separated him from his
England, as it had formerly separated Mary Stuart from France. There,
behind the trees of the beautiful wood of Scheveningen, on the fine sand
upon which grows the golden broom of the down, Charles II. vegetated as
it did, more unfortunate, for he had life and thought, and he hoped and
despaired by turns.

D'Artagnan went once as far as Scheveningen, in order to be certain that
all was true that was said of the king. He beheld Charles II., pensive
and alone, coming out of a little door opening into the wood, and
walking on the beach in the setting sun, without even attracting the
attention of the fishermen, who, on their return in the evening, drew,
like the ancient mariners of the Archipelago, their barks up upon the
sand of the shore.

D'Artagnan recognized the king; he saw him fix his melancholy look upon
the immense extent of the waters, and absorb upon his pale countenance
the red rays of the sun already cut by the black line of the horizon.
Then Charles returned to his isolated abode, always alone, slow and sad,
amusing himself with making the friable and moving sand creak beneath
his feet.

That very evening D'Artagnan hired for a thousand livres a fishing-boat
worth four thousand. He paid a thousand livres down, and deposited the
three thousand with a Burgomaster, after which he brought on board,
without their being seen, the six men who formed his land army; and with
the rising tide, at three o'clock in the morning, he got into the open
sea, maneuvering ostensibly with the four others, and depending upon the
science of his galley slave as upon that of the first pilot of the port.

Chapter XXIII. In which the Author, very unwillingly, is forced to write
a Little History.

While kings and men were thus occupied with England, which governed
itself quite alone, and which, it must be said in its praise, had never
been so badly governed, a man upon whom God had fixed his eye, and
placed his finger, a man predestined to write his name in brilliant
letters upon the page of history, was pursuing in the face of the world
a work full of mystery and audacity. He went on, and no one knew whither
he meant to go, although not only England, but France, and Europe,
watched him marching with a firm step and head held high. All that was
known of this man we are about to tell.

Monk had just declared himself in favor of the liberty of the Rump
Parliament, a parliament which General Lambert, imita