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The Three Musketeers
Twenty Years Later
The Vicomte De Bragelonne
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The Vicomte De Bragelonne 659 at Prostate Health
it spoke the truth. Philippe bent over the bed, and
perceived a pocket-handkerchief lying on it, which was still damp from
the cold sweat which had poured from Louis XIV.s face. This
sweat-bestained handkerchief terrified Philippe, as the blood of Abel
had terrified Cain.
"I am now face to face with my destiny," said Philippe, with his eyes on
fire, and his face lividly white. "Is it likely to be more terrifying
than my captivity has been sad and gloomy? When I am compelled to follow
out, at every moment, the sovereign power and authority I have usurped,
shall I never cease to listen to the scruples of my heart? Yes! the king
has lain on this bed: it is, indeed, his head that has left its
impression on this pillow; his bitter tears which have stained this
handkerchief; and yet, I hesitate to throw myself on the bed, or to
press in my hand the handkerchief which is embroidered with my brothers
arms. Away with this weakness; let me imitate M. dHerblay, who asserts
that a mans action should be always one degree above his thought; let
me imitate M. dHerblay, whose thoughts are of and for himself alone,
who regards himself as a man of honor, so long as he injures or betrays
his enemies only. I, I alone, should have occupied this bed, if Louis
XIV. had not, owing to my mothers criminal abandonment of me, stood in
my way; and this handkerchief, embroidered with the arms of France,
would, in right and justice, belong to me alone, if, as M. dHerblay
observes, I had been left in my place in the royal cradle. Philippe, son
of France, take your place on that bed; Philippe, sole king of France,
resume the blazonry which is yours! Philippe, sole heir presumptive to
Louis XIII., your father, show yourself without pity or mercy for the
usurper who, at this moment, has not even to suffer the agony of the
remorse of all that you have had to submit to."
With these words, Philippe, notwithstanding an instinctive repugnance of
feeling, and in spite of the shudder of terror which mastered his will,
threw himself on the royal bed, and forced his muscles to press the
still warm place where Louis XIV. had lain, while he buried his burning
face in the handkerchief still moistened by his brothers tears. With
his head thrown back and buried in the soft down of his pillow, Philippe
perceived above him the crown of France, suspended, as we have stated,
by angels with outspread golden wings.
A man may be ambitious of lying in a lions den, but can hardly hope to
sleep there quietly. Philippe listened attentively to every sound; his
heart panted and throbbed at the very suspicion of approaching terror
and misfortune; but confident in his own strength, which was confirmed
by the force of an overpowering resolute determination, he waited until
some decisive circumstance should permit him to judge for himself. He
hoped that some imminent danger would be revealed for him, like those
phosphoric lights of the tempest which show the sailors the altitude of
the waves against which they have to struggle. But nothing approached.
Silence, the mortal enemy of restless hearts, the mortal enemy of
ambitious minds, shrouded in the thickness of its gloom during the
remainder of the night the future king of France, who lay there
sheltered beneath his stolen crown. Toward the morning a shadow, rather
than a body, glided into the royal chamber; Philippe expected his
approach, and neither expressed nor exhibited any surprise.
"Well, M. dHerblay?" he said.
"Well, sire, all is done."
"How?"
"Exactly as we expected."
"Did he resist?"
"Terribly! tears and entreaties."
"And then?"
"A perfect stupor."
"But, at last?"
"Oh! at last, a complete victory, and absolute silence."
"Did the governor of the Bastille suspect anything?"
"Nothing."
"The resemblance, however--"
"That was the cause of the success."
"But the prisoner cannot fail to explain himself. Think well of that. I
have myself been able to do that, on a former occasion."
"I have already provided for everything. In a few days, sooner if
necessary, we will take the captive out of his prison, and will send him
out of the country, to a place of exile so remote--"
"People can return from their exile, Monsieur dHerblay."
"To a place of exile so distant, I was going to say, that human strength
and the duration of human life would not be enough for his return."
And once more a cold look of intelligence passed between Aramis and the
young king.
"And M. de Valon?" asked Philippe,
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