"For your assistance; that is to say, not only for that which kings owe
to each other, but that which simple Christians owe to each other - your
assistance, sire, either in money or men. Your assistance, sire, and
within a month, whether I oppose Lambert to Monk, or Monk to Lambert, I
shall have reconquered my paternal inheritance, without having cost my
country a guinea, or my subjects a drop of blood, for they are now all
drunk with revolutions, protectorates, and republics, and ask nothing
better than to fall staggering to sleep in the arms of royalty. Your
assistance, sire, and I shall owe you more than I owe my father, - my
poor father, who bought at so dear a rate the ruin of our house! You may
judge, sire, whether I am unhappy, whether I am in despair, for I accuse
my own father!"

And the blood mounted to the pale face of Charles II., who remained for
an instant with his head between his hands, and as if blinded by that
blood which appeared to revolt against the filial blasphemy.

The young king was not less affected than his elder brother; he threw
himself about in his _fauteuil_, and could not find a single word of
reply.

Charles II., to whom ten years in age gave a superior strength to master
his emotions, recovered his speech the first.

"Sire," said he, "your reply? I wait for it as a criminal waits for his
sentence. Must I die?"

"My brother," replied the French prince, "you ask of me for a million -
me, who was never possessed of a quarter of that sum! I possess