known voice above him pronounced these words:

"Colonel, I want to speak to the people."

Athos shuddered from head to foot. It was the king speaking on the
scaffold.

In fact, after taking a few drops of wine and a piece of bread, Charles,
weary of waiting for death, had suddenly decided to go to meet it and
had given the signal for movement. Then the two wings of the window
facing the square had been thrown open, and the people had seen silently
advancing from the interior of the vast chamber, first, a masked man,
who, carrying an axe in his hand, was recognized as the executioner. He
approached the block and laid his axe upon it. Behind him, pale indeed,
but marching with a firm step, was Charles Stuart, who advanced between
two priests, followed by a few superior officers appointed to preside
at the execution and attended by two files of partisans who took their
places on opposite sides of the scaffold.

The sight of the masked man gave rise to a prolonged sensation. Every
one was full of curiosity as to who that unknown executioner could
be who presented himself so opportunely to assure to the people the
promised spectacle, when the people believed it had been postponed until
the following day. All gazed at him searchingly.

But they could discern nothing but a man of middle height, dressed in
black, apparently of a certain age, for the end of a gray beard peeped
out from the bottom of the mask that hid his features.

The king's request had undoubtedly been acceded to by an affirmative
sign, for in firm, sonorous accents, which vibrated in the depths of
Athos's heart, the king began his speech, explaining his conduct and
counseling the welfare of the kingdom.

"Oh!" said Athos to himself, "is it indeed possible that I hear what I
hear and that I see what I see? Is it possible that God has abandoned
His representative on earth and left him to die thus miserably? And I
have not seen him! I have not said adieu to him!"

A noise was heard like that the instrument of death would make if moved
upon the block.

"Do not touch the axe," said the king, and resumed his speech.

At the end of his speech the king looked tenderly around upon the
people. Then unfastening the diamond ornament which the queen had sent
him, he placed it in the hands of the priest who accompanied Juxon. Then
he drew from his breast a little cross set in diamonds, which, like the
order, had been the gift of Henrietta Maria.

"Sir," said h