And now our readers must leave the Standard to sailpeaceably, not toward London, where D'Artagnan and Porthosbelieved they were going, but to Durham, whither Mordaunthad been ordered to repair by the letter he had receivedduring his sojourn at Boulogne, and accompany us to theroyalist camp, on this side of the Tyne, near Newcastle.

There, placed between two rivers on the borders of Scotland,but still on English soil, the tents of a little armyextended. It was midnight. Some Highlanders were listlesslykeeping watch. The moon, which was partially obscured byheavy clouds, now and then lit up the muskets of thesentinels, or silvered the walls, the roofs, and the spiresof the town that Charles I. had just surrendered to theparliamentary troops, whilst Oxford and Newark still heldout for him in the hopes of coming to some arrangement.

At one of the extremities of the camp, near an immense tent,in which the Scottish officers were holding a kind ofcouncil, presided over by Lord Leven, their commander, a manattired as a cavalier lay sleeping on the turf, his righthand extended over his sword.

About fifty paces off, another man, also appareled as acavalier, was talking to a Scotch sentinel, and, though aforeigner, he seemed to understand without much difficultythe answers given in the broad Perthshire dialect.

As the town clock of Newcastle struck one the sleeper awoke,and with all the gestures of a man rousing himself out ofdeep sleep he looked attentively about him; perceiving thathe was alone he rose and making a little circuit passedclose to the cavalier who was speaking to the sentinel. Theformer had no doubt finished his questions, for a momentlater he said good-night and carelessly followed the samepath taken by the first cavalier.

In the shadow of a tent the former was awaiting him.

"Well, my dear friend?" said he, in as pure French as hasever been uttered between Rouen and Tours.

"Well, my friend, there is not a moment to lose; we must letthe king know immediately."

"Why, what is the matter?"

"It would take too long to tell you, besides, you will hearit all directly and the least word dropped here might ruinall. We must go and find Lord Winter."

They both set off to the other end of the camp, but as itdid not cover more than a surface of five hundred feet theyquickly arrived at the tent they were looking for.

"Tony, is your master sleeping?" said one of the twocavaliers to a servant who was lying in the outercompartment, which served as a kind of ante-room.

"No, monsieur le comte," answered the servant, "I think not;or at least he has not long been so, for he was pacing upand down for more than two hours after he left the king, andthe sound of his footsteps has only ceased during the lastten minutes. However, you may look and see," added thelackey, raising the curtained entrance of the tent.

Lord Winter was seated near an aperture, arranged as awindow to let in the night air, his eyes mechanicallyfollowing the course of the moon, intermittently veiled, aswe before observed, by heavy clouds. The two friendsapproached Winter, who, with his head on his hands, wasgazing at the heavens; he did not hear them enter andremained in the same attitude till he felt a hand upon hisshoulder.

He turned around, recognized Athos and Aramis and held outhis hand to them.

"Have you observed," said he to them, "what a blood-redcolor the moon has to-night?"

"No," replied Athos; "I thought it looked much the same asusual."

"Look, again, chevalier," returned Lord Winter.

"I must own," said Aramis, "I am like the Comte de la Fere- I can see nothing remarkable about it."

"My lord," said Athos, "in a position so precarious as ourswe must examine the earth and not the heavens. Have youstudied our Scotch troops and have you confidence in them?"

"The Scotch?" inquired Winter. "What Scotch?"

"Ours, egad!" exclaimed Athos. "Those in whom the king hasconfided - Lord Leven's Highlanders."

"No," said Winter, then he paused; "but tell me, can you notperceive the russet tint which marks the heavens?"

"Not the least in the world," said Aramis and Athos at once.

"Tell me," continued Winter, always possessed by the sameidea, "is there not a tradition in France that Henry IV.,the evening before the day he was assassinated, when he wasplaying at chess with M. de Bassompiere, saw clots of bloodupon the chessboard?"

"Yes," said Athos, "and the marechal has often told me sohimself."

"Then it was so," murmured Winter, "and the next day HenryIV. was killed."

"But what has this vision of Henry IV. to do with you, mylord?" inquired Aramis.

"Nothing; and indeed I am mad to trouble you with suchthings, when your coming to my tent at such an hourannounces that you are the bearers of important news."

"Yes, my lord," said Athos, "I wish to speak to the king."

"To the king! but the king is asleep."

"I have something important to reveal to him."

"Can it not be put off till to-morrow?"

"He must know it this moment, and perhaps it is already toolate."

"Come, then," said Lord Winter.

Lord Winter's tent was pitched by the side of the royalmarquee, a kind of corridor communicating between the two.This corridor was guarded, not by a sentinel, but by aconfidential servant, through whom, in case of urgency,Charles could communicate instantly with his faithfulsubject.

