<p><SPAN name="link2HCH0009" id="link2HCH0009"></SPAN></p>
<h2> Chapter IX. The Tempter. </h2>
<p>"My prince," said Aramis, turning in the carriage towards his companion,
"weak creature as I am, so unpretending in genius, so low in the scale of
intelligent beings, it has never yet happened to me to converse with a man
without penetrating his thoughts through that living mask which has been
thrown over our mind, in order to retain its expression. But to-night, in
this darkness, in the reserve which you maintain, I can read nothing on
your features, and something tells me that I shall have great difficulty
in wresting from you a sincere declaration. I beseech you, then, not for
love of me, for subjects should never weigh as anything in the balance
which princes hold, but for love of yourself, to retain every syllable,
every inflexion which, under the present most grave circumstances, will
all have a sense and value as important as any every uttered in the
world."</p>
<p>"I listen," replied the young prince, "decidedly, without either eagerly
seeking or fearing anything you are about to say to me." And he buried
himself still deeper in the thick cushions of the carriage, trying to
deprive his companion not only of the sight of him, but even of the very
idea of his presence.</p>
<p>Black was the darkness which fell wide and dense from the summits of the
intertwining trees. The carriage, covered in by this prodigious roof,
would not have received a particle of light, not even if a ray could have
struggled through the wreaths of mist that were already rising in the
avenue.</p>
<p>"Monseigneur," resumed Aramis, "you know the history of the government
which to-day controls France. The king issued from an infancy imprisoned
like yours, obscure as yours, and confined as yours; only, instead of
ending, like yourself, this slavery in a prison, this obscurity in
solitude, these straightened circumstances in concealment, he was fain to
bear all these miseries, humiliations, and distresses, in full daylight,
under the pitiless sun of royalty; on an elevation flooded with light,
where every stain appears a blemish, every glory a stain. The king has
suffered; it rankles in his mind; and he will avenge himself. He will be a
bad king. I say not that he will pour out his people's blood, like Louis
XI., or Charles IX.; for he has no mortal injuries to avenge; but he will
devour the means and substance of his people; for he has himself undergone
wrongs in his own interest and money. In the first place, then, I acquit
my conscience, when I consider openly the merits and the faults of this
great prince; and if I condemn him, my conscience absolves me."</p>
<p>Aramis paused. It was not to listen if the silence of the forest remained
undisturbed, but it was to gather up his thoughts from the very bottom of
his soul—to leave the thoughts he had uttered sufficient time to eat
deeply into the mind of his companion.</p>
<p>"All that Heaven does, Heaven does well," continued the bishop of Vannes;
"and I am so persuaded of it that I have long been thankful to have been
chosen depositary of the secret which I have aided you to discover. To a
just Providence was necessary an instrument, at once penetrating,
persevering, and convinced, to accomplish a great work. I am this
instrument. I possess penetration, perseverance, conviction; I govern a
mysterious people, who has taken for its motto, the motto of God, '<i>Patiens
quia oeternus</i>.'" The prince moved. "I divine, monseigneur, why you are
raising your head, and are surprised at the people I have under my
command. You did not know you were dealing with a king—oh!
