"My lord," said the Comte de la Fere, "you are a noble Englishman, youare a loyal man; you are speaking to a noble Frenchman, to a man ofheart. The gold contained in these two casks before us, I have told youwas 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 CharlesII., exiled from his country, driven from his palaces, the orphan atonce of his father and his throne, and deprived of everything, even ofthe melancholy happiness of kissing on his knees the stone upon whichthe hands of his murderers have written that simple epitaph which willeternally cry out for vengeance upon them:--'Here lies Charles I.'"
Monk grew slightly pale, and an imperceptible shudder crept over hisskin and raised his gray mustache.
"I," continued Athos, "I, Comte de la Fere, the last, only faithfulfriend the poor abandoned prince has left, I have offered him to comehither to find the man upon whom now depends the fate of royalty and ofEngland; and I have come, and placed myself under the eye of this man,and have placed myself naked and unarmed in his hands, saying:--'Mylord, 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 lifeand his future. Will you employ this money in consoling England for theevils 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 defeatsthe work of time and God. I am here alone with you, my lord: if dividedsuccess 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 ofyour cause carries you away, if you are what you appear to be, if yourhand in what it undertakes obeys your mind, and your mind your heart,here are the means of ruining forever the cause of your enemy, CharlesStuart. Kill, then, the man you have before you, for that man will neverreturn to him who has sent him without bearing with him the depositwhich Charles I., his father, confided to him, and keep the gold whichmay assist in carrying on the civil war. Alas! my lord, it is thefate of this unfortunate prince. He must either corrupt or kill, foreverything resists him, everything repulses him, everything is hostileto him; and yet he is marked with the divine seal, and he must, not tobelie his blood, reascend the throne, or die upon the sacred soil of hiscountry.'
"My lord, you have heard me. To any other but the illustrious man wholistens to me, I would have said: 'My lord, you are poor; my lord, theking offers you this million as an earnest of an immense bargain; takeit, and serve Charles II. as I served Charles I., and I feel assuredthat God, who listens to us, who sees us, who alone reads in yourheart, shut from all human eyes,--I am assured God will give you ahappy eternal life after a happy death.' But to General Monk, to theillustrious man of whose standard I believe I have taken measure, Isay: 'My lord, there is for you in the history of peoples and kings abrilliant place, an immortal, imperishable glory, if alone, withoutany other interest but the good of your country and the interests ofjustice, you become the supporter of your king. Many others have beenconquerors and glorious usurpers; you, my lord, you will be content withbeing the most virtuous, the most honest, and the most incorruptible ofmen: you will have held a crown in your hand, and instead of placing itupon your own brow, you will have deposited it upon the head of him forwhom it was made. Oh, my lord, act thus, and you will leave to posteritythe most enviable of names, in which no human creature can rival you.'"
Athos stopped. During the whole time that the noble gentleman wasspeaking, Monk had not given one sign of either approbation ordisapprobation; scarcely even, during this vehement appeal, had his eyesbeen animated with that fire which bespeaks intelligence. The Comtede la Fere looked at him sorrowfully, and on seeing that melancholycountenance, felt discouragement penetrate to his very heart. At lengthMonk appeared to recover, and broke the silence.
"Monsieur," said he, in a mild, calm tone, "in reply to you, I willmake use of your own words. To any other but yourself I would reply byexpulsion, imprisonment, or still worse, for, in fact, you tempt me andyou 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. Youjust now spoke of a deposit which the late king transmitted through youto 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 theexecution; I, who had not been able to redeem it, received upon my browthe blood of the martyred king. I received, at the same time, the lastword 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 tohave, in the first place, appreciated you by my own observations, andnot by my remembrances. I will give you, then, explanations that I havegiven to no other, and you will appreciate what a distinction I makebetween you and the persons who have hitherto been sent to me."
Athos bowed, and prepared to absorb greedily the words which fell, oneby one, from the mouth of Monk,--those words rare and precious as thedew in the desert.
