,
unhappy prisoner, worn out by prison cares, emaciated by the stifling
air of the Bastile. It was the picture, it will be remembered, drawn
by Aramis, when he offered the thousand pistoles he had with him in
the carriage to the prince, and the enchanted Eden which the deserts of
Bas-Poitou hid from the eyes of the world. Such were the reflections of
Aramis as he watched, with an anxiety impossible to describe, the
silent progress of the emotions of Philippe, whom he perceived gradually
becoming more and more absorbed in his meditations. The young prince was
offering up an inward prayer to Heaven, to be divinely guided in this
trying moment, upon which his life or death depended. It was an anxious
time for the bishop of Vannes, who had never before been so perplexed.
His iron will, accustomed to overcome all obstacles, never finding
itself inferior or vanquished on any occasion, to be foiled in so vast a
project from not having foreseen the influence which a view of nature in
all its luxuriance would have on the human mind! Aramis, overwhelmed by
anxiety, contemplated with emotion the painful struggle that was taking
place in Philippe's mind. This suspense lasted the whole ten minutes
which the young man had requested. During this space of time, which
appeared an eternity, Philippe continued gazing with an imploring and
sorrowful look towards the heavens; Aramis did not remove the piercing
glance he had fixed on Philippe. Suddenly the young man bowed his head.
His thought returned to the earth, his looks perceptibly hardened, his
brow contracted, his mouth assuming an expression of undaunted courage;
again his looks became fixed, but this time they wore a worldly
expression, hardened by covetousness, pride, and strong desire. Aramis's
look immediately became as soft as it had before been gloomy. Philippe,
seizing his hand in a quick, agitated manner, exclaimed:

"Lead me to where the crown of France is to be found."

"Is this your decision, monseigneur?" asked Aramis.

"It is."

"Irrevocably so?"

Philippe did not even deign to reply. He gazed earnestly at the bishop,
as if to ask him if it were possible for a man to waver after having
once made up his mind.

"Such looks are flashes of the hidden fire that betrays men's
character," said Aramis, bowing over Philippe's hand; "you will be
great, monseigneur, I will answer for that."

"Let us resume our conversation. I wished to discuss two points with
you; in the