Twenty Years After 31

	Twenty Years After 31

In crossing the principal street in Derby the four friends perceived Blaisois standing in the doorway of a handsome house. It was there a lodging was prepared for them. At the hour agreed upon Groslow came. D’Artagnan received him as he would have done a friend of twenty years’ standing. Porthos scanned him from head to foot and smiled when he discovered that in spite of the blow he had administered to Parry’s brother, he was not nearly so strong as himself. Athos and Aramis suppressed as well as they could the disgust they felt in the presence of such coarseness and brutality. In short, Groslow seemed to be pleased with his reception. Athos and Aramis kept themselves to their role. At midnight they withdrew to their chamber, the door of which was left open on the pretext of kindly consideration. Furthermore, D’Artagnan went with them, leaving Porthos at play with Groslow. Porthos gained fifty pistoles from Groslow, and found him a more agreeable companion than he had at first believed him to be. As to Groslow, he promised himself that on the following evening he would recover from D’Artagnan what he had lost to Porthos, and on leaving reminded the Gascon of his appointment. The next day was spent as usual. D’Artagnan went from Captain Groslow to Colonel Harrison and from Colonel Harrison to his friends. To any one not acquainted with him he seemed to be in his normal condition; but to his friends--to Athos and Aramis--was apparent a certain feverishness in his gayety. "What is he contriving?" asked Aramis. "Wait," said Athos. Porthos said nothing, but he handled in his pocket the fifty pistoles he had gained from Groslow with a degree of satisfaction which betrayed itself in his whole bearing. Arrived at Ryston, D’Artagnan assembled his friends. His face had lost the expression of careless gayety it had worn like a mask the whole day. Athos pinched Aramis’s hand. "The moment is at hand," he said. "Yes," returned D’Artagnan, who had overheard him, "to-night, gentlemen, we rescue the king." "D’Artagnan," said Athos, "this is no joke, I trust? It would quite cut me up." "You are a very odd man, Athos," he replied, "to doubt me thus. Where and when have you seen me trifle with a friend’s heart and a king’s life? I have told you, and I repeat it, that to-night we rescue Charles I. You left it to me to discover the means and I have done so." Porthos looked at D’Artagnan with an expression of profound admiration. Aramis smiled as one who hopes. Athos was pale, and trembled in every limb. "Speak," said Athos. "We are invited," replied D’Artagnan, "to pass the night with M. Groslow. But do you know where?" "No." "In the king’s room." "The king’s room?" cried Athos. "Yes, gentlemen, in the king’s room. Groslow is on guard there this evening, and to pass the time away he has invited us to keep him company." "All four of us?" asked Athos. "Pardieu! certainly, all four; we couldn’t leave our prisoners, could we?" "Ah! ah!" said Aramis. "Tell us about it," said Athos, palpitating. "We are going, then, we two with our swords, you with daggers. We four have got to master these eight fools and their stupid captain. Monsieur Porthos, what do you say to that?" "I say it is easy enough," answered Porthos. "We dress the king in Groslow’s clothes. Mousqueton, Grimaud and Blaisois have our horses saddled at the end of the first street. We mount them and before daylight are twenty leagues distant." Athos placed his two hands on D’Artagnan’s shoulders, and gazed at him with his calm, sad smile. "I declare, my friend," said he, "that there is not a creature under the sky who equals you in prowess and in courage. Whilst we thought you indifferent to our sorrows, which you couldn’t share without crime, you alone among us have discovered what we were searching for in vain. I repeat it, D’Artagnan, you are the best one among us; I bless and love you, my dear son." "And to think that I couldn’t find that out," said Porthos, scratching his head; "it is so simple." "But," said Aramis, "if I understand rightly we are to kill them all, eh?" Athos shuddered and turned pale. "Mordioux!" answered D’Artagnan, "I believe we must. I confess I can discover no other safe and satisfactory way." "Let us see," said Aramis, "how are we to act?" "I have arranged two plans. Firstly, at a given signal, which shall be the words ’At last,’ you each plunge a dagger into the heart of the soldier nearest to you. We, on our side, do the same. That will be four killed. We shall then be matched, four against the remaining five. If these five men give themselves up we gag them; if they resist, we kill them. If by chance our Amphitryon changes his mind and receives only Porthos and myself, why, then, we must resort to heroic measures and each give two strokes instead of one. It will take a little longer time and may make a greater disturbance, but you will be outside with swords and will rush