“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 Fère,’ 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 Fère,’ 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 I thought 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. ‘I buried 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 anyone 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 Fère, bid me adieu!’
“ ‘Adieu, adieu, sire!’ cried I.”
Charles arose, and went and leant his burning brow against the window.
“It was then,” continued Athos, “that the king pronounced the word ‘Remember!’ addressed to me. You see, sire, that I have remembered.”
The king could not resist or conceal his emotion. Athos beheld the movement of his shoulders, which undulated convulsively; he heard the sobs which burst from his overcharged breast. He was silent himself, suffocated by the flood of bitter remembrances he had just poured upon that royal head. Charles II, with a violent effort, left the window, devoured his tears, and came and sat by Athos. “Sire,” said the latter, “I thought till today that the time had not yet arrived for the employment of that last resource; but, with my eyes fixed upon England, I felt it was approaching. Tomorrow I meant to go and inquire in what part of the world Your Majesty was, and then I purposed going to you. You come to me, sire; that is an indication that God is with us.”
“My lord,” said Charles, in a voice choked by emotion, “you are, for me, what an angel sent from heaven would be—you are a preserver sent to me from the tomb of my father himself; but, believe me, for ten years’ civil war has passed over my country, striking down men, tearing up soil, it is no more probable that gold should remain in the entrails of the earth, than love in the hearts of my subjects.”
“Sire, the spot in which His Majesty buried the million is well known to me, and no one, I am sure, has been able to discover it. Besides, is the castle of Newcastle quite destroyed? Have they demolished it stone by stone, and uprooted the soil to the last tree?”
“No, it is still standing: but at this moment General Monck occupies it and is encamped there. The only spot from which I could look for succor, where I possess a single resource, you see, is invaded by my enemies.”
“General Monck, sire, cannot have discovered the treasure which I speak of.”
“Yes, but can I go and deliver myself up to Monck, in order to recover this treasure? Ah! count, you see plainly I must yield to destiny, since it strikes me to the earth every time I rise. What can I do with Parry as my only servant, with Parry, whom Monck has already driven from his presence? No, no, no, count, we must yield to this last blow.”
“But what Your Majesty cannot do, and what Parry can no more attempt, do you not believe that I could succeed in accomplishing?”
“You—you, count—you would go?”
“If it please Your Majesty,” said Athos, bowing to the king, “yes, I will go, sire.”
“What! you so happy here, count?”
“I am never happy when I have a duty left to accomplish, and it is an imperative duty which the king your father left me to watch over your fortunes, and make a royal use of his money. So, if Your Majesty honors me with a sign, I will go with you.”
“Ah, Monsieur!” said the king, forgetting all royal etiquette and throwing his arms around the neck of Athos, “you prove to me that there is a God in heaven, and that this God sometimes sends messengers to the unfortunate who groan on the earth.”
Athos, exceedingly moved by this burst of feeling of the young man, thanked him with profound respect, and approached the window. “Grimaud!” cried he, “bring out my horses.”
“What, now—immediately!” said the king. “Ah, Monsieur, you are indeed a wonderful man!”
“Sire,” said Athos, “I know nothing more pressing than Your Majesty’s service. Besides,” added he, smiling, “it is a habit contracted long since, in the service of the queen your aunt, and of the king your
