"Well, then, sire, let your majesty, according to the promise you have made me, have the goodness to listen to what I have to say." Charles made an affirmative sign with his head.Athos walked straight up to the door, the bolts of which he drew, after looking to see if anybody was near, and then returned."Sire," said he, "your majesty has kindly remembered that I lent assistance to the very noble and very unfortunate Charles I., when his executioners conducted him from St.James's to Whitehall.""Yes, certainly, I do remember it, and always shall remember it.""Sire, it is a dismal history to be heard by a son who no doubt has had it related to him many times; and yet I ought to repeat it to your majesty without omitting one detail.""Speak on, monsieur."
"When the king your father ascended the scaffold, or rather when he passed from his chamber to the scaffold on a level with his window, everything was prepared for his escape.The executioner was got out of the way; a hole contrived under the floor of his apartment; I myself was beneath the funeral vault, which I heard all at once creak beneath his feet.""Parry has related to me all these terrible details, monsieur."Athos bowed, and resumed."But here is something he has not related to you, sire, for what follows passed between God, your father, and myself; and never has the revelation of it been made even to my dearest friends.`Go a little further off,' said the august patient to the executioner; `it is but for an instant, and I know that I belong to you; but remember not to strike till I give the signal.I wish to offer up my prayers in freedom.'""Pardon me," said Charles II., turning very pale, "but you, count, who know so many details of this melancholy event, --details which, as you said just now, have never been revealed to anyone, -- do you know the name of that infernal executioner, of that base wretch who concealed his face that he might assassinate a king with impunity?"Athos became slightly pale."His name?" said he, "yes, Iknow it, but cannot tell it."
"And what is become of him, for nobody in England knows his destiny?""He is dead."
"But he did not die in his bed; he did not die a calm and peaceful death, he did not die the death of the good?""He died a violent death, in a terrible night, rendered so by the passions of man and a tempest from God.His body, pierced by a dagger, sank to the depths of the ocean.God pardon his murderer!""Proceed, then," said Charles II., seeing that the count was unwilling to say more.
"The king of England, after having, as I have said, spoken thus to the masked executioner, added, -- `Observe, you will not strike till I shall stretch out my arms saying --REMEMBER!'"
"I was aware," said Charles, in an agitated voice, "that that was the last word pronounced by my unfortunate father.
But why and for whom?"
"For the French gentleman placed beneath his scaffold.""For you, then, monsieur?"
"Yes, sire; and every one of the words which he spoke to me, through the planks of the scaffold covered with a black cloth, still sounds in my ears.The king knelt down on one knee: `Comte de la Fere,' said he, `are you there?' `Yes, sire,' replied I.Then the king stooped towards the boards."Charles II., also palpitating with interest, burning with grief, stooped towards Athos, to catch, one by one, every word that escaped from him.His head touched that of the comte.
"Then," continued Athos, "the king stooped.`Comte de la Fere,' said he, `I could not be saved by you: it was not to be.Now, even though I commit a sacrilege, I must speak to you.Yes, I have spoken to men -- yes, I have spoken to God, and I speak to you the last.To sustain a cause which Ithought sacred, I have lost the throne of my fathers and the heritage of my children.'"Charles II.concealed his face in his hands, and a bitter tear glided between his white and slender fingers.
"`I have still a million in gold,' continued the king.`Iburied it in the vaults of the castle of Newcastle, a moment before I left that city.'" Charles raised his head with an expression of such painful joy that it would have drawn tears from any one acquainted with his misfortunes.
"A million!" murmured he."Oh, count!"
"`You alone know that this money exists: employ it when you think it can be of the greatest service to my eldest son.
And now, Comte de la Fere, bid me adieu!'
"`Adieu, adieu, sire!' cried I."
Charles arose, and went and leant his burning brow against the window.
