I even imagine that the king himself is ignorant of it, unless indeed the cardinal de Fleury informed him of it." The marechal told me afterwards that he thought the opinion adopted by Voltaire the most probable, viz: that this unknown person was the son of the queen Anne of Austria, mother of Louis XIV. 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 Iheard 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.""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 Iwill 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? Ientreat 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. Old men, like children, can conceal nothing from those they love, and who have obtained over them an influence they willingly submit to.
