The day had begun to break when Athos arose and dressedhimself. It was plain, by a paleness still greater thanusual, and by those traces which loss of sleep leaves on theface, that he must have passed almost the whole of the nightwithout sleeping. Contrary to the custom of a man so firmand decided, there was this morning in his personalappearance something tardy and irresolute.

He was occupied with the preparations for Raoul's departureand was seeking to gain time. In the first place he himselffurbished a sword, which he drew from its perfumed leathersheath; he examined it to see if its hilt was well guardedand if the blade was firmly attached to the hilt. Then heplaced at the bottom of the valise belonging to the youngman a small bag of louis, called Olivain, the lackey who hadfollowed him from Blois, and made him pack the valise underhis own eyes, watchful to see that everything should be putin which might be useful to a young man entering on hisfirst campaign.

At length, after occupying about an hour in thesepreparations, he opened the door of the room in which thevicomte slept, and entered.

The sun, already high, penetrated into the room through thewindow, the curtains of which Raoul had neglected to closeon the previous evening. He was still sleeping, his headgracefully reposing on his arm.

Athos approached and hung over the youth in an attitude fullof tender melancholy; he looked long on this young man,whose smiling mouth and half closed eyes bespoke soft dreamsand lightest slumber, as if his guardian angel watched overhim with solicitude and affection. By degrees Athos gavehimself up to the charms of his reverie in the proximity ofyouth, so pure, so fresh. His own youth seemed to reappear,bringing with it all those savoury remembrances, which arelike perfumes more than thoughts. Between the past and thepresent was an ineffable abyss. But imagination has thewings of an angel of light and travels safely through orover the seas where we have been almost shipwrecked, thedarkness in which our illusions are lost, the precipicewhence our happiness has been hurled and swallowed up. Heremembered that all the first part of his life had beenembittered by a woman and he thought with alarm of theinfluence love might assume over so fine, and at the sametime so vigorous an organization as that of Raoul.

In recalling all he had been through, he foresaw all thatRaoul might suffer; and the expression of the deep andtender compassion which throbbed in his heart was picturedin the moist eye with which he gazed on the young man.

At this moment Raoul awoke, without a cloud on his facewithout weariness or lassitude; his eyes were fixed on thoseof Athos and perhaps he comprehended all that passed in theheart of the man who was awaiting his awakening as a loverawaits the awakening of his mistress, for his glance, inreturn, had all the tenderness of love.

"You are there, sir?" he said, respectfully.

"Yes, Raoul," replied the count.

"And you did not awaken me?"

"I wished to leave you still to enjoy some moments of sleep,my child; you must be fatigued from yesterday."

"Oh, sir, how good you are!"

Athos smiled.

"How do you feel this morning?" he inquired.

"Perfectly well; quite rested, sir."

"You are still growing," Athos continued, with that charmingand paternal interest felt by a grown man for a youth.

"Oh, sir, I beg your pardon!" exclaimed Raoul, ashamed of somuch attention; "in an instant I shall be dressed."

Athos then called Olivain.

"Everything," said Olivain to Athos, "has been doneaccording to your directions; the horses are waiting."

"And I was asleep," cried Raoul, "whilst you, sir, you hadthe kindness to attend to all these details. Truly, sir, youoverwhelm me with benefits!"

"Therefore you love me a little, I hope," replied Athos, ina tone of emotion.

"Oh, sir! God knows how much I love, revere you."

"See that you forget nothing," said Athos, appearing to lookabout him, that he might hide his emotion.

"No, indeed, sir," answered Raoul.

The servant then approached Athos and said, hesitatingly:

"Monsieur le vicomte has no sword."

"'Tis well," said Athos, "I will take care of that."

They went downstairs, Raoul looking every now and then atthe count to see if the moment of farewell was at hand, butAthos was silent. When they reached the steps Raoul sawthree horses.

"Oh, sir! then you are going with me?"

"I will accompany you a portion of the way," said Athos.

Joy shone in Raoul's eyes and he leaped lightly to hissaddle.

