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Updated: June 26, 2025
"Take care, M. Baisemeaux, take care." "I have nothing to fear, monseigneur; I am acting according to the very strictest regulation." "Do you dare to say so?" "I would say so in the presence of one of the apostles. M. d'Herblay brought me an order to set Seldon at liberty. Seldon is free." "I tell you that Marchiali has left the Bastile." "You must prove that, monseigneur." "Let me see him."
"On the 19th November 1703, Marchiali, aged about forty-five, died in the Bastille, whose body was buried in the graveyard of Saint-Paul's, his parish, on the 20th instant, in the presence of M. Rosarges and of M. Reilh, Surgeon-Major of the Bastille.
As regards his age, he himself said to the Bastille apothecary, a few days before his death, that he thought he was about sixty; and Master Marsolan, surgeon to the Maréchal de Richelieu, and later to the Duc d'Orléans, regent, son-in-law of this apothecary, has repeated it to me more than once. Finally, why give him an Italian name? he was always called Marchiali!
"Yes, yes," he said, quite overwhelmed; "yes, Marchiali. 'Tis plainly written Marchiali! Quite true!" "Ah! "How? the man of whom we have talked so much? The man whom they are every day telling me to take such care of?" "There is 'Marchiali," repeated the inflexible Aramis. "I must own it, monseigneur. But I understand nothing about it." "You believe your eyes, at any rate."
"The same as this one, then," said Aramis, who had continued turning over the leaves, and who had stopped at one of the names which followed Martinier. "Yes, the same as that one." "Is that Marchiali an Italian?" said Aramis, pointing with his finger to the name which had attracted his attention. "Hush!" said Baisemeaux. "Why hush?" said Aramis, involuntarily clenching his white hand.
"For a friend such as you are," said Aramis "for so devoted a servant, I have no secrets;" and he put his mouth close to Baisemeaux's ear, as he said, in a low tone of voice, "you know the resemblance between that unfortunate fellow, and " "And the king? yes!" "Very good; the first use that Marchiali made of his liberty was to persist Can you guess what?" "How is it likely I should guess?"
"In a word, be it how it may, dear M. Baisemeaux," said Aramis, "and whatever you may have seen, the order is signed to release Marchiali, blot or no blot." "The order is signed to release Marchiali," replied Baisemeaux, mechanically, endeavoring to regain his courage. "And you are going to release this prisoner.
Come with me to the keep, monseigneur, you shall see Marchiali." Fouquet darted out of the room, followed by Baisemeaux as he wiped the perspiration from his face. "What a terrible morning!" he said; "what a disgrace for me!" "Walk faster," replied Fouquet. Baisemeaux made a sign to the jailer to precede them. He was afraid of his companion, which the latter could not fail to perceive.
"I thought I had already spoken to you about that Marchiali." "No, it is the first time I ever heard his name pronounced." "That may be, but perhaps I have spoken to you about him without naming him." "Is he an old offender?" asked Aramis, attempting to smile. "On the contrary, he is quite young." "Is his crime, then, very heinous?" "Unpardonable." "Has he assassinated any one?" "Bah!"
"And I read 'Marchiali' in characters as large as this," said Aramis, also holding up two fingers. "To the proof; let us throw a light on the matter," said Baisemeaux, confident he was right. "There is the paper, you have only to read it." "I read 'Marchiali," returned Aramis, spreading out the paper. "Look." Baisemeaux looked, and his arms dropped suddenly.
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