"These gentlemen are with me," said Winter.

The lackey bowed and let them pass. As he had said, on acamp bed, dressed in his black doublet, booted, unbelted,with his felt hat beside him, lay the king, overcome bysleep and fatigue. They advanced, and Athos, who was thefirst to enter, gazed a moment in silence on that pale andnoble face, framed in its long and now untidy, matted hair,the blue veins showing through the transparent temples, hiseyes seemingly swollen by tears.

Athos sighed deeply; the sigh woke the king, so lightly didhe sleep.

He opened his eyes.

"Ah!" said he, raising himself on his elbow, "is it you,Comte de la Fere?"

"Yes, sire," replied Athos.

"You watch while I sleep and you have come to bring me somenews?"

"Alas, sire," answered Athos, "your majesty has guessedaright."

"It is bad news?"

"Yes, sire."

"Never mind; the messenger is welcome. You never come to mewithout conferring pleasure. You whose devotion recognizesneither country nor misfortune, you who are sent to me byHenrietta; whatever news you bring, speak out."

"Sire, Cromwell has arrived this night at Newcastle."

"Ah!" exclaimed the king, "to fight?"

"No, sire, but to buy your majesty."

"What did you say?"

"I said, sire, that four hundred thousand pounds are owingto the Scottish army."

"For unpaid wages; yes, I know it. For the last year myfaithful Highlanders have fought for honor alone."

Athos smiled.

"Well, sir, though honor is a fine thing, they are tired offighting for it, and to-night they have sold you for twohundred thousand pounds - that is to say, for half what isowing them."

"Impossible!" cried the king, "the Scotch sell their kingfor two hundred thousand pounds! And who is the Judas whohas concluded this infamous bargain?"

"Lord Leven."

"Are you certain of it, sir?"

"I heard it with my own ears."

The king sighed deeply, as if his heart would break, andthen buried his face in his hands.

"Oh! the Scotch," he exclaimed, "the Scotch I called `myfaithful,' to whom I trusted myself when I could have fledto Oxford! the Scotch, my brothers! But are you wellassured, sir?"

"Lying behind the tent of Lord Leven, I raised it and sawall, heard all!"

"And when is this to be consummated?"

"To-day - this morning; so your majesty must perceive thereis no time to lose!"

"To do what? since you say I am sold."

"To cross the Tyne, reach Scotland and rejoin Lord Montrose,who will not sell you."

"And what shall I do in Scotland? A war of partisans,unworthy of a king."

"The example of Robert Bruce will absolve you, sire."

"No, no! I have fought too long; they have sold me, theyshall give me up, and the eternal shame of treble treasonshall fall on their heads."

"Sire," said Athos, "perhaps a king should act thus, but nota husband and a father. I have come in the name of your wifeand daughter and of the children you have still in London,and I say to you, `Live, sire,' - it is the will ofHeaven."

The king raised himself, buckled on his belt, and passinghis handkerchief over his moist forehead, said:

"Well, what is to be done?"

"Sire, have you in the army one regiment on which you canimplicitly rely?"

"Winter," said the king, "do you believe in the fidelity ofyours?"

"Sire, they are but men, and men are become both weak andwicked. I will not answer for them. I would confide my lifeto them, but I should hesitate ere I trusted them with yourmajesty's."

"Well!" said Athos, "since you have not a regiment, we arethree devoted men. It is enough. Let your majesty mount onhorseback and place yourself in the midst of us; we willcross the Tyne, reach Scotland, and you will be saved."

"Is this your counsel also, Winter?" inquired the king.

"Yes, sire."

"And yours, Monsieur d'Herblay?"

"Yes, sire."

"As you wish, then. Winter, give the necessary orders."

Winter then left the tent; in the meantime the king finishedhis toilet. The first rays of daybreak penetrated theaperture of the tent as Winter re-entered it.

"All is ready, sire," said he.

"For us, also?" inquired Athos.

"Grimaud and Blaisois are holding your horses, readysaddled."

"In that case," exclaimed Athos, "let us not lose aninstant, but set off."

"Come," added the king.

"Sire," said Aramis, "will not your majesty acquaint some ofyour friends of this?"

"Friends!" answered Charles, sadly, "I have but three - oneof twenty years, who has never forgotten me, and two of aweek's standing, whom I shall never forget. Come, gentlemen,come!"

The king quitted his tent and found his horse ready waitingfor him. It was a chestnut that the king had ridden forthree years and of which he was very fond.

The horse neighed with pleasure at seeing him.

"Ah!" said the king, "I was unjust; here is a creature thatloves me. You at least will be faithful to me, Arthur."

