The Man in the Iron Mask by Alexandre Dumas (the beginning after the end novel read txt) π
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- Author: Alexandre Dumas
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Every one has experienced the sensation the above remark conveys; there is hardly a person who, in the midst of a nightmare whose influence is suffocating, has not said to himself, by the help of that light which still burns in the brain when every human light is extinguished, βIt is nothing but a dream, after all.β This was precisely what Louis XIV. said to himself; but when he said, βCome, come! wake up,β he perceived that not only was he already awake, but still more, that he had his eyes open also. And then he looked all round him. On his right hand and on his left two armed men stood in stolid silence, each wrapped in a huge cloak, and the face covered with a mask; one of them held a small lamp in his hand, whose glimmering light revealed the saddest picture a king could look upon. Louis could not help saying to himself that his dream still lasted, and that all he had to do to cause it to disappear was to move his arms or to say something aloud; he darted from his bed, and found himself upon the damp, moist ground. Then, addressing himself to the man who held the lamp in his hand, he said:
βWhat is this, monsieur, and what is the meaning of this jest?β
βIt is no jest,β replied in a deep voice the masked figure that held the lantern.
βDo you belong to M. Fouquet?β inquired the king, greatly astonished at his situation.
βIt matters very little to whom we belong,β said the phantom; βwe are your masters now, that is sufficient.β
The king, more impatient than intimidated, turned to the other masked figure. βIf this is a comedy,β he said, βyou will tell M. Fouquet that I find it unseemly and improper, and that I command it should cease.β
The second masked person to whom the king had addressed himself was a man of huge stature and vast circumference. He held himself erect and motionless as any block of marble. βWell!β added the king, stamping his foot, βyou do not answer!β
βWe do not answer you, my good monsieur,β said the giant, in a stentorian voice, βbecause there is nothing to say.β
βAt least, tell me what you want,β exclaimed Louis, folding his arms with a passionate gesture.
βYou will know by and by,β replied the man who held the lamp.
βIn the meantime tell me where I am.β
βLook.β
Louis looked all round him; but by the light of the lamp which the masked figure raised for the purpose, he could perceive nothing but the damp walls which glistened here and there with the slimy traces of the snail. βOhβoh!βa dungeon,β cried the king.
βNo, a subterranean passage.β
βWhich leadsβ?β
βWill you be good enough to follow us?β
βI shall not stir from hence!β cried the king.
βIf you are obstinate, my dear young friend,β replied the taller of the two, βI will lift you up in my arms, and roll you up in your own cloak, and if you should happen to be stifled, whyβso much the worse for you.β
As he said this, he disengaged from beneath his cloak a hand of which Milo of Crotona would have envied him the possession, on the day when he had that unhappy idea of rending his last oak. The king dreaded violence, for he could well believe that the two men into whose power he had fallen had not gone so far with any idea of drawing back, and that they would consequently be ready to proceed to extremities, if necessary. He shook his head and said: βIt seems I have fallen into the hands of a couple of assassins. Move on, then.β
Neither of the men answered a word to this remark. The one who carried the lantern walked first, the king followed him, while the second masked figure closed the procession. In this manner they passed along a winding gallery of some length, with as many staircases leading out of it as are to be found in the mysterious and gloomy palaces of Ann Radcliffeβs creation. All these windings and turnings, during which the king heard the sound of running water over his head, ended at last in a long corridor closed by an iron door. The figure with the lamp opened the door with one of the keys he wore suspended at his girdle, where, during the whole of the brief journey, the king had heard them rattle. As soon as the door was opened and admitted the air, Louis recognized the balmy odors that trees exhale in hot summer nights. He paused, hesitatingly, for a moment or two; but the huge sentinel who followed him thrust him out of the subterranean passage.
βAnother blow,β said the king, turning towards the one who had just had the audacity to touch his sovereign; βwhat do you intend to do with the
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