monseigneur, king of a people very humble, much disinherited; humble
because they have no force save when creeping; disinherited, because
never, almost never in this world, do my people reap the harvest they sow,
nor eat the fruit they cultivate. They labor for an abstract idea; they
heap together all the atoms of their power, to from a single man; and
round this man, with the sweat of their labor, they create a misty halo,
which his genius shall, in turn, render a glory gilded with the rays of
all the crowns in Christendom. Such is the man you have beside you,
monseigneur. It is to tell you that he has drawn you from the abyss for a
great purpose, to raise you above the powers of the earth—above
himself." <SPAN href="#linknote-1" name="linknoteref-1" id="linknoteref-1"><small>1</small></SPAN></p>
<p>The prince lightly touched Aramis's arm. "You speak to me," he said, "of
that religious order whose chief you are. For me, the result of your words
is, that the day you desire to hurl down the man you shall have raised,
the event will be accomplished; and that you will keep under your hand
your creation of yesterday."</p>
<p>"Undeceive yourself, monseigneur," replied the bishop. "I should not take
the trouble to play this terrible game with your royal highness, if I had
not a double interest in gaining it. The day you are elevated, you are
elevated forever; you will overturn the footstool, as you rise, and will
send it rolling so far, that not even the sight of it will ever again
recall to you its right to simple gratitude."</p>
<p>"Oh, monsieur!"</p>
<p>"Your movement, monseigneur, arises from an excellent disposition. I thank
you. Be well assured, I aspire to more than gratitude! I am convinced
that, when arrived at the summit, you will judge me still more worthy to
be your friend; and then, monseigneur, we two will do such great deeds,
that ages hereafter shall long speak of them."</p>
<p>"Tell me plainly, monsieur—tell me without disguise—what I am
to-day, and what you aim at my being to-morrow."</p>
<p>"You are the son of King Louis XIII., brother of Louis XIV., natural and
legitimate heir to the throne of France. In keeping you near him, as
Monsieur has been kept—Monsieur, your younger brother—the king
reserved to himself the right of being legitimate sovereign. The doctors
only could dispute his legitimacy. But the doctors always prefer the king
who is to the king who is not. Providence has willed that you should be
persecuted; this persecution to-day consecrates you king of France. You
had, then, a right to reign, seeing that it is disputed; you had a right
to be proclaimed seeing that you have been concealed; and you possess
royal blood, since no one has dared to shed yours, as that of your
servants has been shed. Now see, then, what this Providence, which you
have so often accused of having in every way thwarted you, has done for
you. It has given you the features, figure, age, and voice of your
brother; and the very causes of your persecution are about to become those
of your triumphant restoration. To-morrow, after to-morrow—from the
very first, regal phantom, living shade of Louis XIV., you will sit upon
his throne, whence the will of Heaven, confided in execution to the arm of
man, will have hurled him, without hope of return."</p>
<p>"I understand," said the prince, "my brother's blood will not be shed,
then."</p>
<p>"You will be sole arbiter of his fate."</p>
<p>"The secret of which they made an evil use against me?"</p>
<p>"You will employ it against him. What did he do to conceal it? He
concealed you. Living image of himself, you will defeat the conspiracy of
Mazarin and Anne of Austria. You, my prince, will have the same interest
in concealing him, who will, as a prisoner, resemble you, as you will
resemble him as a king."</p>
<p>"I fall back on what I was saying to you. Who will guard him?"</p>
<p>"Who guarded <i>you?</i>"</p>
<p>"You know this secret—you have made use of it with regard to myself.
