of them will weed the parliament in the name of the court,
and the other in the name of the people; and then there
won't be any parliament at all."
"And who is this Colonel Bridge?" asked Aramis, "and how
does he go to work to weed the parliament?"
"Colonel Bridge," replied the Spaniard, "is a retired
wagoner, a man of much sense, who made one valuable
observation whilst driving his team, namely, that where
there happened to be a stone on the road, it was much easier
to remove the stone than try and make the wheel pass over
it. Now, of two hundred and fifty-one members who composed
the parliament, there were one hundred and ninety-one who
were in the way and might have upset his political wagon. He
took them up, just as he formerly used to take up the stones
from the road, and threw them out of the house."
"Neat," remarked D'Artagnan. "Very!"
"And all these one hundred and ninety-one were Royalists?"
asked Athos.
"Without doubt, senor; and you understand that they would
have saved the king."
"To be sure," said Porthos, with majestic common sense;
"they were in the majority."
"And you think," said Aramis, "he will consent to appear
before such a tribunal?"
"He will be forced to do so," smiled the Spaniard.
"Now, Athos!" said D'Artagnan, "do you begin to believe that
it's a ruined cause, and that what with your Harrisons,
Joyces, Bridges and Cromwells, we shall never get the upper
hand?"
"The king will be delivered at the tribunal," said Athos;
"the very silence of his supporters indicates that they are
at work."
D'Artagnan shrugged his shoulders.
"But," said Aramis, "if they dare to condemn their king, it
can only be to exile or imprisonment."
D'Artagnan whistled a little air of incredulity.
"We shall see," said Athos, "for we shall go to the
sittings, I presume."
"You will not have long to wait," said the landlord; "they
begin to-morrow."
"So, then, they drew up the indictments before the king was
taken?"
"Of course," said D'Artagnan; "they began the day he was
sold."
"And you know," said Aramis, "that it was our friend
Mordaunt who made, if not the bargain, at least the
overtures."
"And you know," added D'Artagnan, "that whenever I catch him
I will kill him, this Mordaunt."
"And I, too," exclaimed Porthos.
"And I, too," added Aramis.
"Touching unanimity!" cried D'Artagnan, "which well becomes
good citizens like us. Let us take a turn around the town
and imbibe a little fog."
"Yes," said Porthos, "'twill be at least a little change
from beer."
63
The Trial.
The next morning King Charles I. was haled by a strong guard
before the high court which was to judge him. All London was
crowding to the doors of the house. The throng was terrific,
and it was not till after much pushing and some fighting
that our friends reached their destination. When they did so
they found the three lower rows of benches already occupied;
but being anxious not to be too conspicuous, all, with the
exception of Porthos, who had a fancy to display his red
doublet, were quite satisfied with their places, the more so
as chance had brought them to the centre of their row, so
that they were exactly opposite the arm-chair prepared for
the royal prisoner.
Toward eleven o'clock the king entered the hall, surrounded
by guards, but wearing his head covered, and with a calm
expression turned to every side with a look of complete
assurance, as if he were there to preside at an assembly of
submissive subjects, rather than to meet the accusations of
a rebel court.
The judges, proud of having a monarch to humiliate,
evidently prepared to enjoy the right they had arrogated to
themselves, and sent an officer to inform the king that it
was customary for the accused to uncover his head.
Charles, without replying a single word, turned his head in
another direction and pulled his felt hat over it. Then when
the officer was gone he sat down in the arm-chair opposite
the president and struck his boots with a little cane which
he carried in his hand. Parry, who accompanied him, stood
behind him.
D'Artagnan was looking at Athos, whose face betrayed all
those emotions which the king, possessing more self-control,
had banished from his own. This agitation in one so cold and
calm as Athos, frightened him.
"I hope," he whispered to him, "that you will follow his
majesty's example and not get killed for your folly in this
den."
"Set your mind at rest," replied Athos.
"Aha!" continued D'Artagnan, "it is clear that they are
afraid of something or other; for look, the sentinels are
being reinforced. They had only halberds before, now they
have muskets. The halberds were for the audience in the
rear; the muskets are for us."
"Thirty, forty, fifty, sixty-five men," said Porthos,
counting the reinforcements.
"Ah!" said Aramis, "but you forget the officer."
D'Artagnan grew pale with rage. He recognized Mordaunt, who
with bare sword was marshalling the musketeers behind the
king and opposite the benches.
"Do you think they have recognized us?" said D'Artagnan. "In
that case I should beat a retreat. I don't care to be shot
in a box."
"No," said Aramis, "he has not seen us. He sees no one but
the king. Mon Dieu! how he stares at him, the insolent dog!
Does he hate his majesty as much as he does us?"
"Pardi," answered Athos "we only carried off his mother; the
king has spoiled him of his name and property."
"True," said Aramis; "but silence! the president is speaking
to the king."
"Stuart," Bradshaw was saying, "listen to the roll call of
your judges and address to the court any observations you
may have to make."
The king turned his head away, as if these words had not
been intended for him. Bradshaw waited, and as there was no
reply there was a moment of silence.
Out of the hundred and sixty-three members designated there
were only seventy-three present, for the rest, fearful of
taking part in such an act, had remained away.
When the name of Colonel Fairfax was called, one of those
brief but solemn silences ensued, which announced the
absence of the members who had no wish to take a personal
part in the trial.
"Colonel Fairfax," repeated Bradshaw.
"Fairfax," answered a laughing voice, the silvery tone of
which betrayed it as that of a woman, "is not such a fool as
to be here."
A loud laugh followed these words, pronounced with that
boldness which women draw from their own weakness -- a
weakness which removes them beyond the power of vengeance.
