"
"Well, but," said I, "since you really do know all about this man
with the iron mask, you will tell it to me, will you not?"
"I should be very careful how I gratified your curiosity," said
he; "this is a point of history which must never be cleared up;
state reasons require that it should for ever remain a matter of doubt."
"And
must have you tell me," returned I; "do pray tell, and I
will love you with all my heart."
"It cannot be."
"And why not? This unfortunate person has been long dead without
leaving any posterity."
"Are you quite sure of that?" inquired the king, in a serious tone.
"But what signifies," said I, "whether he be dead or alive? I
entreat of you to bestow upon me this proof of your confidence.
Who of all those who have spoken of him have told the truth?"
"Nobody; but Voltaire has approached it more nearly than any
one else."
After this partial confession the king implored of me to change
the conversation, which I could easily perceive was extremely
disagreeable to him. Nevertheless, it seemed to me quite clear,
that this celebrated person belonged to the royal family, but by
what title I could not devise. It was in vain that I afterwards
revived the subject; not even during the most tender confidences
could I obtain the information I desired. Possibly had I lived
with him some years more I might have succeeded in drawing from
him all he knew respecting the object of my curiosity.
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