searching look of the king he encountered the burning eyes
of Aramis.
The king, seeing that he did not reply, repeated his
question.
"It will do," replied the man, in a tremulous voice, "if you
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.
"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.
"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.
The doctors are embalming the corpse, and when it is ready
it will be placed in a lighted chapel."
"Mockery," muttered Athos, savagely; "royal honors to one
whom they have murdered!"
"Well, cheer up!" said a loud voice from the staircase,
which Porthos had just mounted. "We are all mortal, my poor
friends."
"You are late, my dear Porthos."
"Yes, there were some people on the way who delayed me. The
wretches were dancing. I took one of them by the throat and
three-quarters throttled him. Just then a patrol rode up.
Luckily the man I had had most to do with was some minutes
before he could speak, so I took advantage of his silence to
walk off."
"Have you seen D'Artagnan?"
"We got separated in the crowd and I could not find him
again."
"Oh!" said Athos, satirically, "I saw him. He was in the
front row of the crowd, admirably placed for seeing; and as
on the whole the sight was curious, he probably wished to
stay to the end."
"Ah Comte de la Fere," said a calm voice, though hoarse with
running, "is it your habit to calumniate the absent?"
This reproof stung Athos to the heart, but as the impression
produced by seeing D'Artagnan foremost in a coarse,
ferocious crowd had been very strong, he contented himself
with replying:
"I am not calumniating you, my friend. They were anxious
about you here; I simply told them where you were. You
didn't know King Charles; to you he was only a foreigner and
you were not obliged to love him."
So saying, he stretched out his hand, but the other
pretended not to see it and he let it drop again slowly by
his side.
"Ugh! I am tired," cried D'Artagnan, sitting down.
"Drink a glass of port," said Aramis; "it will refresh you."
"Yes, let us drink," said Athos, anxious to make it up by
hobnobbing with D'Artagnan, "let us drink and get away from
this hateful country. The felucca is waiting for us, you
know; let us leave to-night, we have nothing more to do
here."
"You are in a hurry, sir count," said D'Artagnan.
"But what would you have us to do here, now that the king is
dead?"
"Go, sir count," replied D'Artagnan, carelessly; "you see
nothing to keep you a little longer in England? Well, for my
part, I, a bloodthirsty ruffian, who can go and stand close
to a scaffold, in order to have a better view of the king's
execution -- I remain."
Athos turned pale. Every reproach his friend uttered struck
deeply in his heart.
"Ah! you remain in London?" said Porthos.
"Yes. And you?"
"Hang it!" said Porthos, a little perplexed between the two,
"I suppose, as I came with you, I must go away with you. I
can't leave you alone in this abominable country."
"Thanks, my worthy friend. So I have a little adventure to
propose to you when the count is gone. I want to find out
who was the man in the mask, who so obligingly offered to
cut the king's throat."
"A man in a mask?" cried Athos. "You did not let the
executioner escape, then?"
"The executioner is still in the cellar, where, I presume,
he has had an interview with mine host's bottles. But you
remind me. Musqueton!"
"Sir," answered a voice from the depths of the earth.
"Let out your prisoner. All is over."
"But," said Athos, "who is the wretch that has dared to
raise his hand against his king?"
"An amateur headsman," replied Aramis, "who however, does
not handle the axe amiss."
"Did you not see his face?" asked Athos.
"He wore a mask."
"But you, Aramis, who were close to him?"
"I could see nothing but a gray beard under the fringe of
the mask."
"Then it must be a man of a certain age."
"Oh!" said D'Artagnan, "that matters little. When one puts
on a mask, it is not difficult to wear a beard under it."
"I am sorry I did not follow him," said Porthos.
"Well, my dear Porthos," said D'Artagnan, "that's the very
thing it came into my head to do."
Athos understood all now.
"Pardon me, D'Artagnan," he said. "I have distrusted God; I
could the more easily distrust you. Pardon me, my friend."
"We will see about that presently," said D'Artagnan, with a
slight smile.
"Well, then?" said Aramis.
