resist. I am condemned; leave me to my death."
"My king," said Aramis, "they well may raise a scaffold, but
they cannot make an executioner."
"What do you mean?" asked the king.
"I mean that at this hour the headsman has been got out of
the way by force or persuasion. The scaffold will be ready
by to-morrow, but the headsman will be wanting and they will
put it off till the day after to-morrow."
"What then?" said the king.
"To-morrow night we shall rescue you."
"How can that be?" cried the king, whose face was lighted
up, in spite of himself, by a flash of joy.
"Oh! sir," cried Parry, "may you and yours be blessed!"
"How can it be?" repeated the king. "I must know, so that I
may assist you if there is any chance."
"I know nothing about it," continued Aramis, "but the
cleverest, the bravest, the most devoted of us four said to
me when I left him, `Tell the king that to-morrow at ten
o'clock at night, we shall carry him off.' He has said it
and will do it."
"Tell me the name of that generous friend," said the king,
"that I may cherish for him an eternal gratitude, whether he
succeeds or not."
"D'Artagnan, sire, the same who had so nearly rescued you
when Colonel Harrison made his untimely entrance."
"You are, indeed, wonderful men," said the king; "if such
things had been related to me I should not have believed
them."
"Now, sire," resumed Aramis, "listen to me. Do not forget
for a single instant that we are watching over your safety;
observe the smallest gesture, the least bit of song, the
least sign from any one near you; watch everything, hear
everything, interpret everything."
"Oh, chevalier!" cried the king, "what can I say to you?
There is no word, though it should come from the profoundest
depth of my heart, that can express my gratitude. If you
succeed I do not say that you will save a king; no, in
presence of the scaffold as I am, royalty, I assure you, is
a very small affair; but you will save a husband to his
wife, a father to his children. Chevalier, take my hand; it
is that of a friend who will love you to his last sigh."
Aramis stooped to kiss the king's hand, but Charles clasped
his and pressed it to his heart.
At this moment a man entered, without even knocking at the
door. Aramis tried to withdraw his hand, but the king still
held it. The man was one of those Puritans, half preacher
and half soldier, who swarmed around Cromwell.
"What do you want, sir?" said the king.
"I desire to know if the confession of Charles Stuart is at
an end?" said the stranger.
"And what is it to you?" replied the king; "we are not of
the same religion."
"All men are brothers," said the Puritan. "One of my
brothers is about to die and I come to prepare him."
"Bear with him," whispered Aramis; "it is doubtless some
spy."
"After my reverend lord bishop," said the king to the man,
"I shall hear you with pleasure, sir."
The man retired, but not before examining the supposed Juxon
with an attention which did not escape the king.
"Chevalier," said the king, when the door was closed, "I
believe you are right and that this man only came here with
evil intentions. Take care that no misfortune befalls you
when you leave."
"I thank your majesty," said Aramis, "but under these robes
I have a coat of mail, a pistol and a dagger."
"Go, then, sir, and God keep you!"
The king accompanied him to the door, where Aramis
pronounced his benediction upon him, and passing through the
ante-rooms, filled with soldiers, jumped into his carriage
and drove to the bishop's palace. Juxon was waiting for him
impatiently.
"Well?" said he, on perceiving Aramis.
"Everything has succeeded as I expected; spies, guards,
satellites, all took me for you, and the king blesses you
while waiting for you to bless him."
"May God protect you, my son; for your example has given me
at the same time hope and courage."
Aramis resumed his own attire and left Juxon with the
assurance that he might again have recourse to him.
He had scarcely gone ten yards in the street when he
perceived that he was followed by a man, wrapped in a large
cloak. He placed his hand on his dagger and stopped. The man
came straight toward him. It was Porthos.
"My dear friend," cried Aramis.
"You see, we had each our mission," said Porthos; "mine was
to guard you and I am doing so. Have you seen the king?"
"Yes, and all goes well."
"We are to meet our friends at the hotel at eleven."
It was then striking half-past ten by St. Paul's.
Arrived at the hotel it was not long before Athos entered.
"All's well," he cried, as he entered; "I have hired a cedar
wherry, as light as a canoe, as easy on the wing as any
swallow. It is waiting for us at Greenwich, opposite the
Isle of Dogs, manned by a captain and four men, who for the
sum of fifty pounds sterling will keep themselves at our
disposition three successive nights. Once on board we drop
down the Thames and in two hours are on the open sea. In
case I am killed, the captain's name is Roger and the skiff
is called the Lightning. A handkerchief, tied at the four
corners, is to be the signal."
Next moment D'Artagnan entered.
"Empty your pockets," said he; "I want a hundred pounds, and
as for my own ---- " and he emptied them inside out.
The sum was collected in a minute. D'Artagnan ran out and
returned directly after.
"There," said he, "it's done. Ough! and not without a deal
of trouble, too."
"Has the executioner left London?" asked Athos.
"Ah, you see that plan was not sure enough; he might go out
by one gate and return by another."
"Where is he, then?"
"In the cellar."
"The cellar -- what cellar?"
"Our landlord's, to be sure. Musqueton is propped against
the door and here's the key."
"Bravo!" said Aramis, "how did you manage it?"
"Like everything else, with money; but it cost me dear."
"How much?" asked Athos.
"Five hundred pounds."
"And where did you get so much money?" said Athos. "Had you,
then, that sum?"
"The queen's famous diamond," answered D'Artagnan, with a
sigh.
"Ah, true," said Aramis. "I recognized it on your finger."
"You bought it back, then, from Monsieur des Essarts?" asked
Porthos.
"Yes, but it was fated that I should not keep it."
