Aramis shuddered in spite of himself.
“You see,” said the king, “that it is useless for you to resist. I am condemned; leave me to my death.”
“My king,” said Aramis, “they well may raise a scaffold, but they cannot make an executioner.”
“What do you mean?” asked the king.
“I mean that at this hour the headsman has been got out of the way by force or persuasion. The scaffold will be ready by tomorrow, but the headsman will be wanting and they will put it off till the day after tomorrow.”
“What then?” said the king.
“Tomorrow night we shall rescue you.”
“How can that be?” cried the king, whose face was lighted up, in spite of himself, by a flash of joy.
“Oh! sir,” cried Parry, “may you and yours be blessed!”
“How can it be?” repeated the king. “I must know, so that I may assist you if there is any chance.”
“I know nothing about it,” continued Aramis, “but the cleverest, the bravest, the most devoted of us four said to me when I left him, ‘Tell the king that tomorrow at ten o’clock at night, we shall carry him off.’ He has said it and will do it.”
“Tell me the name of that generous friend,” said the king, “that I may cherish for him an eternal gratitude, whether he succeeds or not.”
“D’Artagnan, sire, the same who had so nearly rescued you when Colonel Harrison made his untimely entrance.”
“You are, indeed, wonderful men,” said the king; “if such things had been related to me I should not have believed them.”
“Now, sire,” resumed Aramis, “listen to me. Do not forget for a single instant that we are watching over your safety; observe the smallest gesture, the least bit of song, the least sign from anyone near you; watch everything, hear everything, interpret everything.”
“Oh, chevalier!” cried the king, “what can I say to you? There is no word, though it should come from the profoundest depth of my heart, that can express my gratitude. If you succeed I do not say that you will save a king; no, in presence of the scaffold as I am, royalty, I assure you, is a very small affair; but you will save a husband to his wife, a father to his children. Chevalier, take my hand; it is that of a friend who will love you to his last sigh.”
Aramis stooped to kiss the king’s hand, but Charles clasped his and pressed it to his heart.
At this moment a man entered, without even knocking at the door. Aramis tried to withdraw his hand, but the king still held it. The man was one of those Puritans, half preacher and half soldier, who swarmed around Cromwell.
“What do you want, sir?” said the king.
“I desire to know if the confession of Charles Stuart is at an end?” said the stranger.
“And what is it to you?” replied the king; “we are not of the same religion.”
“All men are brothers,” said the Puritan. “One of my brothers is about to die and I come to prepare him.”
“Bear with him,” whispered Aramis; “it is doubtless some spy.”
“After my reverend Lord Bishop,” said the king to the man, “I shall hear you with pleasure, sir.”
The man retired, but not before examining the supposed Juxon with an attention which did not escape the king.
“Chevalier,” said the king, when the door was closed, “I believe you are right and that this man only came here with evil intentions. Take care that no misfortune befalls you when you leave.”
“I thank Your Majesty,” said Aramis, “but under these robes I have a coat of mail, a pistol and a dagger.”
“Go, then, sir, and God keep you!”
The king accompanied him to the door, where Aramis pronounced his benediction upon him, and passing through the anterooms, filled with soldiers, jumped into his carriage and drove to the bishop’s palace. Juxon was waiting for him impatiently.
“Well?” said he, on perceiving Aramis.
“Everything has succeeded as I expected; spies, guards, satellites, all took me for you, and the king blesses you while waiting for you to bless him.”
“May God protect you, my son; for your example has given me at the same time hope and courage.”
Aramis resumed his own attire and left Juxon with the assurance that he might again have recourse to him.
He had scarcely gone ten yards in the street when he perceived that he was followed by a man, wrapped in a large cloak. He placed his hand on his dagger and stopped. The man came straight toward him. It was Porthos.
“My dear friend,” cried Aramis.
“You see, we had each our mission,” said Porthos; “mine was to guard you and I am doing so. Have you seen the king?”
“Yes, and all goes well.”
“We are to meet our friends at the hotel at eleven.”
It was then striking half-past ten by St. Paul’s.
Arrived at the hotel, it was not long before Athos entered.
“All’s well,” he cried, as he entered; “I have hired a cedar wherry, as light as a canoe, as easy on the wing as any swallow. It is waiting for us at Greenwich, opposite the Isle of Dogs, manned by a captain and four men, who for the sum of fifty pounds sterling will keep themselves at our disposition three successive nights. Once on board we drop down the Thames and in two hours are on the open sea. In case I am killed, the captain’s name is Roger and the skiff is called the Lightning. A handkerchief, tied at the four corners, is to be the signal.”
Next moment d’Artagnan entered.
“Empty your pockets,” said he; “I want a hundred pounds, and as for my own—” and he emptied them inside out.
The sum was collected in a minute. D’Artagnan ran out and returned directly after.
“There,” said he, “it’s done. Ough! and not without a deal of trouble, too.”
“Has the executioner left London?” asked