"It is a woman's voice," cried Aramis; "faith, I would give
a good deal if she is young and pretty." And he mounted on
the bench to try and get a sight of her.
"By my soul," said Aramis, "she is charming. Look
D'Artagnan; everybody is looking at her; and in spite of
Bradshaw's gaze she has not turned pale."
"It is Lady Fairfax herself," said D'Artagnan. "Don't you
remember, Porthos, we saw her at General Cromwell's?"
The roll call continued.
"These rascals will adjourn when they find that they are not
in sufficient force," said the Comte de la Fere.
"You don't know them. Athos, look at Mordaunt's smile. Is
that the look of a man whose victim is likely to escape him?
Ah, cursed basilisk, it will be a happy day for me when I
can cross something more than a look with you."
"The king is really very handsome," said Porthos; "and look,
too, though he is a prisoner, how carefully he is dressed.
The feather in his hat is worth at least five-and-twenty
pistoles. Look at it, Aramis."
The roll call finished, the president ordered them to read
the act of accusation. Athos turned pale. A second time he
was disappointed in his expectation. Notwithstanding the
judges were so few the trial was to continue; the king then,
was condemned in advance.
"I told you so, Athos," said D'Artagnan, shrugging his
shoulders. "Now take your courage in both hands and hear
what this gentleman in black is going to say about his
sovereign, with full license and privilege."
Never till then had a more brutal accusation or meaner
insults tarnished kingly majesty.
Charles listened with marked attention, passing over the
insults, noting the grievances, and, when hatred overflowed
all bounds and the accuser turned executioner beforehand,
replying with a smile of lofty scorn.
"The fact is," said D'Artagnan, "if men are punished for
imprudence and triviality, this poor king deserves
punishment. But it seems to me that that which he is just
now undergoing is hard enough."
"In any case," Aramis replied, "the punishment should fall
not on the king, but on his ministers; for the first article
of the constitution is, `The king can do no wrong.'"
"As for me," thought Porthos, giving Mordaunt his whole
attention, "were it not for breaking in on the majesty of
the situation I would leap down from the bench, reach
Mordaunt in three bounds and strangle him; I would then take
him by the feet and knock the life out of these wretched
musketeers who parody the musketeers of France. Meantime,
D'Artagnan, who is full of invention, would find some way to
save the king. I must speak to him about it."
As to Athos, his face aflame, his fists clinched, his lips
bitten till they bled, he sat there foaming with rage at
that endless parliamentary insult and that long enduring
royal patience; the inflexible arm and steadfast heart had
given place to a trembling hand and a body shaken by
excitement.
At this moment the accuser concluded with these words: "The
present accusation is preferred by us in the name of the
English people."
At these words there was a murmur along the benches, and a
second voice, not that of a woman, but a man's, stout and
furious, thundered behind D'Artagnan.
"You lie!" it cried. "Nine-tenths of the English people are
horrified at what you say."
This voice was that of Athos, who, standing up with
outstretched hand and quite out of his mind, thus assailed
the public accuser.
King, judges, spectators, all turned their eyes to the bench
where the four friends were seated. Mordaunt did the same
and recognized the gentleman, around whom the three other
Frenchmen were standing, pale and menacing. His eyes
glittered with delight. He had discovered those to whose
death he had devoted his life. A movement of fury called to
his side some twenty of his musketeers, and pointing to the
bench where his enemies were: "Fire on that bench!" he
cried.
But with the rapidity of thought D'Artagnan seized Athos by
the waist, and followed by Porthos with Aramis, leaped down
from the benches, rushed into the passages, and flying down
the staircase were lost in the crowd without, while the
muskets within were pointed on some three thousand
spectators, whose piteous cries and noisy alarm stopped the
impulse already given to bloodshed.
Charles also had recognized the four Frenchmen. He put one
hand on his heart to still its beating and the other over
his eyes, that he might not witness the slaying of his
faithful friends.
Mordaunt, pale and trembling with anger, rushed from the
hall sword in hand, followed by six pikemen, pushing,
inquiring and panting in the crowd; and then, having found
nothing, returned.
The tumult was indescribable. More than half an hour passed
before any one could make himself heard. The judges were
looking for a new outbreak from the benches. The spectators
saw the muskets leveled at them, and divided between fear
and curiosity, remained noisy and excited.
Quiet was at length restored.
"What have you to say in your defense?" asked Bradshaw of
the king.
Then rising, with his head still covered, in the tone of a
judge rather than a prisoner, Charles began.
"Before questioning me," he said, "reply to my question. I
was free at Newcastle and had there concluded a treaty with
both houses. Instead of performing your part of this
contract, as I performed mine, you bought me from the
Scotch, cheaply, I know, and that does honor to the economic
talent of your government. But because you have paid the
price of a slave, do you imagine that I have ceased to be
your king? No. To answer you would be to forget it. I shall
only reply to you when you have satisfied me of your right
to question me. To answer you would be to acknowledge you as
my judges, and I only acknowledge you as my executioners."
And in the middle of a deathlike silence, Charles, calm,
lofty, and with his head still covered, sat down again in
his arm-chair.
"Why are not my Frenchmen here?" he murmured proudly and
turning his eyes to the benches where they had appeared for
a moment; "they would have seen that their friend was worthy
of their defense while alive, and of their tears when dead."
"Well," said the president, seeing that Charles was
determined to remain silent, "so be it. We will judge you in
spite of your silence. You are accused of treason, of abuse
of power, and murder. The evidence will support it. Go, and
another sitting will accomplish what you have postponed in