Athos mounted more slowly, after speaking in a low voice tothe lackey, who, instead of following them immediately,returned to their rooms. Raoul, delighted at the count'scompanionship, perceived, or affected to perceive nothing ofthis byplay.

They set out, passing over the Pont Neuf; they pursued theirway along the quay then called L'Abreuvoir Pepin, and wentalong by the walls of the Grand Chatelet. They proceeded tothe Rue Saint Denis.

After passing through the Porte Saint Denis, Athos looked atRaoul's way of riding and observed:

"Take care, Raoul! I have already often told you of this;you must not forget it, for it is a great defect in a rider.See! your horse is tired already, he froths at the mouth,whilst mine looks as if he had only just left the stable.You hold the bit too tight and so make his mouth hard, sothat you will not be able to make him manoeuvre quickly. Thesafety of a cavalier often depends on the prompt obedienceof his horse. In a week, remember, you will no longer beperforming your manoeuvres for practice, but on a field ofbattle."

Then suddenly, in order not to give too uncomfortable animportance to this observation:

"See, Raoul!" he resumed; "what a fine plain for partridgeshooting."

The young man stored in his mind the admonition whilst headmired the delicate tenderness with which it was bestowed.

"I have remarked also another thing," said Athos, "which is,that in firing off your pistol you hold your arm too faroutstretched. This tension lessens the accuracy of the aim.So in twelve times you thrice missed the mark."

"Which you, sir, struck twelve times," answered Raoul,smiling.

"Because I bent my arm and rested my hand on my elbow - so;do you understand what I mean?"

"Yes, sir. I have fired since in that manner and have beenquite successful."

"What a cold wind!" resumed Athos; "a wintry blast. Apropos,if you fire - and you will do so, for you are recommendedto a young general who is very fond of powder - rememberthat in single combat, which often takes place in thecavalry, never to fire the first shot. He who fires thefirst shot rarely hits his man, for he fires with theapprehension of being disarmed, before an armed foe; then,whilst he fires, make your horse rear; that manoeuvre hassaved my life several times."

"I shall do so, if only in gratitude - - "

"Eh!" cried Athos, "are not those fellows poachers they havearrested yonder? They are. Then another important thing,Raoul: should you be wounded in a battle, and fall from yourhorse, if you have any strength left, disentangle yourselffrom the line that your regiment has formed; otherwise, itmay be driven back and you will be trampled to death by thehorses. At all events, should you be wounded, write to methat very instant, or get some one at once to write to me.We are judges of wounds, we old soldiers," Athos added,smiling.

"Thank you, sir," answered the young man, much moved.

They arrived that very moment at the gate of the town,guarded by two sentinels.

"Here comes a young gentleman," said one of them, "who seemsas if he were going to join the army."

"How do you make that out?" inquired Athos.

"By his manner, sir, and his age; he's the second to-day."

"Has a young man, such as I am, gone through this morning,then?" asked Raoul.

"Faith, yes, with a haughty presence, a fine equipage; suchas the son of a noble house would have."

"He will be my companion on the journey, sir," cried Raoul."Alas! he cannot make me forget what I shall have lost!"

Thus talking, they traversed the streets, full of people onaccount of the fete, and arrived opposite the old cathedral,where first mass was going on.

"Let us alight; Raoul," said Athos. "Olivain, take care ofour horses and give me my sword."

The two gentlemen then went into the church. Athos gaveRaoul some of the holy water. A love as tender as that of alover for his mistress dwells, undoubtedly, in some paternalhearts toward a son.

Athos said a word to one of the vergers, who bowed andproceeded toward the basement.

"Come, Raoul," he said, "let us follow this man."

The verger opened the iron grating that guarded the royaltombs and stood on the topmost step, whilst Athos and Raouldescended. The sepulchral depths of the descent were dimlylighted by a silver lamp on the lowest step; and just belowthis lamp there was laid, wrapped in a flowing mantle ofviolet velvet, worked with fleurs-de-lis of gold, acatafalque resting on trestles of oak. The young man,prepared for this scene by the state of his own feelings,which were mournful, and by the majesty of the cathedralwhich he had passed through, descended in a slow and solemnmanner and stood with head uncovered before these mortalspoils of the last king, who was not to be placed by theside of his forefathers until his successor should take hisplace there; and who appeared to abide on that spot, that hemight thus address human pride, so sure to be exalted by theglories of a throne: "Dust of the earth! Here I await thee!"

