e.

"My son," he said to him, "you saw a great number of people in the
streets as you came here. These men are going to behead your father.
Do not forget that. Perhaps some day they will want to make you
king, instead of the Prince of Wales, or the Duke of York, your elder
brothers. But you are not the king, my son, and can never be so while
they are alive. Swear to me, then, never to let them put a crown
upon your head unless you have a legal right to the crown. For one
day--listen, my son--one day, if you do so, they will doom you to
destruction, head and crown, too, and then you will not be able to die
with a calm conscience, as I die. Swear, my son."

The child stretched out his little hand toward that of his father and
said, "I swear to your majesty."

"Henry," said Charles, "call me your father."

"Father," replied the child, "I swear to you that they shall kill me
sooner than make me king."

"Good, my child. Now kiss me; and you, too, Charlotte. Never forget me."

"Oh! never, never!" cried both the children, throwing their arms around
their father's neck.

"Farewell," said Charles, "farewell, my children. Take them away, Juxon;
their tears will deprive me of the courage to die."

Juxon led them away, and this time the doors were left open.

Meanwhile, Athos, in his concealment, waited in vain the signal to
recommence his work. Two long hours he waited in terrible inaction. A
deathlike silence reigned in the room above. At last he determined to
discover the cause of this stillness. He crept from his hole and stood,
hidden by the black drapery, beneath the scaffold. Peeping out from the
drapery, he could see the rows of halberdiers and musketeers around the
scaffold and the first ranks of the populace swaying and groaning like
the sea.

"What is the matter, then?" he asked himself, trembling more than the
wind-swayed cloth he was holding back. "The people are hurrying on, the
soldiers under arms, and among the spectators I see D'Artagnan. What is
he waiting for? What is he looking at? Good God! have they allowed the
headsman to escape?"

Suddenly the dull beating of muffled drums filled the square. The sound
of heavy steps was heard above his head. The next moment the very planks
of the scaffold creaked with the weight of an advancing procession,
and the eager faces of the spectators confirmed what a last hope at the
bottom of his heart had prevented him till then believing. At the same
moment a well-