oldest of the king's sons who succeeds his
father."

"I know it."

"And that the doctors and jurists assert that there is ground for
doubting whether he who first makes his appearance is the elder by the
law of Heaven and of nature."

The prisoner uttered a smothered cry, and became whiter than the
coverlet under which he hid himself.

"Now you understand," pursued Aramis, "that the king, who, with so much
pleasure, saw himself repeated in one, was in despair about two; fearing
that the second might dispute the first's claim to seniority, which had
been recognized only two hours before; and so this second son, relying
on party interests and caprices, might one day sow discord and engender
civil war in the kingdom; by these means destroying the very dynasty he
should have strengthened."

"Oh, I understand--I understand!" murmured the young man.

"Well," continued Aramis, "this is what they relate, what they declare;
this is why one of the queen's two sons, shamefully parted from his
brother, shamefully sequestered, is buried in the profoundest obscurity;
this is why that second son has disappeared, and so completely, that not
a soul in France, save his mother, is aware of his existence."

"Yes! his mother, who has cast him off!" cried the prisoner, in a tone
of despair.

"Except also," Aramis went on, "the lady in the black dress; and,
finally, excepting--"

"Excepting yourself--is it not? You, who come and relate all this; you,
who rouse in my soul curiosity, hatred, ambition, and, perhaps, even the
thirst of vengeance; except you, monsieur, who, if you are the man whom
I expect, whom the note I have received applies to; whom, in short,
Heaven ought to send me, must possess about you--"

"What?" asked Aramis.

"A portrait of the king, Louis XIV., who at this moment reigns upon the
throne of France."

"Here is the portrait," replied the bishop, handing the prisoner a
miniature in enamel, on which Louis was depicted life-like, with a
handsome, lofty mien. The prisoner eagerly seized the portrait, and
gazed at it with devouring eyes.

"And now, monseigneur," said Aramis, "here is a mirror." Aramis left the
prisoner time to recover his ideas.

"So high--so high!" murmured the young man, eagerly comparing the
likeness of Louis with his own countenance reflected in the glass.

"What do you think of it?" at length said Aramis.

"I think that I am lost," replied the captive; "the king will never set
me fre