Ten Years Later - Dumas Alexandre

Скачать книгу

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 event, – details which, as you said just now, have never been revealed to anyone, – do you know the name of that infernal executioner, of that base wretch who concealed his face that he might assassinate a king with impunity?"

      Athos became slightly pale. "His name?" said he, "yes, I know it, but cannot tell it."

      "And what is become of him, for nobody in England knows his destiny?"

      "He is dead."

      "But he did not die in his bed; he did not die a calm and peaceful death, he did not die the death of the good?"

      "He died a violent death, in a terrible night, rendered so by the passions of man and a tempest from God. His body, pierced by a dagger, sank to the depths of the ocean. God pardon his murderer!"

      "Proceed, then," said Charles II., seeing that the count was unwilling to say more.

      "The king of England, after having, as I have said, spoken thus to the masked executioner, added, – 'Observe, you will not strike till I shall stretch out my arms saying – REMEMBER!'"

      "I was aware," said Charles, in an agitated voice, "that that was the last word pronounced by my unfortunate father. But why and for whom?"

      "For the French gentleman placed beneath his scaffold."

      "For you, then, monsieur?"

      "Yes, sire; and every one of the words which he spoke to me, through the planks of the scaffold covered with a black cloth, still sounds in my ears. The king knelt down on one knee: 'Comte de la Fere,' said he, 'are you there?' 'Yes, sire,' replied I. Then the king stooped towards the boards."

      Charles II., also palpitating with interest, burning with grief, stooped towards Athos, to catch, one by one, every word that escaped from him. His head touched that of the comte.

      "Then," continued Athos, "the king stooped. 'Comte de la Fere,' said he, 'I could not be saved by you: it was not to be. Now, even though I commit a sacrilege, I must speak to you. Yes, I have spoken to men – yes, I have spoken to God, and I speak to you the last. To sustain a cause which I thought sacred, I have lost the throne of my fathers and the heritage of my children.'"

      Charles II. concealed his face in his hands, and a bitter tear glided between his white and slender fingers.

      "'I have still a million in gold,' continued the king. 'I buried it in the vaults of the castle of Newcastle, a moment before I left that city.'" Charles raised his head with an expression of such painful joy that it would have drawn tears from any one acquainted with his misfortunes.

      "A million!" murmured he. "Oh, count!"

      "'You alone know that this money exists: employ it when you think it can be of the greatest service to my eldest son. And now, Comte de la Fere, bid me adieu!'

      "'Adieu, adieu, sire!' cried I."

      Charles arose, and went and leant his burning brow against the window.

      "It was then," continued Athos, "that the king pronounced the word, 'REMEMBER!' addressed to me. You see, sire, that I have remembered."

      The king could not resist or conceal his emotion. Athos beheld the movement of his shoulders, which undulated convulsively; he heard the sobs which burst from his overcharged breast. He was silent himself, suffocated by the flood of bitter remembrances he had just poured upon that royal head. Charles II., with a violent effort, left the window, devoured his tears, and came and sat by Athos. "Sire," said the latter, "I thought till to-day that the time had not yet arrived for the employment of that last resource; but, with my eyes fixed upon England, I felt it was approaching. To-morrow I meant to go and inquire in what part of the world your majesty was, and then I purposed going to you. You come to me, sire; that is an indication that God is with us."

      "My lord," said Charles, in a voice choked by emotion, "you are, for me, what an angel sent from heaven would be, – you are a preserver sent to me from the tomb of my father himself; but, believe me, for ten years' civil war has passed over my country, striking down men, tearing up the soil, it is no more probable that gold should remain in the entrails of the earth, than love in the hearts of my subjects."

      "Sire, the spot in which his majesty buried the million is well known to me, and no one, I am sure, has been able to discover it. Besides, is the castle of Newcastle quite destroyed? Have they demolished it stone by stone, and uprooted the soil to the last tree?"

      "No, it is still standing: but at this moment General Monk occupies it and is encamped there. The only spot from which I could look for succor, where I possess a single resource, you see, is invaded by my enemies."

      "General Monk, sire, cannot have discovered the treasure which I speak of."

      "Yes, but can I go and deliver myself up to Monk, in order to recover this treasure? Ah! count, you see plainly I must yield to destiny, since it strikes me to the earth every time I rise. What can I do with Parry as my only servant, with Parry, whom Monk has already driven from his presence? No, no, no, count, we must yield to this last blow."

      "But what your majesty cannot do, and what Parry can no more attempt, do you not believe that I could succeed in accomplishing?"

      "You – you, count – you would go?"

      "If it please your majesty," said Athos, bowing to the king, "yes, I will go, sire."

      "What! you so happy here, count?"

      "I am never happy when I have a duty left to accomplish, and it is an imperative duty which the king your father left me to watch over your fortunes, and make a royal use of his money. So, if your majesty honors me with a sign, I will go with you."

      "Ah, monsieur!" said the king, forgetting all royal etiquette, and throwing his arms around the neck of Athos, "you prove to me that there is a God in heaven, and that this God sometimes sends messengers to the unfortunate who groan on the earth."

      Athos, exceedingly moved by this burst of feeling of the young man, thanked him with profound respect, and approached the window. "Grimaud!" cried he, "bring out my horses."

      "What, now – immediately!" said the king. "Ah, monsieur, you are indeed a wonderful man!"

      "Sire," said Athos, "I know nothing more pressing than your majesty's service. Besides," added he, smiling, "it is a habit contracted long since, in the service of the queen your aunt, and of the king your father. How is it possible for me to lose it at

Скачать книгу