nnis-court, in which the
players throw dice for the crown of my father. The two most eager
players are Lambert and Monk. Well, sire, I, in my turn, wish to take
part in this game, where the stakes are thrown upon my royal mantle.
Sire, it only requires a million to corrupt one of these players and
make an ally of him, or two hundred of your gentlemen to drive them out
of my palace at Whitehall, as Christ drove the money-changers from the
temple."

"You come, then," replied Louis XIV., "to ask me----"

"For your assistance, that is to say, not only for that which kings owe
to each other, but that which simple Christians owe to each other--your
assistance, sire, either in money or men. Your assistance, sire, and
within a month, whether I oppose Lambert to Monk, or Monk to Lambert, I
shall have reconquered my paternal inheritance, without having cost my
country a guinea, or my subjects a drop of blood, for they are now all
drunk with revolutions, protectorates, and republics, and ask nothing
better than to fall staggering to sleep in the arms of royalty. Your
assistance, sire, and I shall owe you more than I owe my father,--my
poor father, who bought at so dear a rate the ruin of our house! You may
judge, sire, whether I am unhappy, whether I am in despair, for I accuse
my own father!"

And the blood mounted to the pale face of Charles II., who remained for
an instant with his head between his hands, and as if blinded by that
blood which appeared to revolt against the filial blasphemy.

The young king was not less affected than his elder brother; he threw
himself about in his fauteuil, and could not find a single word of
reply.

Charles II., to whom ten years in age gave a superior strength to master
his emotions, recovered his speech the first.

"Sire," said he, "your reply? I wait for it as a criminal waits for his
sentence. Must I die?"

"My brother," replied the French prince, "you ask me for a million--me,
who was never possessed of a quarter of that sum! I possess nothing. I
am no more king of France than you are king of England. I am a name,
a cipher dressed in fleur-de-lised velvet,--that is all. I am upon a
visible throne; that is my only advantage over your majesty. I have
nothing--I can do nothing."

"Can it be so?" exclaimed Charles II.

"My brother," said Louis, sinking his voice, "I have undergone miseries
with which my poorest gentlemen are unacquainted. If my poor Laporte
were here, he would tel