"Well, while I was watching -- not the king, as monsieur le
comte thinks, for I know what it is to see a man led to
death, and though I ought to be accustomed to the sight it
always makes me ill -- while I was watching the masked
executioner, the idea came to me, as I said, to find out who
he was. Now, as we are wont to complete ourselves each by
all the rest and to depend on one another for assistance, as
one calls his other hand to aid the first, I looked around
instinctively to see if Porthos was there; for I had seen
you, Aramis, with the king, and you, count, I knew would be
under the scaffold, and for that reason I forgive you," he
added, offering Athos his hand, "for you must have suffered
much. I was looking around for Porthos when I saw near me a
head which had been broken, but which, for better or worse,
had been patched with plaster and with black silk. `Humph!'
thought I, `that looks like my handiwork; I fancy I must
have mended that skull somewhere or other.' And, in fact, it
was that unfortunate Scotchman, Parry's brother, you know,
on whom Groslow amused himself by trying his strength. Well,
this man was making signs to another at my left, and turning
around I recognized the honest Grimaud. `Oh!' said I to him.
Grimaud turned round with a jerk, recognized me, and pointed
to the man in the mask. `Eh!' said he, which meant, `Do you
see him?' `Parbleu!' I answered, and we perfectly understood
one another. Well, everything was finished as you know. The
mob dispersed. I made a sign to Grimaud and the Scotchman,
and we all three retired into a corner of the square. I saw
the executioner return into the king's room, change his
clothes, put on a black hat and a large cloak and disappear.
Five minutes later he came down the grand staircase."
'You followed him?" cried Athos.
"I should think so, but not without difficulty. Every few
minutes he turned around, and thus obliged us to conceal
ourselves. I might have gone up to him and killed him. But I
am not selfish, and I thought it might console you all a
little to have a share in the matter. So we followed him
through the lowest streets in the city, and in half an
hour's time he stopped before a little isolated house.
Grimaud drew out a pistol. `Eh?' said he, showing it. I held
back his arm. The man in the mask stopped before a low door
and drew out a key; but before he placed it in the lock he
turned around to see if he was being followed. Grimaud and I
got behind a tree, and the Scotchman having nowhere to hide
himself, threw himself on his face in the road. Next moment
the door opened and the man disappeared."
"The scoundrel!" said Aramis. "While you have been returning
hither he will have escaped and we shall never find him."
"Come, now, Aramis," said D'Artagnan, "you must be taking me
for some one else."
"Nevertheless," said Athos, "in your absence ---- "
"Well, in my absence haven't I put in my place Grimaud and
the Scotchman? Before he had taken ten steps beyond the door
I had examined the house on all sides. At one of the doors,
that by which he had entered, I placed our Scotchman, making
a sign to him to follow the man wherever he might go, if he
came out again. Then going around the house I placed Grimaud
at the other exit, and here I am. Our game is beaten up. Now
for the tally-ho."
Athos threw himself into D'Artagnan's arms.
"Friend," he said, "you have been too good in pardoning me;
I was wrong, a hundred times wrong. I ought to have known
you better by this time; but we are all possessed of a
malignant spirit, which bids us doubt."
"Humph!" said Porthos. "Don't you think the executioner
might be Master Cromwell, who, to make sure of this affair,
undertook it himself?"
"Ah! just so. Cromwell is stout and short, and this man thin
and lanky, rather tall than otherwise."
"Some condemned soldier, perhaps," suggested Athos, "whom
they have pardoned at the price of regicide."
"No, no," continued D'Artagnan, "it was not the measured
step of a foot soldier, nor was it the gait of a horseman.
If I am not mistaken we have to do with a gentleman."
"A gentleman!" exclaimed Athos. "Impossible! It would be a
dishonor to all the nobility."
"Fine sport, by Jove!" cried Porthos, with a laugh that
shook the windows. "Fine sport!"
"Are you still bent on departure, Athos?" asked D'Artagnan.
"No, I remain," replied Athos, with a threatening gesture
that promised no good to whomsoever it was addressed.
"Swords, then!" cried Aramis, "swords! let us not lose a
moment."
The four friends resumed their own clothes, girded on their
swords, ordered Musqueton and Blaisois to pay the bill and
