“And fire at once if he speaks!” added aloud the man who alighted from the carriage.
“Very good,” replied his companion, without another remark.
With this recommendation, the person who had accompanied the king in the carriage ascended the flight of steps, at the top of which the governor was awaiting him. “Monsieur d’Herblay!” said the latter.
“Hush!” said Aramis. “Let us go into your room.”
“Good heavens! what brings you here at this hour?”
“A mistake, my dear Monsieur de Baisemeaux,” Aramis replied, quietly. “It appears that you were quite right the other day.”
“What about?” inquired the governor.
“About the order of release, my dear friend.”
“Tell me what you mean, Monsieur—no, Monseigneur,” said the governor, almost suffocated by surprise and terror.
“It is a very simple affair: you remember, dear M. de Baisemeaux, that an order of release was sent to you.”
“Yes, for Marchiali.”
“Very good! we both thought that it was for Marchiali?”
“Certainly; you will recollect, however, that I would not credit it, but that you compelled me to believe it.”
“Oh! Baisemeaux, my good fellow, what a word to make use of!—strongly recommended, that was all.”
“Strongly recommended, yes; strongly recommended to give him up to you; and that you carried him off with you in your carriage.”
“Well, my dear Monsieur de Baisemeaux, it was a mistake; it was discovered at the ministry, so that I now bring you an order from the king to set at liberty—Seldon, that poor Scotch fellow, you know.”
“Seldon! are you sure this time?”
“Well, read it yourself,” added Aramis, handing him the order.
“Why,” said Baisemeaux, “this order is the very same that has already passed through my hands.”
“Indeed?”
“It is the very one I assured you I saw the other evening. Parbleu! I recognize it by the blot of ink.”
“I do not know whether it is that; but all I know is, that I bring it for you.”
“But then, what about the other?”
“What other?”
“Marchiali.”
“I have got him here with me.”
“But that is not enough for me. I require a new order to take him back again.”
“Don’t talk such nonsense, my dear Baisemeaux; you talk like a child! Where is the order you received respecting Marchiali?”
Baisemeaux ran to his iron chest and took it out. Aramis seized hold of it, coolly tore it in four pieces, held them to the lamp, and burnt them. “Good heavens! what are you doing?” exclaimed Baisemeaux, in an extremity of terror.
“Look at your position quietly, my good governor,” said Aramis, with imperturbable self-possession, “and you will see how very simple the whole affair is. You no longer possess any order justifying Marchiali’s release.”
“I am a lost man!”
“Far from it, my good fellow, since I have brought Marchiali back to you, and all accordingly is just the same as if he had never left.”
“Ah!” said the governor, completely overcome by terror.
“Plain enough, you see; and you will go and shut him up immediately.”
“I should think so, indeed.”
“And you will hand over this Seldon to me, whose liberation is authorized by this order. Do you understand?”
“I—I—”
“You do understand, I see,” said Aramis. “Very good.” Baisemeaux clapped his hands together.
“But why, at all events, after having taken Marchiali away from me, do you bring him back again?” cried the unhappy governor, in a paroxysm of terror, and completely dumbfounded.
“For a friend such as you are,” said Aramis—“for so devoted a servant, I have no secrets”; and he put his mouth close to Baisemeaux’s ear, as he said, in a low tone of voice, “you know the resemblance between that unfortunate fellow, and—”
“And the king?—yes!”
“Very good; the first use that Marchiali made of his liberty was to persist—Can you guess what?”
“How is it likely I should guess?”
“To persist in saying that he was king of France; to dress himself up in clothes like those of the king; and then pretend to assume that he was the king himself.”
“Gracious heavens!”
“That is the reason why I have brought him back again, my dear friend. He is mad and lets everyone see how mad he is.”
“What is to be done, then?”
“That is very simple; let no one hold any communication with him. You understand that when his peculiar style of madness came to the king’s ears, the king, who had pitied his terrible affliction, and saw that all his kindness had been repaid by black ingratitude, became perfectly furious; so that, now—and remember this very distinctly, dear Monsieur de Baisemeaux, for it concerns you most closely—so that there is now, I repeat, sentence of death pronounced against all those who may allow him to communicate with anyone else but me or the king himself. You understand, Baisemeaux, sentence of death!”
“You need not ask me whether I understand.”
“And now, let us go down, and conduct this poor devil back to his dungeon again, unless you prefer he should come up here.”
“What would be the good of that?”
“It would be better, perhaps, to enter his name in the prison-book at once!”
“Of course, certainly; not a doubt of it.”
“In that case, have him up.”
Baisemeaux ordered the drums to be beaten and the bell to be rung, as a warning to everyone to retire, in order to avoid meeting a prisoner, about whom it was desired to observe a certain mystery. Then, when the passages were free, he went to take the prisoner from the carriage, at whose breast Porthos, faithful to the directions which had been given him, still kept his musket leveled. “Ah! is that you, miserable wretch?” cried the governor, as soon as he perceived the king. “Very good, very good.” And immediately, making the king get out of the carriage, he led him, still accompanied by Porthos, who had not taken off his mask, and Aramis, who again resumed his, up the stairs, to the second Bertaudière, and opened
