Dampierre.”
“Ah!” replied Aramis, coldly—“money? Well, duchesse, how much would you require?”
“Oh! a tolerably round sum.”
“So much the worse—you know I am not rich.”
“No, no; but the order is—and if you had been the general—”
“You know I am not the general, I think.”
“In that case, you have a friend who must be very wealthy—M. Fouquet.”
“M. Fouquet! He is more than half ruined, Madame.”
“So it is said, but I did not believe it.”
“Why, duchesse?”
“Because I have, or rather Laicques has, certain letters in his possession from Cardinal Mazarin, which establish the existence of very strange accounts.”
“What accounts?”
“Relative to various sums of money borrowed and disposed of. I cannot very distinctly remember what they are; but they establish the fact that the superintendent, according to these letters, which are signed by Mazarin, had taken thirteen millions of francs from the coffers of the state. The case is a very serious one.”
Aramis clenched his hands in anxiety and apprehension. “Is it possible,” he said, “that you have such letters as you speak of, and have not communicated them to M. Fouquet?”
“Ah!” replied the duchesse, “I keep such trifling matters as these in reserve. The day may come when they will be of service; and they can be withdrawn from the safe custody in which they now remain.”
“And that day has arrived?” said Aramis.
“Yes.”
“And you are going to show those letters to M. Fouquet?”
“I prefer to talk about them with you, instead.”
“You must be in sad want of money, my poor friend, to think of such things as these—you, too, who held M. de Mazarin’s prose effusions in such indifferent esteem.”
“The fact is, I am in want of money.”
“And then,” continued Aramis, in cold accents, “it must have been very distressing to you to be obliged to have recourse to such a means. It is cruel.”
“Oh! if had wished to do harm instead of good,” said Madame de Chevreuse, “instead of asking the general of the order, or M. Fouquet, for the five hundred thousand francs I require, I—”
“Five hundred thousand francs!”
“Yes; no more. Do you think it much? I require at least as much as that to restore Dampierre.”
“Yes, Madame.”
“I say, therefore, that instead of asking for this amount, I should have gone to see my old friend the queen-mother; the letters from her husband, Signor Mazarini, would have served me as an introduction, and I should have begged this mere trifle of her, saying to her, ‘I wish, Madame, to have the honor of receiving you at Dampierre. Permit me to put Dampierre in a fit state for that purpose.’ ”
Aramis did not return a single word. “Well,” she said, “what are you thinking about?”
“I am making certain additions,” said Aramis.
“And M. Fouquet subtractions. I, on the other hand, am trying my hand at the art of multiplication. What excellent calculators we all three are! How well we might understand one another!”
“Will you allow me to reflect?” said Aramis.
“No, for with such an opening between people like ourselves, ‘yes’ or ‘no’ is the only answer, and that an immediate one.”
It is a snare
, thought the bishop; it is impossible that Anne of Austria would listen to such a woman as this.
“Well?” said the duchesse.
“Well, Madame, I should be very much astonished if M. Fouquet had five hundred thousand francs at his disposal at the present moment.”
“It is no use speaking of it, then,” said
