Ten Years Later

by Alexandre Dumas

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

  This man, old, tall, and thin, with white hair,--we speak of the onestanding by the gate;--this man replied to the farewell signals of theyoung one by signs of parting as tender as could have been made bya 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 thehouse, when the two travelers, arriving in front of the gate, attractedhis attention.

  The king, we have said, was riding with his head cast down, his armsinert, leaving his horse to go what pace he liked, whilst Parry, behindhim, the better to imbibe the genial influence of the sun, had takenoff his hat, and was looking about right and left. His eyes encounteredthose of the old man leaning against the gate; the latter, as if struckby some strange spectacle, uttered an exclamation, and made one steptowards the two travelers. From Parry his eyes immediately turnedtowards the king, upon whom they rested for an instant. Thisexclamation, however rapid, was instantly reflected in a visible mannerupon the features of the tall old man. For scarcely had he recognizedthe younger of the travelers--and we say recognized, for nothing but aperfect recognition could have explained such an act--scarcely, we say,had he recognized the younger of the two travelers, than he clapped hishands together, with respectful surprise, and, raising his hat from hishead, bowed so profoundly that it might have been said he was kneeling.This demonstration, however absent, or rather, however absorbed was theking in his reflections, attracted his attention instantly; and checkinghis horse and turning towards Parry, he exclaimed, "Good God, Parry,who is that man who salutes me in such a marked manner? Can he know me,think you?"

  Parry, much agitated and very pale, had already turned his horse towardsthe gate. "Ah, sire!" said he, stopping suddenly at five of sixpaces' distance from the still bending man: "sire, I am seized withastonishment, for I think I recognize that brave man. Yes, it must behe! Will your majesty permit me to speak to him?"

  "Certainly."

  "Can it be you, Monsieur Grimaud?" asked Parry.

  "Yes, it is I," replied the tall old man, drawing himself up, butwithout losing his respectful demeanor.

  "Sire," then said Parry, "I was not deceived. This good man is theservant of the Comte de la Fere, and the Comte de la Fere, if youremember, is the worthy gentleman of whom I have so often spoken to yourmajesty that the remembrance of him must remain, not only in your mind,but in your heart."

  "He who assisted my father at his last moments?" asked Charles,evidently affected at the remembrance.

  "The same, sire."

  "Alas!" said Charles; and then addressing Grimaud, whose penetrating andintelligent eyes seemed to search and divine his thoughts,--"My friend,"said he, "does your master, Monsieur le Comte de la Fere, live in thisneighborhood?"

  "There," replied Grimaud, pointing with his outstretched arm to thewhite-and-red house behind the gate.

  "And is Monsieur le Comte de la Fere at home at present?"

  "At the back, under the chestnut trees."

  "Parry," said the king, "I will not miss this opportunity, so preciousfor me, to thank the gentleman to whom our house is indebted for such anoble example of devotedness and generosity. Hold my horse, my friend,if you please." And, throwing the bridle to Grimaud, the king enteredthe abode of Athos, quite alone, as one equal enters the dwellingof another. Charles had been informed by the concise explanation ofGrimaud,--"At the back, under the chestnut trees;" he left, therefore,the house on the left, and went straight down the path indicated. Thething was easy; the tops of those noble trees, already covered withleaves and flowers, rose above all the rest.

  On arriving under the lozenges, by turns luminous and dark, whichcheckered the ground of this path according as the trees were more orless in leaf, the young prince perceived a gentleman walking with hisarms behind him, apparently plunged in a deep meditation. Withoutdoubt, he had often had this gentleman described to him, for, withouthesitating, Charles II. walked straight up to him. At the sound of hisfootsteps, the Comte de la Fere raised his head, and seeing an unknownman of noble and elegant carriage coming towards him, he raised his hatand waited. At some paces from him, Charles II. likewise took off hishat. Then, as if in reply to the comte's mute interrogation,--

  "Monsieur le Comte," said he, "I come to discharge a duty towards you.I have, for a long time, had the expression of a profound gratitudeto bring you. I am Charles II., son of Charles Stuart, who reigned inEngland, and died on the scaffold."

  On hearing this illustrious name, Athos felt a kind of shudder creepthrough his veins, but at the sight of the young prince standinguncovered before him, and stretching out his hand towards him, twotears, for an instant, dimmed his brilliant eyes. He bent respectfully,but the prince took him by the hand.