"So, then, we are all right as regards the executioner,"
said Athos; "but unfortunately every executioner has his
assistant, his man, or whatever you call him."
"And this one had his," said D'Artagnan; "but, as good luck
would have it, just as I thought I should have two affairs
to manage, our friend was brought home with a broken leg. In
the excess of his zeal he had accompanied the cart
containing the scaffolding as far as the king's window, and
one of the crossbeams fell on his leg and broke it."
"Ah!" cried Aramis, "that accounts for the cry I heard."
"Probably," said D'Artagnan, "but as he is a thoughtful
young man he promised to send four expert workmen in his
place to help those already at the scaffold, and wrote the
moment he was brought home to Master Tom Lowe, an assistant
carpenter and friend of his, to go down to Whitehall, with
three of his friends. Here's the letter he sent by a
messenger, for sixpence, who sold it to me for a guinea."
"And what on earth are you going to do with it?" asked
Athos.
"Can't you guess, my dear Athos? You, who speak English like
John Bull himself, are Master Tom Lowe, we, your three
companions. Do you understand it now?"
Athos uttered a cry of joy and admiration, ran to a closet
and drew forth workmen's clothes, which the four friends
immediately put on; they then left the hotel, Athos carrying
a saw, Porthos a vise, Aramis an axe and D'Artagnan a hammer
and some nails.
The letter from the executioner's assistant satisfied the
master carpenter that those were the men he expected.
65
The Workmen.
Toward midnight Charles heard a great noise beneath his
window. It arose from blows of hammer and hatchet, clinking
of pincers and cranching of saws.
Lying dressed upon his bed, the noise awoke him with a start
and found a gloomy echo in his heart. He could not endure
it, and sent Parry to ask the sentinel to beg the workmen to
strike more gently and not disturb the last slumber of one
who had been their king. The sentinel was unwilling to leave
his post, but allowed Parry to pass.
Arriving at the window Parry found an unfinished scaffold,
over which they were nailing a covering of black serge.
Raised to the height of twenty feet, so as to be on a level
with the window, it had two lower stories. Parry, odious as
was this sight to him, sought for those among some eight or
ten workmen who were making the most noise; and fixed on two
men, who were loosening the last hooks of the iron balcony.
"My friends," said Parry, mounting the scaffold and standing
beside them, "would you work a little more quietly? The king
wishes to get a sleep."
One of the two, who was standing up, was of gigantic size
and was driving a pick with all his might into the wall,
whilst the other, kneeling beside him, was collecting the
pieces of stone. The face of the first was lost to Parry in
the darkness; but as the second turned around and placed his
finger on his lips Parry started back in amazement.
"Very well, very well," said the workman aloud, in excellent
English. "Tell the king that if he sleeps badly to-night he
will sleep better to-morrow night."
These blunt words, so terrible if taken literally, were
received by the other workmen with a roar of laughter. But
Parry withdrew, thinking he was dreaming.
Charles was impatiently awaiting his return. At the moment
he re-entered, the sentinel who guarded the door put his
head through the opening, curious as to what the king was
doing. The king was lying on his bed, resting on his elbow.
Parry closed the door and approaching the king, his face
radiant with joy:
"Sire," he said, in a low voice, "do you know who these
workmen are who are making so much noise?"
"I? No; how would you have me know?"
Parry bent his head and whispered to the king: "It is the
Comte de la Fere and his friends."
"Raising my scaffold!" cried the king, astounded.
"Yes, and at the same time making a hole in the wall."
The king clasped his hands and raised his eyes to Heaven;
then leaping down from his bed he went to the window, and
pulling aside the curtain tried to distinguish the figures
outside, but in vain.
Parry was not wrong. It was Athos he had recognized, and
Porthos who was boring a hole through the wall.
This hole communicated with a kind of loft -- the space
between the floor of the king's room and the ceiling of the
one below it. Their plan was to pass through the hole they
were making into this loft and cut out from below a piece of
the flooring of the king's room, so as to form a kind of
trap-door.
Through this the king was to escape the next night, and,
hidden by the black covering of the scaffold, was to change
his dress for that of a workman, slip out with his
deliverers, pass the sentinels, who would suspect nothing,
and so reach the skiff that was waiting for him at
Greenwich.
Day gilded the tops of the houses. The aperture was finished
and Athos passed through it, carrying the clothes destined
for the king wrapped in black cloth, and the tools with
which he was to open a communication with the king's room.
He had only two hours' work to do to open communication with
the king and, according to the calculations of the four
friends, they had the entire day before them, since, the
executioner being absent, another must be sent for to
Bristol.
D'Artagnan returned to change his workman's clothes for his
chestnut-colored suit, and Porthos to put on his red
doublet. As for Aramis, he went off to the bishop's palace
to see if he could possibly pass in with Juxon to the king's
presence. All three agreed to meet at noon in Whitehall
Place to see how things went on.
Before leaving the scaffold Aramis had approached the
opening where Athos was concealed to tell him that he was
about to make an attempt to gain another interview with the
king.
"Adieu, then, and be of good courage," said Athos. "Report
to the king the condition of affairs. Say to him that when
he is alone it will help us if he will knock on the floor,
for then I can continue my work in safety. Try, Aramis, to
keep near the king. Speak loud, very loud, for they will be
listening at the door. If there is a sentinel within the
apartment, kill him without hesitation. If there are two,
let Parry kill one and you the other. If there are three,
let yourself be slain, but save the king."
"Be easy," said Aramis; "I will take two poniards and give
one to Parry. Is that all?"
"Yes, go; but urge the king strongly not to stand on false
generosity. While you are fighting if there is a fight, he
must flee. The trap once replaced over his head, you being
on the trap, dead or alive, they will need at least ten
