apprehension of being disarmed, before an armed foe; then,
whilst he fires, make your horse rear; that manoeuvre has
saved my life several times.”
“I shall do so, if only in gratitude —- ”
“Eh!” cried Athos, “are not those fellows poachers they have
arrested yonder? They are. Then another important thing,
Raoul: should you be wounded in a battle, and fall from your
horse, if you have any strength left, disentangle yourself
from the line that your regiment has formed; otherwise, it
may be driven back and you will be trampled to death by the
horses. At all events, should you be wounded, write to me
that very instant, or get some one at once to write to me.
We are judges of wounds, we old soldiers,” Athos added,
smiling.
“Thank you, sir,” answered the young man, much moved.
They arrived that very moment at the gate of the town,
guarded by two sentinels.
“Here comes a young gentleman,” said one of them, “who seems
as if he were going to join the army.”
“How do you make that out?” inquired Athos.
“By his manner, sir, and his age; he’s the second to-day.”
“Has a young man, such as I am, gone through this morning,
then?” asked Raoul.
“Faith, yes, with a haughty presence, a fine equipage; such
as the son of a noble house would have.”
“He will be my companion on the journey, sir,” cried Raoul.
“Alas! he cannot make me forget what I shall have lost!”
Thus talking, they traversed the streets, full of people on
account of the fete, and arrived opposite the old cathedral,
where first mass was going on.
“Let us alight; Raoul,” said Athos. “Olivain, take care of
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our horses and give me my sword.”
The two gentlemen then went into the church. Athos gave
Raoul some of the holy water. A love as tender as that of a
lover for his mistress dwells, undoubtedly, in some paternal
hearts toward a son.
Athos said a word to one of the vergers, who bowed and
proceeded toward the basement.
“Come, Raoul,” he said, “let us follow this man.”
The verger opened the iron grating that guarded the royal
tombs and stood on the topmost step, whilst Athos and Raoul
descended. The sepulchral depths of the descent were dimly
lighted by a silver lamp on the lowest step; and just below
this lamp there was laid, wrapped in a flowing mantle of
violet velvet, worked with fleurs-de-lis of gold, a
catafalque resting on trestles of oak. The young man,
prepared for this scene by the state of his own feelings,
which were mournful, and by the majesty of the cathedral
which he had passed through, descended in a slow and solemn
manner and stood with head uncovered before these mortal
spoils of the last king, who was not to be placed by the
side of his forefathers until his successor should take his
place there; and who appeared to abide on that spot, that he
might thus address human pride, so sure to be exalted by the
glories of a throne: “Dust of the earth! Here I await thee!”
There was profound silence.
Then Athos raised his hand and pointing to the coffin:
“This temporary sepulture is,” he said, “that of a man who
was of feeble mind, yet one whose reign was full of great
events; because over this king watched the spirit of another
man, even as this lamp keeps vigil over this coffin and
illumines it. He whose intellect was thus supreme, Raoul,
was the actual sovereign; the other, nothing but a phantom
to whom he lent a soul; and yet, so powerful is majesty
amongst us, this man has not even the honor of a tomb at the
feet of him in whose service his life was worn away.
Remember, Raoul, this! If Richelieu made the king, by
comparison, seem small, he made royalty great. The Palace of
the Louvre contains two things — the king, who must die,
and royalty, which never dies. The minister, so feared, so
hated by his master, has descended into the tomb, drawing
after him the king, whom he would not leave alone on earth,