There was profound silence.

Then Athos raised his hand and pointing to the coffin:

"This temporary sepulture is," he said, "that of a man whowas of feeble mind, yet one whose reign was full of greatevents; because over this king watched the spirit of anotherman, even as this lamp keeps vigil over this coffin andillumines it. He whose intellect was thus supreme, Raoul,was the actual sovereign; the other, nothing but a phantomto whom he lent a soul; and yet, so powerful is majestyamongst us, this man has not even the honor of a tomb at thefeet of him in whose service his life was worn away.Remember, Raoul, this! If Richelieu made the king, bycomparison, seem small, he made royalty great. The Palace ofthe Louvre contains two things - the king, who must die,and royalty, which never dies. The minister, so feared, sohated by his master, has descended into the tomb, drawingafter him the king, whom he would not leave alone on earth,lest his work should be destroyed. So blind were hiscontemporaries that they regarded the cardinal's death as adeliverance; and I, even I, opposed the designs of the greatman who held the destinies of France within the hollow ofhis hand. Raoul, learn how to distinguish the king fromroyalty; the king is but a man; royalty is the gift of God.Whenever you hesitate as to whom you ought to serve, abandonthe exterior, the material appearance for the invisibleprinciple, for the invisible principle is everything. Raoul,I seem to read your future destiny as through a cloud. Itwill be happier, I think, than ours has been. Different inyour fate from us, you will have a king without a minister,whom you may serve, love, respect. Should the king prove atyrant, for power begets tyranny, serve, love, respectroyalty, that Divine right, that celestial spark which makesthis dust still powerful and holy, so that we - gentlemen,nevertheless, of rank and condition - are as nothing incomparison with the cold corpse there extended."

"I shall adore God, sir," said Raoul, "respect royalty andever serve the king. And if death be my lot, I hope to diefor the king, for royalty and for God. Have I, sir,comprehended your instructions?"

Athos smiled.

"Yours is a noble nature." he said; "here is your sword."

Raoul bent his knee to the ground.

"It was worn by my father, a loyal gentleman. I have worn itin my turn and it has sometimes not been disgraced when thehilt was in my hand and the sheath at my side. Should yourhand still be too weak to use this sword, Raoul, so much thebetter. You will have the more time to learn to draw it onlywhen it ought to be used."

"Sir," replied Raoul, putting the sword to his lips as hereceived it from the count, "I owe you everything and yetthis sword is the most precious gift you have yet made me. Iwill wear it, I swear to you, as a grateful man should do."

"'Tis well; arise, vicomte, embrace me."

Raoul arose and threw himself with emotion into the count'sarms.

"Adieu," faltered the count, who felt his heart die awaywithin him; "adieu, and think of me."

"Oh! for ever and ever!" cried the youth; "oh! I swear toyou, sir, should any harm befall me, your name will be thelast name that I shall utter, the remembrance of you my lastthought."

Athos hastened upstairs to conceal his emotion, and regainedwith hurried steps the porch where Olivain was waiting withthe horses.

"Olivain," said Athos, showing the servant Raoul'sshoulder-belt, "tighten the buckle of the sword, it fallstoo low. You will accompany monsieur le vicomte till Grimaudrejoins you. You know, Raoul, Grimaud is an old and zealousservant; he will follow you."

"Yes, sir," answered Raoul.

"Now to horse, that I may see you depart!"

Raoul obeyed.

"Adieu, Raoul," said the count; "adieu, my dearest boy!"

"Adieu, sir, adieu, my beloved protector."

Athos waved his hand - he dared not trust himself to speak:and Raoul went away, his head uncovered. Athos remainedmotionless, looking after him until he turned the corner ofthe street.

Then the count threw the bridle of his horse into the handsof a peasant, remounted the steps, went into the cathedral,there to kneel down in the darkest corner and pray.