"My lord," said the Comte de la Fere, "you are a nobleEnglishman, you are a loyal man; you are speaking to a nobleFrenchman, to a man of heart. The gold contained in thesetwo casks before us, I have told you was mine. I was wrong- it is the first lie I have pronounced in my life, atemporary lie, it is true. This gold is the property of KingCharles II., exiled from his country, driven from hispalaces, the orphan at once of his father and his throne,and deprived of everything, even of the melancholy happinessof kissing on his knees the stone upon which the hands ofhis murderers have written that simple epitaph which willeternally cry out for vengeance upon them: - `Here liesCharles I.'"

Monk grew slightly pale, and an imperceptible shudder creptover his skin and raised his gray mustache.

"I," continued Athos, "I, Comte de la Fere, the last, onlyfaithful friend the poor abandoned prince has left, I haveoffered him to come hither to find the man upon whom nowdepends the fate of royalty and of England; and I have come,and placed myself under the eye of this man, and have placedmyself naked and unarmed in his hands, saying: - `My lord,here are the last resources of a prince whom God made yourmaster, whom his birth made your king; upon you, and youalone, depend his life and his future. Will you employ thismoney in consoling England for the evils it must havesuffered from anarchy; that is to say, will you aid, and ifnot aid, will you allow King Charles II. to act? You aremaster, you are king, all-powerful master and king, forchance sometimes defeats the work of time and God. I am herealone with you, my lord: if divided success alarms you, ifmy complicity annoys you, you are armed, my lord, and hereis a grave ready dug; if, on the contrary, the enthusiasm ofyour cause carries you away, if you are what you appear tobe, if your hand in what it undertakes obeys your mind, .andyour mind your heart, here are the means of ruining foreverthe cause of your enemy, Charles Stuart. Kill, then, the manyou have before you, for that man will never return to himwho has sent him without bearing with him the deposit whichCharles I., his father, confided to him, and keep the goldwhich may assist in carrying on the civil war. Alas! mylord, it is the fate of this unfortunate prince. He musteither corrupt or kill, for everything resists him,everything repulses him, everything is hostile to him; andyet he is marked with the divine seal, and he must, not tobelie his blood, reascend the throne, or die upon the sacredsoil of his country.'

"My lord, you have heard me. To any other but theillustrious man who listens to me, I would have said: `Mylord, you are poor; my lord, the king offers you thismillion as an earnest of an immense bargain; take it, andserve Charles II. as I served Charles I., and I feel assuredthat God, who listens to us, who sees us, who alone reads inyour heart, shut from all human eyes, - I am assured Godwill give you a happy eternal life after a happy death.' Butto General Monk, to the illustrious man of whose standard Ibelieve I have taken measure, I say: `My lord, there is foryou in the history of peoples and kings a brilliant place,an immortal, imperishable glory, if alone, without any otherinterest but the good of your country and the interests ofjustice, you become the supporter of your king. Many othershave been conquerors and glorious usurpers; you, my lord,you will be content with being the most virtuous, the mosthonest, and the most incorruptible of men: you will haveheld a crown in your hand, and instead of placing it uponyour own brow, you will have deposited it upon the head ofhim for whom it was made. Oh, my lord, act thus, and youwill leave to posterity the most enviable of names, in whichno human creature can rival you.'"

Athos stopped. During the whole time that the noblegentleman was speaking, Monk had not given one sign ofeither approbation or disapprobation; scarcely even, duringthis vehement appeal, had his eyes been animated with thatfire which bespeaks intelligence. The Comte de la Ferelooked at him sorrowfully, and on seeing that melancholycountenance, felt discouragement penetrate to his veryheart. At length Monk appeared to recover, and broke thesilence.

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

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

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

Athos bowed, and prepared to absorb greedily the words whichfell, one by one, from the mouth of Monk, - those wordsrare 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 aking? I have grown old in a war and in a policy which arenowadays so closely linked together, that every man of thesword must fight in virtue of his rights or his ambitionwith 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 ofEngland, and, perhaps, that of every Englishman. How can youexpect that I, free in the position I have made for myself,should go willingly and hold out my hands to the shackles ofa stranger? That is all Charles is to me. He has foughtbattles here which he has lost, he is therefore a badcaptain; he has succeeded in no negotiation, he is thereforea bad diplomatist; he has paraded his wants and his miseriesin all the courts of Europe, he has therefore a weak andpusillanimous heart. Nothing noble, nothing great, nothingstrong has hitherto emanated from that genius which aspiresto govern one of the greatest kingdoms of the earth. I knowthis Charles, then, under none but bad aspects, and youwould wish me, a man of good sense, to go and make myselfgratuitously the slave of a creature who is inferior to mein military capacity, in politics, and in dignity! No,monsieur. When some great and noble action shall have taughtme to value Charles, I shall perhaps recognize his rights toa throne from which we have cast the father because hewanted the virtues which his son has hitherto lacked, but,in fact of rights, I only recognize my own; the revolutionmade me a general, my sword will make me protector, if Iwish it. Let Charles show himself, let him present himself,let him enter the competition open to genius, and, aboveall, let him remember that he is of a race from whom morewill be expected than from any other. Therefore, monsieur,say no more about him. I neither refuse nor accept: Ireserve myself - I wait."

