brother."

Charles II. became extremely pale; he passed his cold hand over his
brow, and struggled for a few instants against a faintness that made him
tremble. "I understand," said he at last; "no more hope!"

Louis seized the hand of Charles II. "Wait, my brother," said he;
"precipitate nothing, everything may change; hasty resolutions ruin all
causes, add another year of trial, I implore you, to the years you have
already undergone. You have, to induce you to act now rather than
at another time, neither occasion nor opportunity. Come with me, my
brother; I will give you one of my residences, whichever you prefer, to
inhabit. I, with you, will keep my eyes upon events; we will prepare.
Come, then, my brother, have courage!"

Charles II. withdrew his hand from that of the king, and drawing back,
to salute him with more ceremony, "With all my heart, thanks!" replied
he, "sire; but I have prayed without success to the greatest king on
earth; now I will go and ask a miracle of God." And he went out without
being willing to hear any more, his head carried loftily, his hand
trembling, with a painful contraction of his noble countenance, and that
profound gloom which, finding no more hope in the world of men,
appeared to go beyond it, and ask it in worlds unknown. The officer of
musketeers, on seeing him pass by thus pale, bowed almost to his knees
as he saluted him. He then took a flambeau, called two musketeers, and
descended the deserted staircase with the unfortunate king, holding in
his left hand his hat, the plume of which swept the steps. Arrived at
the door, the musketeer asked the king which way he was going, that he
might direct the musketeers.

"Monsieur," replied Charles II., in a subdued voice, "you who have known
my father, say, did you ever pray for him? If you have done so, do not
forget me in your prayers. Now, I am going alone, and beg of you not to
accompany me, or have me accompanied any further."

The officer bowed and sent away the musketeers into the interior of the
palace. But he himself remained an instant under the porch watching the
departing Charles II., till he was lost in the turn of the next street.
"To him as to his father formerly," murmured he, "Athos, if he
were here, would say with reason,--'Salute fallen majesty!'" Then,
reascending the staircase: "Oh! the vile service that I follow!" said he
at every step. "Oh! my pitiful master! Life thus carried on is no longer
tolerable, and it i