"I, Armand Herval," he said, "do hereby declare, and on the bed of death affirm most solemnly, that had it not been that the Count de Morseiul prevented me, I would have shot the King of France, upon the terrace at Versailles, after the play, on the night before the arrest of the Chevalier de Rohan, and that all I said was perfectly true, in a letter which was written by me to Monsieur de Hatréaumont, dated on the--I cannot recollect the day:" he added, in a lower tone, "it seems as if a mist had come over that part of my memory."
"Never mind," said the Chevalier, "go on, my good friend, go on, the date is unimportant."
"Was it the twenty-fourth or the twenty-fifth?" continued the man. "I cannot recollect for the life of me, your Majesty. It's a short life, too. Mine will soon be spent, and Claire's is all gone----"
He spoke very faintly, indeed; and the Chevalier said, "You forget, my friend, you forget. We were talking of the Count de Morseiul."
"Ah!" cried the man, with a greater effort, and starting up on the straw--"Ah, so we were.--What a fool I am!--Write it down, quick!--Write it down, quick!--But take your fingers off my throat!--Take your fingers off my throat!--I cannot speak if you stop my breath!--What's the use of putting out the light?--Why do you put out the light?--Oh, Heaven, it is death, it is death," and, falling back upon the straw, the strong frame shook for a moment, as if an ague had seized him, and then all was still.
The Chevalier d'Evran shut his teeth close, saying, "This is unfortunate. However, you are a witness, Riquet, to all that he said."
"Lord bless you, noble Sir," replied the valet, "nobody will believe a word that I say. I should consider my character ruined for ever if there was any body, in all Europe, that would believe me upon my oath."
"I had forgot," said the Chevalier, dryly; "your character is in no danger, I believe, on that score. But my word will be believed, and my voice, at least, shall be heard."
"Well, Sir," replied Riquet, perhaps a little piqued at the Chevalier's reply, "let me add my voice too; for though they may believe me in nothing else, they may, perhaps, believe me in a confession which will go to twist my own neck. I wish to be sent to the King, Sir; though if you can find out when he is in a good humour I should prefer it. But my object is to inform him that it was altogether my fault, and my foolishness, and my crime, that prevented the Count de Morseiul from going to Versailles as soon as he was liberated from the Bastille to throw himself at the King's feet. If it had not been for that aforesaid foolishness of mine he would never have come hither, would never have led the rebels at all, and most likely, by this time, would have been as high in the King's good graces as ever."
"I have heard all this before," said the Chevalier. "But are you positively resolved, my good friend, to go voluntarily and make confession of all these things?--Do you remember the consequences?--Do you think of the risks?"