imply deceived, that is nothing: but to look at him,
it is a great deal."

"At a distance, and with Miss Grafton's aid, the blow will be warded
off."

"Far from it, far from it; neither distance nor Miss Grafton's help will
be of the slightest avail. Bragelonne will set off for Paris within an
hour's time."

Buckingham started, and Miss Stewart opened her eyes very wide in
astonishment.

"But, sire," said the duke, "your majesty knows that it is impossible."

"That is to say, my dear Buckingham, that it is impossible until the
contrary happens."

"Do not forget, sire, that the young man is a perfect lion, and that his
wrath is terrible?"

"I don't deny it, my dear duke."

"And that if he sees that his misfortune is certain, so much the worse
for the author of it."

"I don't deny it; but what the deuce am I to do?"

"Were it the king himself," cried Buckingham, "I would not answer for
him."

"Oh, the king has his musketeers to take care of him," said Charles,
quietly; "I know that perfectly well, for I was kept dancing attendance
in his antechamber at Blois. He has M. d'Artagnan, and what better
guardian could the king have than M. d'Artagnan? I should make myself
perfectly easy with twenty storms of passion, such as Bragelonne might
display, if I had four guardians like D'Artagnan."

"But I entreat your majesty, who is so good and kind, to reflect a
little."

"Stay," said Charles II., presenting the letter to the duke, "read, and
answer yourself what you would do in my place."

Buckingham slowly took hold of Madame's letter, and, trembling with
emotion, read the following words:

"For your own sake, for mine, for the honor and safety of every
one, send M. de Bragelonne back to France immediately.

"Your devoted sister,
"HENRIETTA."

"Well, Villiers, what do you say?"

"Really, sire, I have nothing to say,"' replied the duke, stupefied.

"Nay, would you, of all persons," said the king, artfully, "advise me
not to listen to my sister when she writes so urgently?"

"Oh, no, no, sire; and yet--"

"You've not read the postscript, Villiers; it is under the fold of the
letter, and escaped me at first; read it." And as the duke turned down a
fold of the letter, he read. "A thousand kind remembrances to those who
love me."

The duke's head sank gradually on his breast; the paper trembled in his
fingers, as if it had been changed to lea