The Man in the Iron Mask. Dumas Alexandre

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СКАЧАТЬ means of a coin dated 1610, which bears the effigy of Henry IV.; and another of 1612, bearing that of Louis XIII. So I presumed that, there being only two years between the two dates, Louis was Henry’s successor.”

      “Then,” said Aramis, “you know that the last reigning monarch was Louis XIII.?”

      “I do,” answered the youth, slightly reddening.

      “Well, he was a prince full of noble ideas and great projects, always, alas! deferred by the trouble of the times and the dread struggle that his minister Richelieu had to maintain against the great nobles of France. The king himself was of a feeble character, and died young and unhappy.”

      “I know it.”

      “He had been long anxious about having a heir; a care which weighs heavily on princes, who desire to leave behind them more than one pledge that their best thoughts and works will be continued.”

      “Did the king, then, die childless?” asked the prisoner, smiling.

      “No, but he was long without one, and for a long while thought he should be the last of his race. This idea had reduced him to the depths of despair, when suddenly, his wife, Anne of Austria – ”

      The prisoner trembled.

      “Did you know,” said Aramis, “that Louis XIII.‘s wife was called Anne of Austria?”

      “Continue,” said the young man, without replying to the question.

      “When suddenly,” resumed Aramis, “the queen announced an interesting event. There was great joy at the intelligence, and all prayed for her happy delivery. On the 5th of September, 1638, she gave birth to a son.”

      Here Aramis looked at his companion, and thought he observed him turning pale. “You are about to hear,” said Aramis, “an account which few indeed could now avouch; for it refers to a secret which they imagined buried with the dead, entombed in the abyss of the confessional.”

      “And you will tell me this secret?” broke in the youth.

      “Oh!” said Aramis, with unmistakable emphasis, “I do not know that I ought to risk this secret by intrusting it to one who has no desire to quit the Bastile.”

      “I hear you, monsieur.”

      “The queen, then, gave birth to a son. But while the court was rejoicing over the event, when the king had shown the new-born child to the nobility and people, and was sitting gayly down to table, to celebrate the event, the queen, who was alone in her room, was again taken ill and gave birth to a second son.”

      “Oh!” said the prisoner, betraying a better acquaintance with affairs than he had owned to, “I thought that Monsieur was only born in – ”

      Aramis raised his finger; “Permit me to continue,” he said.

      The prisoner sighed impatiently, and paused.

      “Yes,” said Aramis, “the queen had a second son, whom Dame Perronnette, the midwife, received in her arms.”

      “Dame Perronnette!” murmured the young man.

      “They ran at once to the banqueting-room, and whispered to the king what had happened; he rose and quitted the table. But this time it was no longer happiness that his face expressed, but something akin to terror. The birth of twins changed into bitterness the joy to which that of an only son had given rise, seeing that in France (a fact you are assuredly ignorant of) it is the oldest of the king’s sons who succeeds his father.”

      “I know it.”

      “And that the doctors and jurists assert that there is ground for doubting whether the son that first makes his appearance is the elder by the law of heaven and of nature.”

      The prisoner uttered a smothered cry, and became whiter than the coverlet under which he hid himself.

      “Now you understand,” pursued Aramis, “that the king, who with so much pleasure saw himself repeated in one, was in despair about two; fearing that the second might dispute the first’s claim to seniority, which had been recognized only two hours before; and so this second son, relying on party interests and caprices, might one day sow discord and engender civil war throughout the kingdom; by these means destroying the very dynasty he should have strengthened.”

      “Oh, I understand! – I understand!” murmured the young man.

      “Well,” continued Aramis; “this is what they relate, what they declare; this is why one of the queen’s two sons, shamefully parted from his brother, shamefully sequestered, is buried in profound obscurity; this is why that second son has disappeared, and so completely, that not a soul in France, save his mother, is aware of his existence.”

      “Yes! his mother, who has cast him off,” cried the prisoner in a tone of despair.

      “Except, also,” Aramis went on, “the lady in the black dress; and, finally, excepting – ”

      “Excepting yourself – is it not? You who come and relate all this; you, who rouse in my soul curiosity, hatred, ambition, and, perhaps, even the thirst of vengeance; except you, monsieur, who, if you are the man to whom I expect, whom the note I have received applies to, whom, in short, Heaven ought to send me, must possess about you – ”

      “What?” asked Aramis.

      “A portrait of the king, Louis XIV., who at this moment reigns upon the throne of France.”

      “Here is the portrait,” replied the bishop, handing the prisoner a miniature in enamel, on which Louis was depicted life-like, with a handsome, lofty mien. The prisoner eagerly seized the portrait, and gazed at it with devouring eyes.

      “And now, monseigneur,” said Aramis, “here is a mirror.” Aramis left the prisoner time to recover his ideas.

      “So high! – so high!” murmured the young man, eagerly comparing the likeness of Louis with his own countenance reflected in the glass.

      “What do you think of it?” at length said Aramis.

      “I think that I am lost,” replied the captive; “the king will never set me free.”

      “And I – I demand to know,” added the bishop, fixing his piercing eyes significantly upon the prisoner, “I demand to know which of these two is king; the one this miniature portrays, or whom the glass reflects?”

      “The king, monsieur,” sadly replied the young man, “is he who is on the throne, who is not in prison; and who, on the other hand, can cause others to be entombed there. Royalty means power; and you behold how powerless I am.”

      “Monseigneur,” answered Aramis, with a respect he had not yet manifested, “the king, mark me, will, if you desire it, be the one that, quitting his dungeon, shall maintain himself upon the throne, on which his friends will place him.”

      “Tempt me not, monsieur,” broke in the prisoner bitterly.

      “Be not weak, monseigneur,” persisted Aramis; “I have brought you all the proofs of your birth; consult them; satisfy yourself that you are a king’s son; it is for us to act.”

      “No, no; it is impossible.”

      “Unless, СКАЧАТЬ