melancholy eye wandered about the recesses of the vaults.




CHAPTER 26

Heart and Mind



"My lord," said the Comte de la Fere, "you are a noble
Englishman, you are a loyal man; you are speaking to a noble
Frenchman, to a man of heart. The gold contained in these
two casks before us, I have told you was mine. I was wrong
-- it is the first lie I have pronounced in my life, a
temporary lie, it is true. This gold is the property of King
Charles II., exiled from his country, driven from his
palaces, the orphan at once of his father and his throne,
and deprived of everything, even of the melancholy happiness
of kissing on his knees the stone upon which the hands of
his murderers have written that simple epitaph which will
eternally cry out for vengeance upon them: -- `Here lies
Charles I.'"

Monk grew slightly pale, and an imperceptible shudder crept
over his skin and raised his gray mustache.

"I," continued Athos, "I, Comte de la Fere, the last, only
faithful friend the poor abandoned prince has left, I have