d from Louis XIV.'s face. This
sweat-bestained handkerchief terrified Philippe, as the blood of Abel
had terrified Cain.

"I am now face to face with my destiny," said Philippe, with his eyes on
fire, and his face lividly white. "Is it likely to be more terrifying
than my captivity has been sad and gloomy? When I am compelled to follow
out, at every moment, the sovereign power and authority I have usurped,
shall I never cease to listen to the scruples of my heart? Yes! the king
has lain on this bed: it is, indeed, his head that has left its
impression on this pillow; his bitter tears which have stained this
handkerchief; and yet, I hesitate to throw myself on the bed, or to
press in my hand the handkerchief which is embroidered with my brother's
arms. Away with this weakness; let me imitate M. d'Herblay, who asserts
that a man's action should be always one degree above his thought; let
me imitate M. d'Herblay, whose thoughts are of and for himself alone,
who regards himself as a man of honor, so long as he injures or betrays
his enemies only. I, I alone, should have occupied this bed, if Louis
XIV. had not, owing to my mother's criminal abandonment of me, stood in
my way; and this handkerchief, embroidered with the arms of France,
would, in right and justice, belong to me alone, if, as M. d'Herblay
observes, I had been left in my place in the royal cradle. Philippe, son
of France, take your place on that bed; Philippe, sole king of France,
resume the blazonry which is yours! Philippe, sole heir presumptive to
Louis XIII., your father, show yourself without pity or mercy for the
usurper who, at this moment, has not even to suffer the agony of the
remorse of all that you have had to submit to."

With these words, Philippe, notwithstanding an instinctive repugnance of
feeling, and in spite of the shudder of terror which mastered his will,
threw himself on the royal bed, and forced his muscles to press the
still warm place where Louis XIV. had lain, while he buried his burning
face in the handkerchief still moistened by his brother's tears. With
his head thrown back and buried in the soft down of his pillow, Philippe
perceived above him the crown of France, suspended, as we have stated,
by angels with outspread golden wings.

A man may be ambitious of lying in a lion's den, but can hardly hope to
sleep there quietly. Philippe listened attentively to every sound; his
heart panted and throbbed at the very suspicion of appro