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Updated: June 26, 2025
"To what prisoner?" said Baisemeaux, trembling. "You pretend to be ignorant? Very good it is the best plan for you, perhaps; for if, in fact, you were to admit your participation in such a crime, it would be all over with you. I wish, therefore, to seem to believe in your assumption of ignorance." "I entreat you, monseigneur " "That will do. Lead me to the prisoner." "To Marchiali?"
"Who is Marchiali?" "The prisoner who was brought back this morning by M. d'Herblay." "He is called Marchiali?" said the superintendent, his conviction somewhat shaken by Baisemeaux's cool manner. "Yes, monseigneur; that is the name under which he was inscribed here."
And they left the prison, passing before Baisemeaux, who looked completely bewildered as he saw Marchiali once more leave; and, in his helplessness, tore out the major portion of his few remaining hairs.
"It is the prisoner," said the superintendent to him, "whom M. d'Herblay carried away the day before yesterday?" "Yes, monseigneur." "And whom he brought back this morning?" added Fouquet, quickly: for he understood immediately the mechanism of Aramis's plan. "Precisely, monseigneur." "And his name is Marchiali, you say?" "Yes, Marchiali.
In fact, the prisoner was anything but a profitable investment for M. Baisemeaux, and became more annoying than agreeable to him. These complications of Seldon and Marchiali the complications first of setting at liberty and then imprisoning again, the complications arising from the strong likeness in question had at last found a very proper denouement.
'Tis the name of the man they set free." "Oh! you mean to say Marchiali?" said Aramis. "Marchiali? oh! yes, indeed. No, no, Seldon." "I think you are making a mistake, Monsieur Baisemeaux." "I have read the order." "And I also." "And I saw 'Seldon' in letters as large as that," and Baisemeaux held up his finger.
"To tell me very plainly there is 'Marchiali." "And in a good handwriting, too." "'Tis a wonder! I still see this order and the name of Seldon, Irishman. I see it. Ah! I even recollect that under this name there was a blot of ink." "No, there is no ink; no, there is no blot." "Oh! but there was, though; I know it, because I rubbed my finger this very one in the powder that was over the blot."
"What other?" "Marchiali." "I have got him here with me." "But that is not enough for me. I require a new order to take him back again." "Don't talk such nonsense, my dear Baisemeaux; you talk like a child! Where is the order you received respecting Marchiali?" Baisemeaux ran to his iron chest and took it out.
Baisemeaux showed him the order to release Seldon. "Very good," said Fouquet; "but Seldon is not Marchiali." "But Marchiali is not at liberty, monseigneur; he is here." "But you said that M. d'Herblay carried him away and brought him back again." "I did not say so." "So surely did you say it, that I almost seem to hear it now." "It was a slip of my tongue, then, monseigneur."
There is a plot, I tell you, beginning with the governor of the Bastile." "Be careful, sire, for this man has been deceived as every one else has by the prince's likeness to yourself." "Likeness? Absurd!" "This Marchiali must be singularly like your majesty, to be able to deceive every one's eye," Fouquet persisted. "Ridiculous!"
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