my hesitation, count, but,
for a Stuart, you, who understand everything, you will comprehend that
the word is hard to pronounce;--I had, I say, the protection of my
cousin the stadtholder of Holland; but without the intervention, or at
least without the authorization of France, the stadtholder would not
take the initiative. I came, then, to ask this authorization of the king
of France, who has refused me."

"The king has refused you, sire!"

"Oh, not he; all justice must be rendered to my younger brother Louis;
but Monsieur de Mazarin--"

Athos bit his lips.

"You perhaps think I should have expected this refusal?" said the king,
who had noticed the movement.

"That was, in truth, my thought, sire," replied Athos, respectfully; "I
know that Italian of old."

"Then I determined to come to the test, and know at once the last word
of my destiny. I told my brother Louis, that, not to compromise either
France or Holland, I would tempt fortune myself in person, as I had
already done, with two hundred gentlemen, if he would give them to me;
and a million, if he would lend it me."

"Well, sire?"

"Well, monsieur, I am suffering at this moment something strange, and
that is, the satisfaction of despair. There is in certain souls,--and I
have just discovered that mine is of the number,--a real satisfaction in
the assurance that all is lost, and the time is come to yield."

"Oh, I hope," said Athos, "that your majesty is not come to that
extremity."

"To say so, my lord count, to endeavor to revive hope in my heart, you
must have ill understood what I have just told you. I came to Blois
to ask of my brother Louis the alms of a million, with which I had the
hopes of re-establishing my affairs; and my brother Louis has refused
me. You see, then, plainly, that all is lost."

"Will your majesty permit me to express a contrary opinion?"

"How is that, count? Do you think my heart of so low an order that I do
not know how to face my position?"

"Sire, I have always seen that it was in desperate positions that
suddenly the great turns of fortune have taken place."

"Thank you, count: it is some comfort to meet with a heart like yours;
that is to say, sufficiently trustful in God and in monarchy, never to
despair of a royal fortune, however low it may be fallen. Unfortunately,
my dear count, your words are like those remedies they call 'sovereign,'
and which, though able to cure curable wounds or diseases, fail against