in at the proper time." "But if you yourselves should be struck?" said Athos. "Impossible!" said D’Artagnan; "those beer drinkers are too clumsy and awkward. Besides, you will strike at the throat, Porthos; it kills as quickly and prevents all outcry." "Very good," said Porthos; "it will be a nice little throat cutting." "Horrible, horrible," exclaimed Athos. "Nonsense," said D’Artagnan; "you would do as much, Mr. Humanity, in a battle. But if you think the king’s life is not worth what it must cost there’s an end of the matter and I send to Groslow to say I am ill." "No, you are right," said Athos. At this moment a soldier entered to inform them that Groslow was waiting for them. "Where?" asked D’Artagnan. "In the room of the English Nebuchadnezzar," replied the staunch Puritan. "Good," replied Athos, whose blood mounted to his face at the insult offered to royalty; "tell the captain we are coming." The Puritan then went out. The lackeys had been ordered to saddle eight horses and to wait, keeping together and without dismounting, at the corner of a street about twenty steps from the house where the king was lodged. It was nine o’clock in the evening; the sentinels had been relieved at eight and Captain Groslow had been on guard for an hour. D’Artagnan and Porthos, armed with their swords, and Athos and Aramis, each carrying a concealed poniard, approached the house which for the time being was Charles Stuart’s prison. The two latter followed their captors in the humble guise of captives, without arms. "Od’s bodikins," said Groslow, as the four friends entered, "I had almost given you up." D’Artagnan went up to him and whispered in his ear: "The fact is, we, that is, Monsieur du Vallon and I, hesitated a little." "And why?" D’Artagnan looked significantly toward Athos and Aramis. "Aha," said Groslow; "on account of political opinions? No matter. On the contrary," he added, laughing, "if they want to see their Stuart they shall see him. "Are we to pass the night in the king’s room?" asked D’Artagnan. "No, but in the one next to it, and as the door will remain open it comes to the same thing. Have you provided yourself with money? I assure you I intend to play the devil’s game to-night." D’Artagnan rattled the gold in his pockets. "Very good," said Groslow, and opened the door of the room. "I will show you the way," and he went in first. D’Artagnan turned to look at his friends. Porthos was perfectly indifferent; Athos, pale, but resolute; Aramis was wiping a slight moisture from his brow. The eight guards were at their posts. Four in the king’s room, two at the door between the rooms and two at that by which the friends had entered. Athos smiled when he saw their bare swords; he felt it was no longer to be a butchery, but a fight, and he resumed his usual good humor. Charles was perceived through the door, lying dressed upon his bed, at the head of which Parry was seated, reading in a low voice a chapter from the Bible. A candle of coarse tallow on a black table lighted up the handsome and resigned face of the king and that of his faithful retainer, far less calm. From time to time Parry stopped, thinking the king, whose eyes were closed, was really asleep, but Charles would open his eyes and say with a smile: "Go on, my good Parry, I am listening." Groslow advanced to the door of the king’s room, replaced on his head the hat he had taken off to receive his guests, looked for a moment contemptuously at this simple, yet touching scene, then turning to D’Artagnan, assumed an air of triumph at what he had achieved. "Capital!" cried the Gascon, "you would make a distinguished general." "And do you think," asked Groslow, "that Stuart will ever escape while I am on guard?" "No, to be sure," replied D’Artagnan; "unless, forsooth, the sky rains friends upon him." Groslow’s face brightened. It is impossible to say whether Charles, who kept his eyes constantly closed, had noticed the insolence of the Puritan captain, but the moment he heard the clear tone of D’Artagnan’s voice his eyelids rose, in spite of himself. Parry, too, started and stopped reading. "What are you thinking about?" said the king; "go on, my good Parry, unless you are tired." Parry resumed his reading. On a table in the next room were lighted candles, cards, two dice-boxes, and dice. "Gentlemen," said Groslow, "I beg you will take your places. I will sit facing Stuart, whom I like so much to see, especially where he now is, and you, Monsieur d’Artagnan, opposite to me." Athos turned red with rage. D’Artagnan frowned at him. "That’s it," said D’Artagnan; "you, Monsieur le Comte de la Fere, to the right of Monsieur Groslow. You, Chevalier d’Herblay, to his left. Du Vallon next me. You’ll bet for me and those gentlemen for Monsieur Groslow." By this arrangement D’Artagnan could nudge Porthos with his knee and make signs with his eyes to Athos and Aramis. At the names Comte de la Fere and Chevalier d’Herblay, Charles opened