The horse, as if it understood these words, bent its rednostrils toward the king's face, and parting his lipsdisplayed all its teeth, as if with pleasure.

"Yes, yes," said the king, caressing it with his hand, "yes,my Arthur, thou art a fond and faithful creature."

After this little scene Charles threw himself into thesaddle, and turning to Athos, Aramis and Winter, said:

"Now, gentlemen, I am at your service."

But Athos was standing with his eyes fixed on a black linewhich bordered the banks of the Tyne and seemed to extenddouble the length of the camp.

"What is that line?" cried Athos, whose vision was stillrather obscured by the uncertain shades and demi-tints ofdaybreak. "What is that line? I did not observe ityesterday."

"It must be the fog rising from the river," said the king.

"Sire, it is something more opaque than the fog."

"Indeed!" said Winter, "it appears to me like a bar of redcolor."

"It is the enemy, who have made a sortie from Newcastle andare surrounding us!" exclaimed Athos.

"The enemy!" cried the king.

"Yes, the enemy. It is too late. Stop a moment; does notthat sunbeam yonder, just by the side of the town, glitteron the Ironsides?"

This was the name given the cuirassiers, whom Cromwell hadmade his body-guard.

"Ah!" said the king, "we shall soon see whether myHighlanders have betrayed me or not."

"What are you going to do?" exclaimed Athos.

"To give them the order to charge, and run down thesemiserable rebels."

And the king, putting spurs to his horse, set off to thetent of Lord Leven.

"Follow him," said Athos.

"Come!" exclaimed Aramis.

"Is the king wounded?" cried Lord Winter. "I see spots ofblood on the ground." And he set off to follow the twofriends.

He was stopped by Athos.

"Go and call out your regiment," said he; "I can foreseethat we shall have need of it directly."

Winter turned his horse and the two friends rode on. It hadtaken but two minutes for the king to reach the tent of theScottish commander; he dismounted and entered.

The general was there, surrounded by the more prominentchiefs.

"The king!" they exclaimed, as all rose in bewilderment.

Charles was indeed in the midst of them, his hat on hishead, his brows bent, striking his boot with his ridingwhip.

"Yes, gentlemen, the king in person, the king who has cometo ask for some account of what has happened."

"What is the matter, sire?" exclaimed Lord Leven.

"It is this, sir," said the king, angrily, "that GeneralCromwell has reached Newcastle; that you knew it and I wasnot informed of it; that the enemy have left the town andare now closing the passages of the Tyne against us; thatour sentinels have seen this movement and I have been leftunacquainted with it; that, by an infamous treaty you havesold me for two hundred thousand pounds to Parliament. Ofthis treaty, at least, I have been warned. This is thematter, gentlemen; answer and exculpate yourselves, for Istand here to accuse you."

"Sire," said Lord Leven, with hesitation, "sire, yourmajesty has been deceived by false reports."

"My own eyes have seen the enemy extend itself betweenmyself and Scotland; and I can almost say that with my ownears I have heard the clauses of the treaty debated."

The Scotch chieftains looked at each other in their turnwith frowning brows.

"Sire," murmured Lord Leven, crushed by shame, "sire, we areready to give you every proof of our fidelity."

"I ask but one," said the king; "put the army in battlearray and face the enemy."

"That cannot be, sire," said the earl.

"How, cannot be? What hinders it?" exclaimed the king.

"Your majesty is well aware that there is a truce between usand the English army."

"And if there is a truce the English army has broken it byquitting the town, contrary to the agreement which kept itthere. Now, I tell you, you must pass with me through thisarmy across to Scotland, and if you refuse you may choosebetwixt two names, which the contempt of all honest men willbrand you with - you are either cowards or traitors!"

The eyes of the Scotch flashed fire; and, as often happenson such occasions, from shame they passed to effrontery andtwo heads of clans advanced upon the king.

"Yes," said they, "we have promised to deliver Scotland andEngland from him who for the last five-and-twenty years hassucked the blood and gold of Scotland and England. We havepromised and we will keep our promise. Charles Stuart, youare our prisoner."

And both extended their hands as if to seize the king, butbefore they could touch him with the tips of their fingers,both had fallen, one dead, the other stunned.

Aramis had passed his sword through the body of the firstand Athos had knocked down the other with the butt end ofhis pistol.

Then, as Lord Leven and the other chieftains recoiled beforethis unexpected rescue, which seemed to come from Heaven forthe prince they already thought was their prisoner, Athosand Aramis dragged the king from the perjured assembly intowhich he had so imprudently ventured, and throwingthemselves on horseback all three returned at full gallop tothe royal tent.

On their road they perceived Lord Winter marching at thehead of his regiment. The king motioned him to accompanythem.