ed so near to the secretary as to
be able to read the letter over his shoulder; so that the news spread
with such activity through the castle, that Mazarin might have feared
it would reach the ears of the queen-mother before M. de Brienne could
convey Louis XIV.'s letter to her. A moment after orders were given for
departure, and M. de Conde having been to pay his respects to the
king on his pretended rising, inscribed the city of Poitiers upon his
tablets, as the place of sojourn and rest for their majesties.

Thus in a few instants was unraveled an intrigue which had covertly
occupied all the diplomacies of Europe. It had nothing, however, very
clear as a result, but to make a poor lieutenant of musketeers lose his
commission and his fortune. It is true, that in exchange he gained his
liberty. We shall soon know how M. d'Artagnan profited by this. For the
moment, if the reader will permit us, we shall return to the hostelry of
_les Medici_, of which one of the windows opened at the very moment the
orders were given for the departure of the king.

The window that opened was that of one of the rooms of Charles II. The
unfortunate prince had passed the night in bitter reflections, his head
resting on his hands, and his elbows on the table, whilst Parry, infirm
and old, wearied in body and in mind, had fallen asleep in a corner. A
singular fortune was that of this faithful servant, who saw beginning
for the second generation the fearful series of misfortunes which had
weighed so heavily on the first. When Charles II. had well thought over
the fresh defeat he had experienced, when he perfectly comprehended the
complete isolation into which he had just fallen, on seeing his fresh
hope left behind him, he was seized as with a vertigo, and sank back
into the large armchair in which he was seated. Then God took pity on
the unhappy prince, and sent to console him sleep, the innocent brother
of death. He did not wake till half-past six, that is to say, till the
sun shone brightly into his chamber, and Parry, motionless with fear of
waking him, was observing with profound grief the eyes of the young man
already red with wakefulness, and his cheeks pale with suffering and
privations.

At length the noise of some heavy carts descending towards the Loire
awakened Charles. He arose, looked around him like a man who has
forgotten everything, perceived Parry, shook him by the hand, and
commanded him to settle the reckoning with Maste