He
bowed respectfully to the young prince, and said:--

"Forgive me, monseigneur; I am only a soldier, and my faith is due to
him who has left us."

"Thank you, M. D'Artagnan. But what has become of M. D'Herblay?"

"M. D'Herblay is safe, monseigneur," answered a voice behind them;
"and while I am alive and free, not a hair of his head shall be hurt."

"M. Fouquet!" said the prince, smiling sadly.

"Forgive me, monseigneur," cried Fouquet, falling on his knees; "but
he who has left the room was my guest."

"Ah!" murmured Philippe to himself with a sigh, "you are loyal friends
and true hearts. You make me regret the world I am leaving. M.
D'Artagnan, I will follow you."

As he spoke, Colbert entered and handed to the captain of the
musketeers an order from the King; then bowed, and went out.

D'Artagnan glanced at the paper, and in a sudden burst of wrath
crumpled it in his hand.

"What is the matter?" asked the prince.

"Read it, monseigneur," answered the musketeer.

And Philippe read these words, written hastily by the King himself:--

"M. D'Artagnan will conduct the prisoner to the Iles
Sainte-Marguerite. He will see that his face is covered with an iron
mask, which must never be lifted on pain of death."

"It is just," said Philippe; "I am ready."

"Aramis was right," whispered Fouquet to D'Artagnan, "this is as good
a king as the other."

"Better," replied D'Artagnan; "he only needed you and me."

A TRICK IS PLAYED ON HENRY III. BY AID OF CHICOT

From 'The Lady of Monsoreau'

The King and Chicot remained quiet and silent for the next ten
minutes. Then suddenly the King sat up, and the noise he made roused
Chicot, who was just dropping off to sleep.

The two looked at each other with sparkling eyes.

"What is it?" asked Chicot in a low voice.

"Do you hear that sighing sound?" replied the King in a lower voice
still. "Listen!"

As he spoke, one of the wax candles in the hand of the golden satyr
went out; then a second, then a third. After a moment, the fourth went
out also.

"Oh, oh!" cried Chicot, "that is more than a sighing sound." But he
had hardly uttered the last word when in its turn the lamp was
extinguished, and the room was in darkness, save for the flickering
glow of the dying embers.

"Look out!" exclaimed Chicot, jumping up.

"He is going to speak," said the King, shrinking back into his bed.

"Then listen and let us hear what he says," replied Chicot, and at the