liberty. We shall soon know how M. d'Artagnan profited by this. For
the moment, if the reader will permit us, we shall return to the hostelry
of _les Medici_, of which one of the windows opened at the very moment
the orders were given for the departure of the king.

The window that opened was that of one of the rooms of Charles II. The
unfortunate prince had passed the night in bitter reflections, his head
resting on his hands, and his elbows on the table, whilst Parry, infirm
and old, wearied in body and in mind, had fallen asleep in a corner. A
singular fortune was that of this faithful servant, who saw beginning for
the second generation the fearful series of misfortunes which had weighed
so heavily on the first. When Charles II. had well thought over the
fresh defeat he had experienced, when he perfectly comprehended the
complete isolation into which he had just fallen, on seeing his fresh
hope left behind him, he was seized as with a vertigo, and sank back into
the large armchair in which he was seated. Then God took pity on the
unhappy prince, and sent to console him sleep, the innocent brother of
death. He did not wake till half-past six, that is to say, till the sun
shone brightly into his chamber, and Parry, motionless with fear of
waking him, was observing with profound grief the eyes of the young man
already red with wakefulness, and his cheeks pale with suffering and
privations.

At length the noise of some heavy carts descending towards the Loire
awakened Charles. He arose, looked around him like a man who has
forgotten everything, perceived Parry, shook him by the hand, and
commanded him to settle the reckoning with Master Cropole. Master
Cropole, being called upon to settle his account with Parry, acquitted
himself, it must be allowed, like an honest man; he only made his
customary remark, that the two travelers had eaten nothing, which had the