Athos fixed upon Monk one of those penetrating looks which seemed to
convey to him to whom they are directed a challenge to conceal a single
one of his thoughts; then, taking off his hat, he began in a solemn
voice, while his interlocutor, with one hand upon his visage, allowed
that long and nervous hand to compress his mustache and beard, while his
vague and melancholy eye wandered about the recesses of the vaults.


Chapter XXVI:
Heart and Mind.

"My lord," said the Comte de la Fere, "you are an 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 offered him to come
hither to find the man upon whom now depends the fate of royalty and of
England; and I have come, and placed myself under the eye of this man,
and have placed myself naked and unarmed in his hands, saying: - 'My
lord, here are the last resources of a prince whom God made your master,
whom his birth made your king; upon you, and you alone, depend his life
and future.  Will you employ this money in consoling England for the
evils it must have suffered from anarchy; that is to say, will you aid,
and if not aid, will you allow King Charles II. to act?  You are master,
you are king, all-powerful master and king, for chance sometimes defeats
the work of time and God.  I am here alone with you, my lord: if divided
success alarms you, if my complicity annoys you, you are armed, my lord,
and here is a grave ready dug; if, on the contrary, the enthusiasm of
your cause carries you away, if you are what you appear to be, if your
hand in what it undertakes obeys your mind, and your mind your heart,
here are the means of ruining forever the cause of your enemy, Charles
Stuart.  Kill, then, the man you have before you, for that man will never
return to him who has sent him without bearing with him the deposit which
Charles I., his father, confided to him, and keep the gold which may
assist in carrying on the civil war.  Alas! my lord, it is the fate of
this unfortunate prince.  He must either corrupt or kill, for everything
resists him, everything repulses him, everything is hostile to him; and
yet he is marked with divine seal, and he must, not to belie his blood,
reascend the throne, or die upon the sacred soil of his country.'

"My lord, you have heard me.  To any other but the illustrious man who
listens to me, I would have said: 'My lord, you are poor; my lord, the
king offers you this million as an earnest of an immense bargain; take
it, and serve Charles II. as I served Charles I., and I feel assured that
God, who listens to us, who sees us, who alone reads in your heart, shut
up from all human eyes, - I am assured God will give you a happy eternal
life after death.'  But to General Monk, to the illustrious man of whose
standard I believe I have taken measure, I say: 'My lord, there is for
you in the history of peoples and kings a brilliant place, an immortal,
imperishable glory, if alone, without any other interest but the good of
your country and the interests of justice, you become the supporter of
your king.  Many others have been conquerors and glorious usurpers; you,
my lord, you will be content with being the most virtuous, the most
honest, and the most incorruptible of men: you will have held a crown in
your hand, and instead of placing it upon your own brow, you will have
deposited it upon the head of him for whom it was made.  Oh, my lord, act
thus, and you will leave to posterity the most enviable of names, in
which no human creature can rival you.'"

Athos stopped.  During the whole time that the noble gentleman was
speaking, Monk had not given one sign of either approbation or
disapprobation; scarcely even, during this vehement appeal, had his eyes
been animated with that fire which bespeaks intelligence.  The Comte de
la Fere looked at him sorrowfully, and on seeing that melancholy
countenance, felt discouragement penetrate to his very heart.  At length
Monk appeared to recover, and broke the silence.

"Monsieur," said he, in a mild, calm tone, "in reply to you, I will make
use of your own words.  To any other but yourself I would reply by
expulsion, imprisonment, or still worse, for, in fact, you tempt me and
you force me at the same time.  But you are one of those men, monsieur,
to whom it is impossible to refuse the attention and respect they merit;
you are a brave gentleman, monsieur - I say so, and I am a judge.  You
just now spoke of a deposit which the late king transmitted through you
to his son - are you, then, one of those Frenchmen who, as I have heard,
endeavored to carry off Charles I. from Whitehall?"