  "See how unfortunate I am, my lord count; it is only due to chance thatI have met with you. Alas! I ought to have people around me whom I loveand honor, whereas I am reduced to preserve their services in my heart,and their names in my memory: so that if your servant had not recognizedmine, I should have passed by your door as by that of a stranger."

  "It is but too true," said Athos, replying with his voice to the firstpart of the king's speech, and with a bow to the second; "it is but tootrue, indeed, that your majesty has seen many evil days."

  "And the worst, alas!" replied Charles, "are perhaps still to come."

  "Sire, let us hope."

  "Count, count," continued Charles, shaking his head, "I entertained hopetill last night, and that of a good Christian, I swear."

  Athos looked at the king as if to interrogate him.

  "Oh, the history is soon related," said Charles. "Proscribed, despoiled,disdained, I resolved, in spite of all my repugnance, to tempt fortuneone last time. Is it not written above, that, for our family, all goodfortune and all bad fortune shall eternally come from France? You knowsomething of that, monsieur,--you, who are one of the Frenchmen whom myunfortunate father found at the foot of his scaffold, on the day of hisdeath, after having found them at his right hand on the day of battle."

  "Sire," said Athos modestly, "I was not alone. My companions and I did,under the circumstances, our duty as gentlemen, and that was all. Yourmajesty was about to do me the honor to relate----"

  "That is true. I had the protection,--pardon my hesitation, count, but,for a Stuart, you, who understand everything, you will comprehend thatthe word is hard to pronounce;--I had, I say, the protection of mycousin the stadtholder of Holland; but without the intervention, or atleast without the authorization of France, the stadtholder would nottake the initiative. I came, then, to ask this authorization of the kingof France, who has refused me."

  "The king has refused you, sire!"

  "Oh, not he; all justice must be rendered to my younger brother Louis;but Monsieur de Mazarin----"

  Athos bit his lips.

  "You perhaps think I should have expected this refusal?" said the king,who had noticed the movement.

  "That was, in truth, my thought, sire," replied Athos, respectfully, "Iknow that Italian of old."

  "Then I determined to come to the test, and know at once the last wordof my destiny. I told my brother Louis, that, not to compromise eitherFrance or Holland, I would tempt fortune myself in person, as I hadalready done, with two hundred gentlemen, if he would give them to me,and a million, if he would lend it me."

  "Well, sire?"

  "Well, monsieur, I am suffering at this moment something strange, andthat is, the satisfaction of despair. There is in certain souls,--and Ihave just discovered that mine is o
f the number,--a real satisfaction inthe assurance that all is lost, and the time is come to yield."

  "Oh, I hope," said Athos, "that your majesty is not come to thatextremity."

  "To say so, my lord count, to endeavor to revive hope in my heart, youmust have ill understood what I have just told you. I came to Bloisto ask of my brother Louis the alms of a million, with which I had thehopes of re-establishing my affairs; and my brother Louis has refusedme. You see, then, plainly, that all is lost."

  "Will your majesty permit me to express a contrary opinion?"

  "How is that, count? Do you think my heart of so low an order that I donot know how to face my position?"

  "Sire, I have always seen that it was in desperate positions thatsuddenly the great turns of fortune have taken place."

  "Thank you, count, it is some comfort to meet with a heart like yours,that is to say, sufficiently trustful in God and in monarchy, never todespair of a royal fortune, however low it may be fallen. Unfortunately,my dear count, your words are like those remedies they call 'sovereign,'and which, though able to cure curable wounds or diseases, fail againstdeath. Thank you for your perseverance in consoling me, count, thanksfor your devoted remembrance, but I know in what I must trust--nothingwill save me now. And see, my friend, I was so convinced, that I wastaking the route of exile with my old Parry; I was returning to devourmy poignant griefs in the little hermitage offered me by Holland. There,believe me, count, all will soon be over, and death will come quickly,it is called so often by this body, eaten up by its soul, and by thissoul, which aspires to heaven."

  "Your majesty has a mother, a sister, and brothers; your majesty is thehead of the family, and ought, therefore, to ask a long life of God,instead of imploring Him for a prompt death. Your majesty is an exile,a fugitive, but you have right on your side; you ought to aspire tocombats, dangers, business, and not to rest in heavens."

  "Count," said Charles II., with a smile of indescribable sadness, "haveyou ever heard of a king who reconquered his kingdom with one servantof the age of Parry, and with three hundred crowns which that servantcarried in his purse?"