Athos knew Monk to be too well informed of all concerningCharles to venture to urge the discussion further; it wasneither the time nor the place. "My lord," then said he, "Ihave nothing to do but to thank you."

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

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

"My enemy, say you? Eh, monsieur, I have no enemies. I am inthe service of the parliament, which orders me to fightGeneral Lambert and Charles Stuart - its enemies, and notmine. I fight them. If the parliament, on the contrary,ordered me to unfurl my standards on the port of London, andto assemble my soldiers on the banks to receive Charles II.- - "

"You would obey?" cried Athos, joyfully.

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

"Then you would not obey?" said Athos.

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

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

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

"Do, monsieur; and may God inspire you with the idea ofreplying to me as frankly as I shall reply to you."

"When you shall have taken this money back to your prince,what advice will you give him?"

Athos fixed upon Monk a proud and resolute look.

"My lord," said he, "with this million, which others wouldperhaps employ in negotiating, I would advise the king toraise two regiments, to enter Scotland, which you have justpacified: to give to the people the franchises which therevolution promised them, and in which it has not, in allcases, kept its word. I should advise him to command inperson this little army, which would, believe me, increase,and to die, standard in hand, and sword in its sheath,saying, `Englishmen! I am the third king of my race you havekilled; beware of the justice of God!'"

Monk hung down his head, and mused for an instant. "If hesucceeded," said he, "which is very improbable, but notimpossible - for everything is possible in this world - what would you advise him to do?"

"To think that by the will of God he lost his crown but bythe good will of men he recovered it."

An ironical smile passed over the lips of Monk.

"Unfortunately, monsieur," said he, "kings do not know howto follow good advice."

"Ah, my lord, Charles II. is not a king," replied Athos,smiling in his turn, but with a very different expressionfrom Monk.

"Let us terminate this, monsieur le comte, - that is yourdesire, is it not?"

Athos bowed.

"I shall give orders to have these two casks transportedwhither you please. Where are you lodging, monsieur?"

"In a little hamlet at the mouth of the river, your honor."

"Oh, I know the hamlet; it consists of five or six houses,does it not?"

"Exactly. Well, I inhabit the first, - two net-makersoccupy it with me; it is their bark which brought meashore."

"But your own vessel, monsieur?"

"My vessel is at anchor, a quarter of a mile at sea, andwaits for me."

"You do not think, however, of setting out immediately?"

"My lord, I shall try once more to convince your honor."

"You will not succeed," replied Monk; "but it is ofconsequence that you should depart from Newcastle withoutleaving of your passage the least suspicion that might proveinjurious to me or you. To-morrow my officers think Lambertwill attack me. I, on the contrary, am convinced that hewill not stir; it is in my opinion impossible. Lambert leadsan army devoid of homogeneous principles, and there is nopossible army with such elements. I have taught my soldiersto consider my authority subordinate to another, thereforeafter me, round me, and beneath me they still look forsomething. It would result that if I were dead, whatevermight happen, my army would not be demoralized all at once;it results, that if I choose to absent myself, for instance,as it does please me to do sometimes, there would not be inthe camp the shadow of uneasiness or disorder. I am themagnet - the sympathetic and natural strength of theEnglish. All those scattered irons that will be sent againstme I shall attract to myself. Lambert, at this moment,commands eighteen thousand deserters, but I have nevermentioned that to my officers, you may easily suppose.Nothing is more useful to an army than the expectation of acoming battle; everybody is awake - everybody is on guard.I tell you this that you may live in perfect security. Donot be in a hurry, then, to cross the seas; within a weekthere will be something fresh, either a battle or anaccomodation. Then, as you have judged me to be a honorableman, and confided your secret to me, I have to thank you forthis confidence, and I shall come and pay you a visit orsend for you. Do not go before I send you word. I repeat therequest."

"I promise you, general," cried Athos, with a joy so great,that in spite of all his circumspection, he could notprevent its sparkling in his eyes.

Monk surprised this flash, and immediately extinguished itby one of those silent smiles which always caused hisinterlocutors to know they had made no inroad on his mind.

"Then, my lord, it is a week that you desire me to wait?"

"A week? yes, monsieur."

"And during these days what shall I do?"