"Yes, my lord; it was I who was beneath the scaffold during the
execution; I, who had not been able to redeem it, received upon my brow
the blood of the martyred king.  I received, at the same time, the last
word of Charles I.; it was to me he said, 'REMEMBER!' and in saying,
'Remember!' he alluded to the money at your feet, my lord."

"I have heard much of you, monsieur," said Monk, "but I am happy to have,
in the first place, appreciated you by my own observations, and not by my
remembrances.  I will give you, then, explanations that I have given to
no other, and you will appreciate what a distinction I make between you
and the persons who have hitherto been sent to me."

Athos bowed and prepared to absorb greedily the words which fell, one by
one, from the mouth of Monk, - those words rare and precious as the dew
in the desert.

"You spoke to me," said Monk, "of Charles II.; but pray, monsieur, of
what consequence to me is that phantom of a king?  I have grown old in a
war and in a policy which are nowadays so closely linked together, that
every man of the sword must fight in virtue of his rights or his ambition
with a personal interest, and not blindly behind an officer, as in
ordinary wars.  For myself, I perhaps desire nothing, but I fear much.
In the war of to-day rests the liberty of England, and, perhaps, that of
every Englishman.  How can you expect that I, free in the position I have
made for myself, should go willingly and hold out my hands to the
shackles of a stranger?  That is all Charles is to me.  He has fought
battles here which he has lost, he is therefore a bad captain; he has
succeeded in no negotiation, he is therefore a bad diplomatist; he has
paraded his wants and his miseries in all the courts of Europe, he has
therefore a weak and pusillanimous heart.  Nothing noble, nothing great,
nothing strong has hitherto emanated from that genius which aspires to
govern one of the greatest kingdoms of the earth.  I know this Charles,
then, under none but bad aspects, and you would wish me, a man of good
sense, to go and make myself gratuitously the slave of a creature who is
inferior to me in military capacity, in politics, and in dignity!  No,
monsieur.  When some great and noble action shall have taught me to value
Charles, I shall perhaps recognize his rights to a throne from which we
cast the father because he wanted the virtues which his son has hitherto
lacked, but, in fact of rights, I only recognize my own; the revolution
made me a general, my sword will make me protector, if I wish it.  Let
Charles show himself, let him present himself, let him enter the
competition open to genius, and, above all, let him remember that he is
of a race from whom more will be expected than from any other.
Therefore, monsieur, say no more about him.  I neither refuse nor accept:
I reserve myself - I wait."

Athos knew Monk to be too well informed of all concerning Charles to
venture to urge the discussion further; it was neither the time nor the
place.  "My lord," then said he, "I have nothing to do but thank you."

"And why, monsieur?  Because you have formed a correct opinion of me, or
because I have acted according to your judgment?  Is that, in truth,
worthy of thanks?  This gold which you are about to carry to Charles will
serve me as a test for him, by seeing the use he will make of it.  I
shall have an opinion which now I have not."

"And yet does not your honor fear to compromise yourself by allowing such
a sum to be carried away for the service of your enemy?"

"My enemy, say you?  Eh, monsieur, I have no enemies.  I am in the
service of the parliament, which orders me to fight General Lambert and
Charles Stuart - its enemies, and not mine.  I fight them.  If the
parliament, on the contrary, ordered me to unfurl my standards on the
port of London, and to assemble my soldiers on the banks to receive
Charles II. - "

"You would obey?" cried Athos, joyfully.

"Pardon me," said Monk, smiling, "I was going on - I, a gray-headed man –
in truth, how could I forget myself? was going to speak like a foolish
young man."

"Then you would not obey?" said Athos.

"I do not say that either, monsieur.  The welfare of my country before
everything.  God, who has given me the power, has, no doubt, willed that
I should have that power for the good of all, and He has given me, at the
same time, discernment.  If the parliament were to order such a thing, I
should reflect."

The brow of Athos became clouded.  "Then I may positively say that your
honor is not inclined to favor King Charles II.?"

"You continue to question me, monsieur le comte; allow me to do so in
turn, if you please."

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