separate them across the neck.”
The king parted his hair with his hands, and looking at the
block he said:
“This block is very low, is there no other to be had?”
“It is the usual block,” answered the man in the mask.
“Do you think you can behead me with a single blow?” asked
the king.
“I hope so,” was the reply. There was something so strange
in these three words that everybody, except the king,
shuddered.
“I do not wish to be taken by surprise,” added the king. “I
shall kneel down to pray; do not strike then.”
“When shall I strike?”
“When I shall lay my head on the block and say `Remember!’
then strike boldly.”
“Gentlemen,” said the king to those around him, “I leave you
to brave the tempest; I go before you to a kingdom which
knows no storms. Farewell.”
He looked at Aramis and made a special sign to him with his
head.
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Dumas, Alexandre – Twenty Years After
“Now,” he continued, “withdraw a little and let me say my
prayer, I beseech you. You, also, stand aside,” he said to
the masked man. “It is only for a moment and I know that I
belong to you; but remember that you are not to strike till
I give the signal.”
Then he knelt down, made the sign of the cross, and lowering
his face to the planks, as if he would have kissed them,
said in a low tone, in French, “Comte de la Fere, are you
there?”
“Yes, your majesty,” he answered, trembling.
“Faithful friend, noble heart!” said the king, “I should not
have been rescued. I have addressed my people and I have
spoken to God; last of all I speak to you. To maintain a
cause which I believed sacred I have lost the throne and my
children their inheritance. A million in gold remains; it is
buried in the cellars of Newcastle Keep. You only know that
this money exists. Make use of it, then, whenever you think
it will be most useful, for my eldest son’s welfare. And
now, farewell.”
“Farewell, saintly, martyred majesty,” lisped Athos, chilled
with terror.
A moment’s silence ensued and then, in a full, sonorous
voice, the king exclaimed: “Remember!”
He had scarcely uttered the word when a heavy blow shook the
scaffold and where Athos stood immovable a warm drop fell
upon his brow. He reeled back with a shudder and the same
moment the drops became a crimson cataract.
Athos fell on his knees and remained some minutes as if
bewildered or stunned. At last he rose and taking his
handkerchief steeped it in the blood of the martyred king.
Then as the crowd gradually dispersed he leaped down, crept
from behind the drapery, glided between two horses, mingled
with the crowd and was the first to arrive at the inn.
Having gained his room he raised his hand to his face, and
observing that his fingers were covered with the monarch’s
blood, fell down insensible.
67
The Man in the Mask.
The snow was falling thick and icy. Aramis was the next to
come in and to discover Athos almost insensible. But at the
first words he uttered the comte roused himself from the
kind of lethargy in which he had sunk.
“Well,” said Aramis, “beaten by fate!”
“Beaten!” said Athos. “Noble and unhappy king!”
“Are you wounded?” cried Aramis.
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Dumas, Alexandre – Twenty Years After
“No, this is his blood.”
“Where were you, then?”
“Where you left me — under the scaffold.”
“Did you see it all?”
“No, but I heard all. God preserve me from another such hour
as I have just passed.”
“Then you know that I did not leave him?”
“I heard your voice up to the last moment.”
“Here is the order he gave me and the cross I took from his
hand; he desired they should be returned to the queen.”
“Then here is a handkerchief to wrap them in,” replied
Athos, drawing from his pocket the one he had steeped in the
king’s blood.
“And what,” he continued, “has been done with the poor
body?”
“By order of Cromwell royal honors will be accorded to it.
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