These last words
helped, in a measure, to resolve the enigma which comte de la
Marche had left me to unravel; and, with a view to satisfy myself
more positively on the subject, I availed myself of the first
time I was alone with the king, to lead the conversation to
this story.
At the mention of the "Iron Mask," Louis XV started. "And do
you really credit such a fable?" asked he.
"Is it then entirely untrue?" inquired I.
"Certainly not," he replied; "all that has been said on the matter
is destitute of even common sense."
"Well," cried I, "what your majesty says only confirms what I
heard from the marechal de Richelieu."
"And what has he been telling you?"
"Very little, sire; he told me only, that the secret of who the
'Iron Mask' really was had not been communicated to you."
'The marechal is a simpleton if he tells you so. I know the
whole affair, and was well acquainted with the unhappy business."
"Ah!" exclaimed I, clapping my hands in triumph, "just now you
affected perfect ignorance; you knew nothing at all about it,
and now--"
"You are a very dangerous woman," cried the king, interrupting
me by loud fits of laughter, "and you are cunning enough even
to surprise the secrets of the state."
"'Tis you, rather, who could not resist the inclination to let me
see that you knew what the marechal had declared you ignorant of.
Which of us two is the more to blame, I wonder?"
"Myself, I think," answered the king; "for after all, you did but
act with the candor and curiosity of your sex: it was for me to
have employed more of the prudence of a king in my replies to
your interrogatories.
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