my legs.”
Aramis again presented himself at the bishop’s. Juxon
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consented the more readily to take him with him, as he would
require an assistant priest in case the king should wish to
communicate. Dressed as Aramis had been the night before,
the bishop got into his carriage, and the former, more
disguised by his pallor and sad countenance than his
deacon’s dress, got in by his side. The carriage stopped at
the door of the palace.
It was about nine o’clock in the morning.
Nothing was changed. The ante-rooms were still full of
soldiers, the passages still lined by guards. The king was
already sanguine, but when he perceived Aramis his hope
turned to joy. He embraced Juxon and pressed the hand of
Aramis. The bishop affected to speak in a loud voice, before
every one, of their previous interview. The king replied
that the words spoken in that interview had borne their
fruit, and that he desired another under the same
conditions. Juxon turned to those present and begged them to
leave him and his assistant alone with the king. Every one
withdrew. As soon as the door was closed:
“Sire,” said Aramis, speaking rapidly, “you are saved; the
London executioner has vanished. His assistant broke his leg
last night beneath your majesty’s window — the cry we heard
was his — and there is no executioner nearer at hand than
Bristol.”
“But the Comte de la Fere?” asked the king.
“Two feet below you; take the poker from the fireplace and
strike three times on the floor. He will answer you.”
The king did so, and the moment after, three muffled knocks,
answering the given signal, sounded beneath the floor.
“So,” said Charles, “he who knocks down there —- ”
“Is the Comte de la Fere, sire,” said Aramis. “He is
preparing a way for your majesty to escape. Parry, for his
part, will raise this slab of marble and a passage will be
opened.”
“Oh, Juxon,” said the king, seizing the bishop’s two hands
in his own, “promise that you will pray all your life for
this gentleman and for the other that you hear beneath your
feet, and for two others also, who, wherever they may be,
are on the watch for my safety.”
“Sire,” replied Juxon, “you shall be obeyed.”
Meanwhile, the miner underneath was heard working away
incessantly, when suddenly an unexpected noise resounded in
the passage. Aramis seized the poker and gave the signal to
stop; the noise came nearer and nearer. It was that of a
number of men steadily approaching. The four men stood
motionless. All eyes were fixed on the door, which opened
slowly and with a kind of solemnity.
A parliamentary officer, clothed in black and with a gravity
that augured ill, entered, bowed to the king, and unfolding
a parchment, read the sentence, as is usually done to
criminals before their execution.
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“What is this?” said Aramis to Juxon.
Juxon replied with a sign which meant that he knew no more
than Aramis about it.
“Then it is for to-day?” asked the king.
“Was not your majesty warned that it was to take place this
morning?”
“Then I must die like a common criminal by the hand of the
London executioner?”
“The London executioner has disappeared, your majesty, but a
man has offered his services instead. The execution will
therefore only be delayed long enough for you to arrange
your spiritual and temporal affairs.”
A slight moisture on his brow was the only trace of emotion
that Charles evinced, as he learned these tidings. But
Aramis was livid. His heart ceased beating, he closed his
eyes and leaned upon the table. Charles perceived it and
took his hand.
“Come, my friend,” said he, “courage.” Then he turned to the
officer. “Sir, I am ready. There is but little reason why I
should delay you. Firstly, I wish to communicate; secondly,
to embrace my children and bid them farewell for the last
time. Will this be permitted me?”
“Certainly,” replied the officer, and left the room.
Aramis dug his nails into his flesh and groaned aloud.