his eyes, and raising his noble head, in spite of himself, threw a glance at all the actors in the scene. At that moment Parry turned over several leaves of his Bible and read with a loud voice this verse in Jeremiah: "God said, ’Hear ye the words of the prophets my servants, whom I have sent unto you.’" The four friends exchanged glances. The words that Parry had read assured them that their presence was understood by the king and was assigned to its real motive. D’Artagnan’s eyes sparkled with joy. "You asked me just now if I was in funds," said D’Artagnan, placing some twenty pistoles upon the table. "Well, in my turn I advise you to keep a sharp lookout on your treasure, my dear Monsieur Groslow, for I can tell you we shall not leave this without robbing you of it." "Not without my defending it," said Groslow. "So much the better," said D’Artagnan. "Fight, my dear captain, fight. You know or you don’t know, that that is what we ask of you." "Oh! yes," said Groslow, bursting with his usual coarse laugh, "I know you Frenchmen want nothing but cuts and bruises." Charles had heard and understood it all. A slight color mounted to his cheeks. The soldiers then saw him stretch his limbs, little by little, and under the pretense of much heat throw off the Scotch plaid which covered him. Athos and Aramis started with delight to find that the king was lying with his clothes on. The game began. The luck had turned, and Groslow, having won some hundred pistoles, was in the merriest possible humor. Porthos, who had lost the fifty pistoles he had won the night before and thirty more besides, was very cross and questioned D’Artagnan with a nudge of the knee as to whether it would not soon be time to change the game. Athos and Aramis looked at him inquiringly. But D’Artagnan remained impassible. It struck ten. They heard the guard going its rounds. "How many rounds do they make a night?" asked D’Artagnan, drawing more pistoles from his pocket. "Five," answered Groslow, "one every two hours." D’Artagnan glanced at Athos and Aramis and for the first time replied to Porthos’s nudge of the knee by a nudge responsive. Meanwhile, the soldiers whose duty it was to remain in the king’s room, attracted by that love of play so powerful in all men, had stolen little by little toward the table, and standing on tiptoe, lounged, watching the game, over the shoulders of D’Artagnan and Porthos. Those on the other side had followed their example, thus favoring the views of the four friends, who preferred having them close at hand to chasing them about the chamber. The two sentinels at the door still had their swords unsheathed, but they were leaning on them while they watched the game. Athos seemed to grow calm as the critical moment approached. With his white, aristocratic hands he played with the louis, bending and straightening them again, as if they were made of pewter. Aramis, less self-controlled, fumbled continually with his hidden poniard. Porthos, impatient at his continued losses, kept up a vigorous play with his knee. D’Artagnan turned, mechanically looking behind him, and between the figures of two soldiers he could see Parry standing up and Charles leaning on his elbow with his hands clasped and apparently offering a fervent prayer to God. D’Artagnan saw that the moment was come. He darted a preparatory glance at Athos and Aramis, who slyly pushed their chairs a little back so as to leave themselves more space for action. He gave Porthos a second nudge of the knee and Porthos got up as if to stretch his legs and took care at the same time to ascertain that his sword could be drawn smoothly from the scabbard. "Hang it!" cried D’Artagnan, "another twenty pistoles lost. Really, Captain Groslow, you are too much in fortune’s way. This can’t last," and he drew another twenty from his pocket. "One more turn, captain; twenty pistoles on one throw--only one, the last." "Done for twenty," replied Groslow. And he turned up two cards as usual, a king for D’Artagnan and an ace for himself. "A king," said D’Artagnan; "it’s a good omen, Master Groslow--look out for the king." And in spite of his extraordinary self-control there was a strange vibration in the Gascon’s voice which made his partner start. Groslow began turning the cards one after another. If he turned up an ace first he won; if a king he lost. He turned up a king. "At last!" cried D’Artagnan. At this word Athos and Aramis jumped up. Porthos drew back a step. Daggers and swords were just about to shine, when suddenly the door was thrown open and Harrison appeared in the doorway, accompanied by a man enveloped in a large cloak. Behind this man could be seen the glistening muskets of half a dozen soldiers. Groslow jumped up, ashamed at being surprised in the midst of wine, cards, and dice. But Harrison paid not the least attention to him, and entering the king’s room, followed by his companion: "Charles Stuart," said he, "an order has come to conduct