mortal in my eyes; but as you tell me I am a prince, brother of a king,
how can you restore me the rank and power which my mother and my brother
have deprived me of? And as, to effect this, I must pass a life of war
and hatred, how will you make me prevail in those combats--render me
invulnerable to my enemies? Ah! monsieur, reflect upon this; place me,
to-morrow, in some dark cavern in a mountain's base; yield me the
delight of hearing in freedom the sounds of river and plain, of
beholding in freedom the sun of the blue heavens, or the stormy sky, and
it is enough. Promise me no more than this, for, indeed, more you cannot
give, and it would be a crime to deceive me, since you call yourself my
friend."

Aramis waited in silence. "Monseigneur," he resumed, after a moment's
reflection, "I admire the firm, sound sense which dictates your words;
I am happy to have discovered my monarch's mind."

"Again, again! oh! for mercy's sake," cried the prince, pressing his icy
hands upon his clammy brow, "do not play with me! I have no need to be a
king to be the happiest of men."

"But I, monseigneur, wish you to be a king for the good of humanity."

"Ah!" said the prince, with fresh distrust inspired by the word; "ah!
with what then has humanity to reproach my brother?"

"I forgot to say, monseigneur, that if you would allow me to guide you,
and if you consent to become the most powerful monarch on earth, you
will have promoted the interests of all the friends whom I devote to the
success of your cause, and these friends are numerous."

"Numerous?"

"Less numerous than powerful, monseigneur."

"Explain yourself."

"It is impossible; I will explain, I swear before Heaven, on that day
that I see you sitting on the throne of France."

"But my brother?"

"You shall decree his fate. Do you pity him?"

"Him, who leaves me to perish in a dungeon? No, I pity him not."

"So much the better."

"He might have himself come to this prison, have taken me by the hand
and have said, 'My brother, Heaven created us to love, not to contend
with one another. I come to you. A barbarous prejudice has condemned you
to pass your days in obscurity, far from all men, and deprived of every
joy. I will make you sit down beside me; I will buckle round your waist
our father's sword. Will you take advantage of this reconciliation to
put down or to restrain me? Will you employ that sword to spill my
blood?' 'Oh! never,' I would have replied to