"You spoke to me," said Monk, "of Charles II.; but pray, monsieur, ofwhat consequence to me is that phantom of a king? I have grown old in awar 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 hisambition with a personal interest, and not blindly behind an officer, asin 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 ofevery Englishman. How can you expect that I, free in the position Ihave made for myself, should go willingly and hold out my hands to theshackles of a stranger? That is all Charles is to me. He has foughtbattles here which he has lost, he is therefore a bad captain; he hassucceeded in no negotiation, he is therefore a bad diplomatist; he hasparaded his wants and his miseries in all the courts of Europe, he hastherefore a weak and pusillanimous heart. Nothing noble, nothing great,nothing strong has hitherto emanated from that genius which aspires togovern 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 goodsense, to go and make myself gratuitously the slave of a creature whois inferior to me in military capacity, in politics, and in dignity! No,monsieur. When some great and noble action shall have taught me to valueCharles, I shall perhaps recognize his rights to a throne from whichwe have cast the father because he wanted the virtues which his son hashitherto lacked, but, in fact of rights, I only recognize my own; therevolution made me a general, my sword will make me protector, if I wishit. Let Charles show himself, let him present himself, let him enter thecompetition open to genius, and, above all, let him remember that heis 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 toventure to urge the discussion further; it was neither the time nor theplace. "My lord," then said he, "I have nothing to do but to 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 Charleswill serve me as a test for him, by seeing the use he will make of it. Ishall have an opinion which now I have not."
"And yet does not your honor fear to compromise yourself by allowingsuch 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 serviceof the parliament, which orders me to fight General Lambert and CharlesStuart--its enemies, and not mine. I fight them. If the parliament, onthe 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?" crie
d Athos, joyfully.
"Pardon me," said Monk, smiling, "I was going--I, a gray-headed man--intruth, how could I forget myself? was going to speak like a foolishyoung man."
"Then you would not obey?" said Athos.
"I do not say that either, monsieur. The welfare of my country beforeeverything. God, who has given me the power, has, no doubt, willed thatI 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 athing, I should reflect."
The brow of Athos became clouded. "Then I may positively say that yourhonor is not inclined to favor King Charles II.?"
"You continue to question me, monsieur le comte; allow me to do so inturn, if you please."
"Do, monsieur; and may God inspire you with the idea of replying to meas frankly as I shall reply to you."
"When you shall have taken this money back to your prince, what advicewill you give him?"
Athos fixed upon Monk a proud and resolute look.
"My lord," said he, "with this million, which others would perhapsemploy in negotiating, I would advise the king to raise two regiments,to enter Scotland, which you have just pacified: to give to the peoplethe franchises which the revolution promised them, and in which it hasnot, in all cases, 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 thethird king of my race you have killed; beware of the justice of God!'"
Monk hung down his head, and mused for an instant. "If he succeeded,"said he, "which is very improbable, but not impossible--for everythingis possible in this world--what would you advise him to do?"
"To think that by the will of God he lost his crown but by the good willof men he recovered it."
An ironical smile passed over the lips of Monk.
"Unfortunately, monsieur," said he, "kings do not know how to followgood advice."
"Ah, my lord, Charles II. is not a king," replied Athos, smiling in histurn, but with a very different expression from Monk.
"Let us terminate this, monsieur le comte,--that is your desire, is itnot?"
Athos bowed.
"I shall give orders to have these two casks transported whither youplease. 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-makers occupy it with me;it is their bark which brought me ashore."
"But your own vessel, monsieur?"
"My vessel is at anchor, a quarter of a mile at sea, and waits 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 of consequence that youshould depart from Newcastle without leaving of your passage the leastsuspicion that might prove injurious to me or you. To-morrow my officersthink Lambert will attack me. I, on the contrary, am convinced that hewill not stir; it is in my opinion impossible. Lambert leads an armydevoid of homogeneous principles, and there is no possible army withsuch elements. I have taught my soldiers to consider my authoritysubordinate to another, therefore after me, round me, and beneath methey still look for something. It would result that if I were dead,whatever might happen, my army would not be demoralized all at once;it results, that if I choose to absent myself, for instance, as it doesplease me to do sometimes, there would not be in the camp the shadowof uneasiness or disorder. I am the magnet--the sympathetic and naturalstrength of the English. All those scattered irons that will be sentagainst me I shall attract to myself. Lambert, at this moment, commandseighteen thousand deserters, but I have never mentioned that to myofficers, you may easily suppose. Nothing is more useful to an army thanthe expectation of a coming battle; everybody is awake--everybody is onguard. I tell you this that you may live in perfect security. Do notbe in a hurry, then, to cross the seas; within a week there will besomething fresh, either a battle or an accomodation. Then, as you havejudged me to be a honorable man, and confided your secret to me, I haveto thank you for this confidence, and I shall come and pay you avisit or send 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 inspite of all his circumspection, he could not prevent its sparkling inhis eyes.