you to London without stopping day or night. Prepare yourself, then, to start at once." "And by whom is this order given?" asked the king. "By General Oliver Cromwell. And here is Mr. Mordaunt, who has brought it and is charged with its execution." "Mordaunt!" muttered the four friends, exchanging glances. D’Artagnan swept up the money that he and Porthos had lost and buried it in his huge pocket. Athos and Aramis placed themselves behind him. At this movement Mordaunt turned around, recognized them, and uttered an exclamation of savage delight. "I’m afraid we are prisoners," whispered D’Artagnan to his friend. "Not yet," replied Porthos. "Colonel, colonel," cried Mordaunt, "you are betrayed. These four Frenchmen have escaped from Newcastle, and no doubt want to carry off the king. Arrest them." "Ah! my young man," said D’Artagnan, drawing his sword, "that is an order sooner given than executed. Fly, friends, fly!" he added, whirling his sword around him. The next moment he darted to the door and knocked down two of the soldiers who guarded it, before they had time to cock their muskets. Athos and Aramis followed him. Porthos brought up the rear, and before soldiers, officers, or colonel had time to recover their surprise all four were in the street. "Fire!" cried Mordaunt; "fire upon them!" Three or four shots were fired, but with no other result than to show the four fugitives turning the corner of the street safe and sound. The horses were at the place fixed upon, and they leaped lightly into their saddles. "Forward!" cried D’Artagnan, "and spur for your dear lives!" They galloped away and took the road they had come by in the morning, namely, in the direction toward Scotland. A few hundred yards beyond the town D’Artagnan drew rein. "Halt!" he cried, "this time we shall be pursued. We must let them leave the village and ride after us on the northern road, and when they have passed we will take the opposite direction." There was a stream close by and a bridge across it. D’Artagnan led his horse under the arch of the bridge. The others followed. Ten minutes later they heard the rapid gallop of a troop of horsemen. A few minutes more and the troop passed over their heads. 62. London. As soon as the noise of the hoofs was lost in the distance D’Artagnan remounted the bank of the stream and scoured the plain, followed by his three friends, directing their course, as well as they could guess, toward London. "This time," said D’Artagnan, when they were sufficiently distant to proceed at a trot, "I think all is lost and we have nothing better to do than to reach France. What do you say, Athos, to that proposition? Isn’t it reasonable?" "Yes, dear friend," Athos replied, "but you said a word the other day that was more than reasonable--it was noble and generous. You said, ’Let us die here!’ I recall to you that word." "Oh," said Porthos, "death is nothing: it isn’t death that can disquiet us, since we don’t know what it is. What troubles me is the idea of defeat. As things are turning out, I foresee that we must give battle to London, to the provinces, to all England, and certainly in the end we can’t fail to be beaten." "We ought to witness this great tragedy even to its last scene," said Athos. "Whatever happens, let us not leave England before the crisis. Don’t you agree with me, Aramis?" "Entirely, my dear count. Then, too, I confess I should not be sorry to come across Mordaunt again. It appears to me that we have an account to settle with him, and that it is not our custom to leave a place without paying our debts, of this kind, at least." "Ah! that’s another thing," said D’Artagnan, "and I should not mind waiting in London a whole year for a chance of meeting this Mordaunt in question. Only let us lodge with some one on whom we can count; for I imagine, just now, that Noll Cromwell would not be inclined to trifle with us. Athos, do you know any inn in the whole town where one can find white sheets, roast beef reasonably cooked, and wine which is not made of hops and gin?" "I think I know what you want," replied Athos. "De Winter took us to the house of a Spaniard, who, he said, had become naturalized as an Englishman by the guineas of his new compatriots. What do you say to it, Aramis?" "Why, the idea of taking quarters with Senor Perez seems to me very reasonable, and for my part I agree to it. We will invoke the remembrance of that poor De Winter, for whom he seemed to have a great regard; we will tell him that we have come as amateurs to see what is going on; we will spend with him a guinea each per day; and I think that by taking all these precautions we can be quite undisturbed." "You forget, Aramis, one precaution of considerable importance." "What is that?" "The precaution of changing our clothes." "Changing our clothes!" exclaimed Porthos. "I don’t see why; we are very comfortable in those we wear." "To prevent recognition," said D’Artagnan. "Our clothes have a cut which