Athos beheld the movement of his shoulders, which undulated convulsively; he heard the sobs which burst from his over-charged breast.

He was silent himself, suffocated by the flood of bitter remembrances he had just poured upon that royal head.

Charles II., with a violent effort, left the window, devoured his tears, and came and sat by Athos.

"Sire," said the latter, "I thought till to-day that the time had not yet arrived for the employment of that last resource; but, with my eyes fixed upon England, I felt it was approaching.

To-morrow I meant to go and inquire in what part of the world your majesty was, and then I purposed going to you.
You come to me, sire; that is an indication that God is with us." "My lord," said Charles, in a voice choked by emotion, "you are, for me, what an angel sent from heaven would be,--you are a preserver sent to me from the tomb of my father himself; but, believe me, for ten years' civil war has passed over my country, striking down men, tearing up soil, it is no more probable that gold should remain in the entrails of the earth, than love in the hearts of my subjects." "Sire, the spot in which his majesty buried the million is well known to me, and no one, I am sure, has been able to discover it.