  "No, sire; but I have heard--and that more than once--that a dethronedking has recovered his kingdom with a firm will, perseverance, somefriends, and a million skillfully employed."

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

  "Sire," said Athos, "will your majesty grant me a few minutes, andlisten 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, directinghis steps towards the house. He then conducted the king to his study,and begged him to be seated. "Sire," said he, "your majesty just nowtold me that, in the present state of England, a million would sufficefor the recovery of your kingdom."

  "To attempt it at least, monsieur, and to die as a king if I should notsucceed."

  "Well, then, sire, let your majesty, according to the promise you havemade me, have the goodness to listen to what I have to say." Charlesmade an affirmative sign with his head. Athos walked straight up to thedoor, the bolts of which he drew, after looking to see if anybody wasnear, and then returned. "Sire," said he, "your majesty has kindlyremembered that I lent assistance to the very noble and very unfortunateCharles I., when his executioners conducted him from St. James's toWhitehall."

  "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 hashad it related to him many times; and yet I ought to repeat it to yourmajesty without omitting one detail."

  "Speak on, monsieur."

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

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

  Athos bowed, and resumed. "But here is something he has not related toyou, 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 remembernot to strike till I give the signal. I wish to offer up my prayers infreedom.'"

  "Pardon me," said Charles II., turning very pale, "but you, count, whoknow so many details of this melancholy event,--details which, as yousaid just now, have never been revealed to anyone,--do you know the nameof that infernal executioner, of that base wretch who concealed his facethat he might assassinate a king with impunity?"

  Athos became slightly pale. "His name?" said he, "yes, I know it, butcannot 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 peacefuldeath, he did not die the death of the good?"

  "He died a violent death, in a terrible night, rendered so by thepassions 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 unwillingto say more.

  "The king of England, after having, as I have said, spoken thus to themasked executioner, added,--'Observe, you will not strike till I shallstretch out my arms saying--REMEMBER!'"

  "I was aware," said Charles, in an agitated voice, "that that was thelast 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 theplanks of the scaffold covered with a black cloth, still sounds in myears. The king knelt down on one knee: 'Comte de la Fere,' said he, 'areyou there?' 'Yes, sire,' replied I. Then the king stooped towards theboards."

  Charles II., also palpitating with interest, burning with grief, stoopedtowards 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,' saidhe, 'I could not be saved by you: it was not to be. Now, even though Icommit 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 causewhich I thought sacred, I have lost the throne of my fathers and theheritage of my children.'"

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

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

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

  "'You alone know that this money exists: employ it when you think it canbe 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 themovement of his shoulders, which undulated convulsively; he heard thesobs which burst from his overcharged breast. He was silent himself,suffocated by the flood of bitter remembrances he had just poured uponthat 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 theemployment 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 whatpart 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 tome 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 thesoil, it is no more probable that gold should remain in the entrails ofthe earth, than love in the hearts of my subjects."

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

  "No, it is still standing: but at this moment General Monk occupies itand 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 speakof."

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

  "But what your majesty cannot do, and what Parry can no more attempt, doyou 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, Iwill go, sire."

  "What! you so happy here, count?"

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

  "Ah, monsieur!" said the king, forgetting all royal etiquette, andthrowing his arms around the neck of Athos, "you prove to me that thereis a God in heaven, and that this God sometimes sends messengers to theunfortunate 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 awonderful man!"

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

  "What a man!" murmured the king.

  Then after a moment's reflection,--"But no, count, I cannot expose youto such privations. I have no means of rewarding such services."

  "Bah!" said Athos, laughing. "Your majesty is joking, have you not amillion? Ah! why am I not possessed of half such a sum! I would alreadyhave raised a regiment. But, thank God! I have still a few rolls of goldand some family diamonds left. Your majesty will, I hope, deign to sharewith a devoted servant."

  "With a friend--yes, count, but on condition that, in his turn, thatfriend will share with me hereafter!"

  "Sire!" said Athos, opening a casket, from which he drew both gold andjewels, "you see, sire, we are too rich. Fortunately, there are four ofus, in the event of our meeting with thieves."

  Joy made the blood rush to the pale cheeks of Charles II., as he sawAthos's two horses, led by Grimaud, already booted for the journey,advance towards the porch.

  "Blaisois, this letter for the Vicomte de Bragelonne. For everybodyelse I am gone to Paris. I confide the house to you, Blaisois." Blaisoisbowed, shook hands with Grimaud, and shut the gate.

  CHAPTER 17. In which Aramis is sought and only Bazin is found