would proclaim the Frenchman at first sight. Now, I don’t set sufficient store on the cut of my jerkin to risk being hung at Tyburn or sent for change of scene to the Indies. I shall buy a chestnut-colored suit. I’ve remarked that your Puritans revel in that color." "But can you find your man?" said Aramis to Athos. "Oh! to be sure, yes. He lives at the Bedford Tavern, Greenhall Street. Besides, I can find my way about the city with my eyes shut." "I wish we were already there," said D’Artagnan; "and my advice is that we reach London before daybreak, even if we kill our horses." "Come on, then," said Athos, "for unless I am mistaken in my calculations we have only eight or ten leagues to go." The friends urged on their horses and arrived, in fact, at about five o’clock in the morning. They were stopped and questioned at the gate by which they sought to enter the city, but Athos replied, in excellent English, that they had been sent forward by Colonel Harrison to announce to his colleague, Monsieur Bridge, the approach of the king. That reply led to several questions about the king’s capture, and Athos gave details so precise and positive that if the gatekeepers had any suspicions they vanished completely. The way was therefore opened to the four friends with all sorts of Puritan congratulations. Athos was right. He went direct to the Bedford Tavern, and the host, who recognized him, was delighted to see him again with such a numerous and promising company. Though it was scarcely daylight our four travelers found the town in a great bustle, owing to the reported approach of Harrison and the king. The plan of changing their clothes was unanimously adopted. The landlord sent out for every description of garment, as if he wanted to fit up his wardrobe. Athos chose a black coat, which gave him the appearance of a respectable citizen. Aramis, not wishing to part with his sword, selected a dark-blue cloak of a military cut. Porthos was seduced by a wine-colored doublet and sea-green breeches. D’Artagnan, who had fixed on his color beforehand, had only to select the shade, and looked in his chestnut suit exactly like a retired sugar dealer. "Now," said D’Artagnan, "for the actual man. We must cut off our hair, that the populace may not insult us. As we no longer wear the sword of the gentleman we may as well have the head of the Puritan. This, as you know, is the important point of distinction between the Covenanter and the Cavalier." After some discussion this was agreed to and Mousqueton played the role of barber. "We look hideous," said Athos. "And smack of the Puritan to a frightful extent," said Aramis. "My head feels actually cold," said Porthos. "As for me, I feel anxious to preach a sermon," said D’Artagnan. "Now," said Athos, "that we cannot even recognize one another and have therefore no fear of others recognizing us, let us go and see the king’s entrance." They had not been long in the crowd before loud cries announced the king’s arrival. A carriage had been sent to meet him, and the gigantic Porthos, who stood a head above the entire rabble, soon announced that he saw the royal equipage approaching. D’Artagnan raised himself on tiptoe, and as the carriage passed, saw Harrison at one window and Mordaunt at the other. The next day, Athos, leaning out of his window, which looked upon the most populous part of the city, heard the Act of Parliament, which summoned the ex-king, Charles I., to the bar, publicly cried. "Parliament indeed!" cried Athos. "Parliament can never have passed such an act as that." At this moment the landlord came in. "Did parliament pass this act?" Athos asked of him in English. "Yes, my lord, the pure parliament." "What do you mean by ’the pure parliament’? Are there, then, two parliaments?" "My friend," D’Artagnan interrupted, "as I don’t understand English and we all understand Spanish, have the kindness to speak to us in that language, which, since it is your own, you must find pleasure in using when you have the chance." "Ah! excellent!" said Aramis. As to Porthos, all his attention was concentrated on the allurements of the breakfast table. "You were asking, then?" said the host in Spanish. "I asked," said Athos, in the same language, "if there are two parliaments, a pure and an impure?" "Why, how extraordinary!" said Porthos, slowly raising his head and looking at his friends with an air of astonishment, "I understand English, then! I understand what you say!" "That is because we are talking Spanish, my dear friend," said Athos. "Oh, the devil!" said Porthos, "I am sorry for that; it would have been one language more." "When I speak of the pure parliament," resumed the host, "I mean the one which Colonel Bridge has weeded." "Ah! really," said D’Artagnan, "these people are very ingenious. When I go back to France I must suggest some such convenient course to Cardinal Mazarin and the coadjutor. One 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.’"