But what about the mask? some one will say,--the mask, which is the characteristic feature of the mysterious prisoner, a feature more striking than all the others, because that whilst the latter are only known to those people who read, the former is recalled by the very name of the famous captive, which one cannot pronounce without picturing him to oneself with a mask covering his face? Need we say that the custom of wearing a mask was formerly very general among the great? Need we quote the example of Marie de Medicis, whom the exact Héroard[624] represents as going to see the young Louis XIII., “who kisses her beneath her mask?” Or the Duchess de Montpensier’s ladies of honour whom she authorised to cover their faces with masks of black velvet?[625] Or, again, the Maréchale de Clérambault, whom Saint-Simon[626] describes “as always wearing a mask of black velvet on the high road or in the galleries?” Need we recall Madame de Maintenon concealing her face under a mask,[627] when she comes seven different times to Versailles to seek the children just born of Madame de Montespan and Louis XIV., and to take them mysteriously to Paris in a _fiacre_. Or the wives of certain rich financiers who, in 1683, dared to wear a mask even in the churches,[628] and thus provoked a severe _ordonnance_ from La Reynie, the Lieutenant of Police? But if at this period we find very frequent examples of the use of a mask in the ordinary course of life, there is absolutely no authentic example of the wearing of a mask being enforced upon a prisoner, and such a measure is altogether peculiar to the famous captive. It has been concluded from this that the prisoner so exceptionally treated must have been of exceptional importance, and that there was some especial interest in concealing his countenance. But, if this were the case, why was he conducted to the Bastille, where a moment of forgetfulness might cause him to be recognized by one of his fellow-captives, and almost infallibly by one of the numerous officers of the fortress? Would it not have been as prudent as it was easy to have avoided this danger by leaving him at the Isles Sainte Marguerite? In order to explain the removal, it has been said that Louis XIV. desired to have the prisoner nearer himself. This is altogether wrong. We have just given[629] the despatches which preceded Saint-Mars’ departure for the Bastille. Do they contain an imperious order, unanswerable, and founded on reasons of State? Far from it. The Minister informs Saint-Mars that the governorship of the Bastille has just become vacant, and inquires if he is willing to accept it. Far from speaking to him of “his old prisoner” in this first despatch,[630] he touches only upon his private affairs, and the evident gain he would experience by accepting this very advantageous proposition; and it is only when Saint-Mars decides upon doing so that the Minister charges him to bring “his old prisoner” with him. If this “old prisoner” had