"If there should be a battle, keep at a distance from it, Ibeseech you. I know the French delight in such amusements,- you might take a fancy to see how we fight, and you mightreceive some chance shot. Our Scotchmen are very badmarksmen, and I do not wish that a worthy gentleman like youshould return to France wounded. Nor should I like to beobliged myself, to send to your prince his million left hereby you, for then it would be said, and with some reason,that I paid the Pretender to enable him to make war againstthe parliament. Go, then, monsieur, and let it be done ashas been agreed upon."

"Ah, my lord," said Athos, "what joy it would give me to bethe first that penetrated to the noble heart which beatsbeneath that cloak!"

"You think, then, that I have secrets," said Monk, withoutchanging the half cheerful expression of his countenance."Why, monsieur, what secret can you expect to find in thehollow head of a soldier? But it is getting late, and ourtorch is almost out; let us call our man."

"Hola!" cried Monk in French, approaching the stairs; "hola!fisherman!"

The fisherman, benumbed by the cold night air, replied in ahoarse voice, asking what they wanted of him.

"Go to the post," said Monk, "and order a sergeant, in thename of General Monk, to come here immediately."

This was a commission easily performed; for the sergeant,uneasy at the general's being in that desolate abbey, haddrawn nearer by degrees, and was not much further off thanthe fisherman. The general's order was therefore heard byhim, and he hastened to obey it.

"Get a horse and two men," said Monk.

"A horse and two men?" repeated the sergeant.

"Yes," replied Monk. "Have you any means of getting a horsewith a pack-saddle or two paniers?"

"No doubt, at a hundred paces off, in the Scotch camp."

"Very well."

"What shall I do with the horse, general?"

"Look here."

The sergeant descended the three steps which separated himfrom Monk, and came into the vault.

"You see," said Monk, "that gentleman yonder?"

"Yes, general."

"And you see these two casks?"

"Perfectly."

"They are two casks, one containing powder, and the otherballs; I wish these casks to be transported to the littlehamlet at the mouth of the river, and which I intend tooccupy to-morrow with two hundred muskets. You understandthat the commission is a secret one, for it is a movementthat may decide the fate of the battle."

"Oh, general!" murmured the sergeant.

"Mind, then! Let these casks be fastened on to the horse,and let them be escorted by two men and you to the residenceof this gentleman, who is my friend. But take care thatnobody knows it."

"I would go by the marsh if I knew the road," said thesergeant.

"I know one myself," said Athos; "it is not wide, but it issolid, having been made upon piles; and with care we shallget over safely enough."

"Do everything this gentleman shall order you to do."

"Oh! oh! the casks are heavy," said the sergeant, trying tolift one.

"They weigh four hundred pounds each, if they contain whatthey ought to contain, do they not, monsieur?"

"Thereabouts," said Athos.

The sergeant went in search of the two men and the horse.Monk, left alone with Athos, affected to speak to him onnothing but indifferent subjects while examining the vaultin a cursory manner. Then, hearing the horse's steps, -

"I leave you with your men, monsieur," said he, "and returnto the camp. You are perfectly safe."

"I shall see you again, then, my lord?" asked Athos.

"That is agreed upon, monsieur, and with much pleasure."

Monk held out his hand to Athos.

"Ah! my lord, if you would!" murmured Athos.

"Hush! monsieur, it is agreed that we shall speak no more ofthat." And bowing to Athos, he went up the stairs, meetingabout half-way his men, who were coming down. He had notgone twenty paces, when a faint but prolonged whistle washeard at a distance. Monk listened, but seeing nothing andhearing nothing, he continued his route, Then he rememberedthe fisherman, and looked about for him; but the fishermanhad disappeared. If he had, however, looked with moreattention, he might have seen that man, bent double, glidinglike a serpent along the stones and losing himself in themist that floated over the surface of the marsh. He mighthave equally seen, had he attempted to pierce that mist, aspectacle that might have attracted his attention; and thatwas the rigging of the vessel, which had changed place, andwas now nearer the shore. But Monk saw nothing; and thinkinghe had nothing to fear, he entered the deserted causewaywhich led to his camp. It was then that the disappearance ofthe fisherman appeared strange, and that a real suspicionbegan to take possession of his mind. He had just placed atthe orders of Athos the only post that could protect him. Hehad a mile of causeway to traverse before he could regainhis camp. The fog increased with such intensity that hecould scarcely distinguish objects at ten paces' distance.Monk then thought he heard the sound of an oar over themarsh on the right. "Who goes there?" said he.

But nobody answered; then he cocked his pistol, took hissword in his hand, and quickened his pace without, however,being willing to call anybody. Such a summons, for whichthere was no absolute necessity, appeared unworthy of him.