Monk surprised this flash, and immediately extinguished it by one ofthose silent smiles which always caused his interlocutors to know theyhad 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, I beseech you.I know the French delight in such amusements,--you might take a fancy tosee how we fight, and you might receive some chance shot. Our Scotchmenare very bad marksmen, and I do not wish that a worthy gentleman likeyou should return to France wounded. Nor should I like to be obligedmyself, to send to your prince his million left here by you, for then itwould be said, and with some reason, that I paid the Pretender to enablehim to make war against the parliament. Go, then, monsieur, and let itbe done as has been agreed upon."
"Ah, my lord," said Athos, "what joy it would give me to be the firstthat penetrated to the noble heart which beats beneath that cloak!"
"You think, then, that I have secrets," said Monk, without changing thehalf cheerful expression of his countenance. "Why, monsieur, whatsecret can you expect to find in the hollow head of a soldier? But it isgetting late, and our torch 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 a hoarsevoice, asking what they wanted of him.
"Go to the post," said Monk, "and order a sergeant, in the name ofGeneral Monk, to come here immediately."
This was a commission easily performed; for the sergeant, uneasy at thegeneral's being in that desolate abbey, had drawn nearer by degrees,and was not much further off than the fisherman. The general's order wastherefore heard by him, 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 horse with apack-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 him from 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 other balls; I wishthese casks to be transported to the little hamlet at the mouth of theriver, and which I intend to occupy to-morrow with two hundred muskets.You understand that 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 thembe escorted by two men and you to the residence of this gentleman, whois my friend. But take care that nobody knows it."
"I would go by the marsh if I knew the road," said the sergeant.
"I know one myself," said Athos; "it is not wide, but it is solid,having been made upon piles; and with care we shall get over safelyenough."
"Do everything this gentleman shall order you to do."
"Oh! oh! the casks are heavy," said the sergeant, trying to lift one.
"They weigh four hundred pounds each, if they contain what they ought tocontain, do they not, monsieur?"
"Thereabouts," said Athos.
The sergeant went in search of the two men and the horse. Monk, leftalone with Athos, affected to speak to him on nothing but indifferentsubjects while examining the vault in a cursory manner. Then, hearingthe horse's steps,--
"I leave you with your men, monsieur," said he, "and return to 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 of that." Andbowing to Athos, he went up the stairs, meeting about half-way his men,who were coming down. He had not gone twenty paces, when a faint butprolonged whistle was heard at a distance. Monk listened, but seeingnothing and hearing nothing, he continued his route, Then he rememberedthe fisherman, and looked about for him; but the fisherman haddisappeared. If he had, however, looked with more attention, he mighthave seen that man, bent double, gliding like a serpent along the stonesand losing himself in the mist that floated over the surface of themarsh. He might have equally seen, had he attempted to pierce that mist,a spectacle that might have attracted his attention; and that was therigging of the vessel, which had changed place, and was now nearer theshore. But Monk saw nothing; and thinking he had nothing to fear, heentered the deserted causeway which led to his camp. It was then thatthe disappearance of the fisherman appeared strange, and that a realsuspicion began to take possession of his mind. He had just placed atthe orders of Athos the only post that could protect him. He had amile of causeway to traverse before he could regain his camp. The fogincreased with such intensity that he could scarcely distinguish objectsat ten paces' distance. Monk then thought he heard the sound of an oarover the marsh on the right. "Who goes there?" said he.
But nobody answered; then he cocked his pistol, took his sword in hishand, and quickened his pace without, however, being willing to callanybody. Such a summons, for which there was no absolute necessity,appeared unworthy of him.
CHAPTER 27. The Next Day