Who else knows it?"</p>
<p>"The queen-mother and Madame de Chevreuse."</p>
<p>"What will they do?"</p>
<p>"Nothing, if you choose."</p>
<p>"How is that?"</p>
<p>"How can they recognize you, if you act in such a manner that no one can
recognize you?"</p>
<p>"'Tis true; but there are grave difficulties."</p>
<p>"State them, prince."</p>
<p>"My brother is married; I cannot take my brother's wife."</p>
<p>"I will cause Spain to consent to a divorce; it is in the interest of your
new policy; it is human morality. All that is really noble and really
useful in this world will find its account therein."</p>
<p>"The imprisoned king will speak."</p>
<p>"To whom do you think he will speak—to the walls?"</p>
<p>"You mean, by walls, the men in whom you put confidence."</p>
<p>"If need be, yes. And besides, your royal highness—"</p>
<p>"Besides?"</p>
<p>"I was going to say, that the designs of Providence do not stop on such a
fair road. Every scheme of this caliber is completed by its results, like
a geometrical calculation. The king, in prison, will not be for you the
cause of embarrassment that you have been for the king enthroned. His soul
is naturally proud and impatient; it is, moreover, disarmed and enfeebled,
by being accustomed to honors, and by the license of supreme power. The
same Providence which has willed that the concluding step in the
geometrical calculation I have had the honor of describing to your royal
highness should be your ascension to the throne, and the destruction of
him who is hurtful to you, has also determined that the conquered one
shall soon end both his own and your sufferings. Therefore, his soul and
body have been adapted for but a brief agony. Put into prison as a private
individual, left alone with your doubts, deprived of everything, you have
exhibited the most sublime, enduring principle of life in withstanding all
this. But your brother, a captive, forgotten, and in bonds, will not long
endure the calamity; and Heaven will resume his soul at the appointed time—that
is to say, soon."</p>
<p>At this point in Aramis's gloomy analysis, a bird of night uttered from
the depths of the forest that prolonged and plaintive cry which makes
every creature tremble.</p>
<p>"I will exile the deposed king," said Philippe, shuddering; "'twill be
more human."</p>
<p>"The king's good pleasure will decide the point," said Aramis. "But has
the problem been well put? Have I brought out of the solution according to
the wishes or the foresight of your royal highness?"</p>
<p>"Yes, monsieur, yes; you have forgotten nothing—except, indeed, two
things."</p>
<p>"The first?"</p>
<p>"Let us speak of it at once, with the same frankness we have already
conversed in. Let us speak of the causes which may bring about the ruin of
all the hopes we have conceived. Let us speak of the risks we are
running."</p>
<p>"They would be immense, infinite, terrific, insurmountable, if, as I have
said, all things did not concur to render them of absolutely no account.
There is no danger either for you or for me, if the constancy and
intrepidity of your royal highness are equal to that perfection of
resemblance to your brother which nature has bestowed upon you. I repeat
it, there are no dangers, only obstacles; a word, indeed, which I find in
all languages, but have always ill-understood, and, were I king, would
have obliterated as useless and absurd."</p>
<p>"Yes, indeed, monsieur; there is a very serious obstacle, an
insurmountable danger, which you are forgetting."</p>
<p>"Ah!" said Aramis.</p>
<p>"There is conscience, which cries aloud; remorse, that never dies."</p>
<p>"True, true," said the bishop; "there is a weakness of heart of which you
remind me. You are right, too, for that, indeed, is an immense obstacle.
The horse afraid of the ditch, leaps into the middle of it, and is killed!
The man who trembling crosses his sword with that of another leaves
loopholes whereby his enemy has him in his power."</p>
<p>"Have you a brother?" said the young man to Aramis.</p>
<p>"I am alone in the world," said the latter, with a hard, dry voice.</p>
<p>"But, surely, there is some one in the world whom you love?" added
Philippe.</p>
<p>"No one!—Yes, I love you."</p>
<p>The young man sank into so profound a silence, that the mere sound of his
respiration seemed like a roaring tumult for Aramis. "Monseigneur," he
resumed, "I have not said all I had to say to your royal highness; I have
not offered you all the salutary counsels and useful resources which I
have at my disposal. It is useless to flash bright visions before the eyes
of one who seeks and loves darkness: useless, too, is it to let the
magnificence of the cannon's roar make itself heard in the ears of one who
loves repose and the quiet of the country. Monseigneur, I have your
happiness spread out before me in my thoughts; listen to my words;
precious they indeed are, in their import and their sense, for you who
look with such tender regard upon the bright heavens, the verdant meadows,
the pure air. I know a country instinct with delights of every kind, an
