word that escaped from him. His head touched that of the
comte.

"Then," continued Athos, "the king stooped. `Comte de la
Fere,' said he, `I could not be saved by you: it was not to
be. Now, even though I commit a sacrilege, I must speak to
you. Yes, I have spoken to men -- yes, I have spoken to God,
and I speak to you the last. To sustain a cause which I
thought sacred, I have lost the throne of my fathers and the
heritage of my children.'"

Charles II. concealed his face in his hands, and a bitter
tear glided between his white and slender fingers.

"`I have still a million in gold,' continued the king. `I
buried it in the vaults of the castle of Newcastle, a moment
before I left that city.'" Charles raised his head with an
expression of such painful joy that it would have drawn
tears from any one acquainted with his misfortunes.

"A million!" murmured he. "Oh, count!"

"`You alone know that this money exists: employ it when you
think it can be of the greatest service to my eldest son.
And now, Comte de la Fere, bid me adieu!'

"`Adieu, adieu, sire!' cried I."

Charles arose, and went and leant his burning brow against
the window.