ed."

"But you cannot have understood me. The million I asked of my brother
Louis was refused me."

"Sire," said Athos, "will your majesty grant me a few minutes, and
listen attentively to what remains for me to say to you?"

Charles II. looked earnestly at Athos. "Willingly, monsieur," said he.

"Then I will show your majesty the way," resumed the count, directing
his steps towards the house. He then conducted the king to his study,
and begged him to be seated. "Sire," said he, "your majesty just now
told me that, in the present state of England, a million would suffice
for the recovery of your kingdom."

"To attempt it at least, monsieur, and to die as a king if I should not
succeed."

"Well, then, sire, let your majesty, according to the promise you have
made me, have the goodness to listen to what I have to say." Charles
made an affirmative sign with his head. Athos walked straight up to the
door, the bolts of which he drew, after looking to see if anybody was
near, and then returned. "Sire," said he, "your majesty has kindly
remembered that I lent assistance to the very noble and very unfortunate
Charles I., when his executioners conducted him from St. James's to
Whitehall."

"Yes, certainly, I do remember it, and always shall remember it."

"Sire, it is a dismal history to be heard by a son who no doubt has
had it related to him many times; and yet I ought to repeat it to your
majesty without omitting one detail."

"Speak on, monsieur."

"When the king your father ascended the scaffold, or rather when he
passed from his chamber to the scaffold on a level with his window,
everything was prepared for his escape. The executioner was got out of
the way; a hole contrived under the floor of his apartment; I myself was
beneath the funeral vault, which I heard all at once creak beneath his
feet."

"Parry has related to me all these terrible details, monsieur."

Athos bowed, and resumed. "But here is something he has not related to
you, sire, for what follows passed between God, your father, and myself;
and never has the revelation of it been made even to my dearest friends.
'Go a little further off,' said the august patient to the executioner;
'it is but for an instant, and I know that I belong to you; but remember
not to strike till I give the signal. I wish to offer up my prayers in
freedom.'"

"Pardon me," said Charles II., turning very pale, "but you, count, who
know so many details of this melancholy