unknown paradise, a secluded corner of the world—where alone,
unfettered and unknown, in the thick covert of the woods, amidst flowers,
and streams of rippling water, you will forget all the misery that human
folly has so recently allotted you. Oh! listen to me, my prince. I do not
jest. I have a heart, and mind, and soul, and can read your own,—aye,
even to its depths. I will not take you unready for your task, in order to
cast you into the crucible of my own desires, of my caprice, or my
ambition. Let it be all or nothing. You are chilled and galled, sick at
heart, overcome by excess of the emotions which but one hour's liberty has
produced in you. For me, that is a certain and unmistakable sign that you
do not wish to continue at liberty. Would you prefer a more humble life, a
life more suited to your strength? Heaven is my witness, that I wish your
happiness to be the result of the trial to which I have exposed you."</p>
<p>"Speak, speak," said the prince, with a vivacity which did not escape
Aramis.</p>
<p>"I know," resumed the prelate, "in the Bas-Poitou, a canton, of which no
one in France suspects the existence. Twenty leagues of country is
immense, is it not? Twenty leagues, monseigneur, all covered with water
and herbage, and reeds of the most luxuriant nature; the whole studded
with islands covered with woods of the densest foliage. These large
marshes, covered with reeds as with a thick mantle, sleep silently and
calmly beneath the sun's soft and genial rays. A few fishermen with their
families indolently pass their lives away there, with their great
living-rafts of poplar and alder, the flooring formed of reeds, and the
roof woven out of thick rushes. These barks, these floating-houses, are
wafted to and fro by the changing winds. Whenever they touch a bank, it is
but by chance; and so gently, too, that the sleeping fisherman is not
awakened by the shock. Should he wish to land, it is merely because he has
seen a large flight of landrails or plovers, of wild ducks, teal, widgeon,
or woodchucks, which fall an easy pray to net or gun. Silver shad, eels,
greedy pike, red and gray mullet, swim in shoals into his nets; he has but
to choose the finest and largest, and return the others to the waters.
Never yet has the food of the stranger, be he soldier or simple citizen,
never has any one, indeed, penetrated into that district. The sun's rays
there are soft and tempered: in plots of solid earth, whose soil is swart
and fertile, grows the vine, nourishing with generous juice its purple,
white, and golden grapes. Once a week, a boat is sent to deliver the bread
which has been baked at an oven—the common property of all. There—like
the seigneurs of early days—powerful in virtue of your dogs, your
fishing-lines, your guns, and your beautiful reed-built house, would you
live, rich in the produce of the chase, in plentitude of absolute secrecy.
There would years of your life roll away, at the end of which, no longer
recognizable, for you would have been perfectly transformed, you would
have succeeded in acquiring a destiny accorded to you by Heaven. There are
a thousand pistoles in this bag, monseigneur—more, far more, than
sufficient to purchase the whole marsh of which I have spoken; more than
enough to live there as many years as you have days to live; more than
enough to constitute you the richest, the freest, and the happiest man in
the country. Accept it, as I offer it you—sincerely, cheerfully.
Forthwith, without a moment's pause, I will unharness two of my horses,
which are attached to the carriage yonder, and they, accompanied by my
servant—my deaf and dumb attendant—shall conduct you—traveling
throughout the night, sleeping during the day—to the locality I have
described; and I shall, at least, have the satisfaction of knowing that I
have rendered to my prince the major service he himself preferred. I shall
have made one human being happy; and Heaven for that will hold me in
better account than if I had made one man powerful; the former task is far
more difficult. And now, monseigneur, your answer to this proposition?
Here is the money. Nay, do not hesitate. At Poitou, you can risk nothing,
except the chance of catching the fevers prevalent there; and even of
them, the so-called wizards of the country will cure you, for the sake of
your pistoles. If you play the other game, you run the chance of being
assassinated on a throne, strangled in a prison-cell. Upon my soul, I
assure you, now I begin to compare them together, I myself should hesitate
which lot I should accept."</p>
<p>"Monsieur," replied the young prince, "before I determine, let me alight
from this carriage, walk on the ground, and consult that still voice
within me, which Heaven bids us all to hearken to. Ten minutes is all I
ask, and then you shall have your answer."</p>
<p>"As you please, monseigneur," said Aramis, bending before him with
respect, so solemn and august in tone and address had sounded these
strange words.</p>
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