Ten Years Later by Dumas, Alexandre. Part one

the painful avowal that Louis had to make to him, —

“Whatever it may be,” said he, “I shall never forget all the

kindness, all the friendship you have exhibited towards me.”

“Alas!” replied Louis, in a melancholy tone, “only barren

good-will, my brother.”

Charles II. became extremely pale; he passed his cold hand

over his brow, and struggled for a few instants against a

faintness that made him tremble. “I understand,” said he at

last; “no more hope!”

Louis seized the hand of Charles II. “Wait, my brother,”

said he; “precipitate nothing, everything may change; hasty

resolutions ruin all causes, add another year of trial, I

implore you, to the years you have already undergone. You

have, to induce you to act now rather than at another time,

neither occasion nor opportunity. Come with me, my brother;

I will give you one of my residences, whichever you prefer,

to inhabit. I, with you, will keep my eyes upon events; we

will prepare. Come, then, my brother, have courage!”

Charles II. withdrew his hand from that of the king, and

drawing back, to salute him with more ceremony, “With all my

heart, thanks!” replied he, “sire; but I have prayed without

success to the greatest king on earth; now I will go and ask

a miracle of God.” And he went out without being willing to

hear any more, his head carried loftily, his hand trembling,

with a painful contraction of his noble countenance, and

that profound gloom which, finding no more hope in the world

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Dumas, Alexandre – Ten Years Later

of men, appeared to go beyond it, and ask it in worlds

unknown. The officer of musketeers, on seeing him pass by

thus pale, bowed almost to his knees as he saluted him. He

then took a flambeau, called two musketeers, and descended

the deserted staircase with the unfortunate king, holding in

his left hand his hat, the plume of which swept the steps.

Arrived at the door, the musketeer asked the king which way

he was going, that he might direct the musketeers.

“Monsieur,” replied Charles II., in a subdued voice, “you

who have known my father, say, did you ever pray for him? If

you have done so, do not forget me in your prayers. Now, I

am going alone, and beg of you not to accompany me, or have

me accompanied any further.”

The officer bowed and sent away the musketeers into the

interior of the palace. But he himself remained an instant

under the porch watching the departing Charles II., till he

was lost in the turn of the next street. “To him as to his

father formerly,” murmured he, “Athos, if he were here,

would say with reason, — `Salute fallen majesty!'” Then,

reascending the staircase: “Oh! the vile service that I

follow!” said he at every step. “Oh! my pitiful master! Life

thus carried on is no longer tolerable, and it is at length

time that I should do something! No more generosity, no more

energy! The master has succeeded, the pupil is starved

forever. Mordioux! I will not resist. Come, you men,”

continued he, entering the ante-chamber, “why are you all

looking at me so? Extinguish these torches and return to

your posts. Ah! you were guarding me? Yes, you watch over

me, do you not, worthy fellows? Brave fools! I am not the

Duc de Guise. Begone! They will not assassinate me in the

little passage. Besides,” added he, in a low voice, “that

would be a resolution, and no resolutions have been formed

since Monsieur le Cardinal de Richelieu died. Now, with all

his faults, that was a man! It is settled: to-morrow I will

throw my cassock to the nettles.”

Then, reflecting: “No,” said he, “not yet! I have one great

trial to make and I will make it; but that, and I swear it,

shall be the last, Mordioux!”

He had not finished speaking when a voice issued from the

king’s chamber. “Monsieur le lieutenant!” said this voice.

“Here am I,” replied he.

“The king desires to speak to you.”

“Humph!” said the lieutenant; “perhaps of what I was

thinking about.” And he went into the king’s apartment.

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