means power; and you behold how
powerless I am."

"Monseigneur," answered Aramis, with a respect he had not yet
manifested, "the king, mark me, will, if you desire it, be the one that,
quitting his dungeon, shall maintain himself upon the throne, on which
his friends will place him."

"Tempt me not, monsieur," broke in the prisoner bitterly.

"Be not weak, monseigneur," persisted Aramis; "I have brought you all
the proofs of your birth; consult them; satisfy yourself that you are a
king's son; it is for _us_ to act."

"No, no; it is impossible."

"Unless, indeed," resumed the bishop ironically, "it be the destiny of
your race, that the brothers excluded from the throne should be always
princes void of courage and honesty, as was your uncle, M. Gaston
d'Orleans, who ten times conspired against his brother Louis XIII."

"What!" cried the prince, astonished; "my uncle Gaston 'conspired
against his brother'; conspired to dethrone him?"

"Exactly, monseigneur; for no other reason. I tell you the truth."

"And he had friends--devoted friends?"

"As much so as I am to you."

"And, after all, what did he do?--Failed!"

"He failed, I admit; but always through his own fault; and, for the
sake of purchasing--not his life--for the life of the king's brother is
sacred and inviolable--but his liberty, he sacrificed the lives of all
his friends, one after another. And so, at this day, he is a very
blot on history, the detestation of a hundred noble families in this
kingdom."

"I understand, monsieur; either by weakness or treachery, my uncle slew
his friends."

"By weakness; which, in princes, is always treachery."

"And cannot a man fail, then, from incapacity and ignorance? Do you
really believe it possible that a poor captive such as I, brought up,
not only at a distance from the court, but even from the world--do you
believe it possible that such a one could assist those of his friends
who should attempt to serve him?" And as Aramis was about to reply, the
young man suddenly cried out, with a violence which betrayed the temper
of his blood, "We are speaking of friends; but how can _I_ have any
friends--I, whom no one knows; and have neither liberty, money, nor
influence, to gain any?"

"I fancy I had the honor to offer myself to your royal highness."

"Oh, do not style me so, monsieur; 'tis either treachery or cruelty. Bid
me not think of aught beyond these prison-walls, which so grimly
confine me; let me agai