els when he places
his foot upon the vessel which is to bear him into exile. It appears
that the heart already wounded so many times suffers from the least
scratch; it appears that it considers as a good the momentary absence of
evil, which is nothing but the absence of pain; and that God, into the
most terrible misfortunes, has thrown hope as the drop of water which
the rich bad man in hell entreated of Lazarus.

For one instant even the hope of Charles II. had been more than a
fugitive joy;--that was when he found himself so kindly welcomed by his
brother king; then it had taken a form that had become a reality; then,
all at once, the refusal of Mazarin had reduced the fictitious reality
to the state of a dream. This promise of Louis XIV., so soon retracted,
had been nothing but a mockery; a mockery like his crown--like his
scepter--like his friends--like all that had surrounded his royal
childhood, and which had abandoned his proscribed youth. Mockery!
everything was a mockery for Charles II. except the cold, black repose
promised by death.

Such were the ideas of the unfortunate prince while sitting listlessly
upon his horse, to which he abandoned the reins; he rode slowly along
beneath the warm May sun, in which the somber misanthropy of the exile
perceived a last insult to his grief.

CHAPTER 16. "Remember!"

A horseman was going rapidly along the road leading towards Blois, which
he had left nearly half an hour before, passed the two travelers, and,
though apparently in haste, raised his hat as he passed them. The king
scarcely observed this young man, who was about twenty-five years of
age, and who, turning round several times, made friendly signals to a
man standing before the gate of a handsome white-and-red house; that is
to say, built of brick and stone, with a slated roof, situated on the
left hand of the road the prince was traveling.

This man, old, tall, and thin, with white hair,--we speak of the one
standing by the gate;--this man replied to the farewell signals of the
young one by signs of parting as tender as could have been made by
a father, The young man disappeared at the first turn of the road,
bordered by fine trees, and the old man was preparing to return to the
house, when the two travelers, arriving in front of the gate, attracted
his attention.

The king, we have said, was riding with his head cast down, his arms
inert, leaving his horse to go what pace he liked, whilst Parr