"Parry has related to me all these terrible details, monsieur."
Athos bowed and resumed. "But here is something he had not related to you, sire, for what follows passed between God, your father, and myself; and never has the revelation of it been made even to my dearest friends. 'Go a little further off,' said the august prisoner to the executioner; 'it is but for an instant, and I know that I belong to you; but remember not to strike till I give the signal. I wish to offer up my prayers in freedom."
"Pardon me," said Charles II., turning very pale, "but you, count, who know so many details of this melancholy event,--details which, as you said just now, have never been revealed to any one,--do you know the name of that infernal executioner, of that base wretch who concealed his face that he might assassinate a king with impunity?"
Athos became slightly pale. "His name?" said he, "yes, I know it, but cannot tell it."
"And what is become of him, for nobody in England knows his destiny?"
"He is dead."
"But he did not die in his bed; he did not die a calm and peaceful death; he did not die the death of the good?"
"He died a violent death, in a terrible night, rendered so by the passions of man and a tempest from God. His body, pierced by a dagger, sank to the depths of the ocean. God pardon his murderer!"
"Proceed, then," said Charles II., seeing that the count was unwilling to say more.
"The king of England, after having, as I have said, spoken thus to the masked executioner, added,--'Observe, you will not strike till I shall stretch out my arms, saying--REMEMBER!'"
"I was aware," said Charles, in an agitated voice, "that that was the last word pronounced by my unfortunate father. But why and for whom?"
"For the French gentleman placed beneath his scaffold."
"For you, then, monsieur?"
"Yes, sire; and every one of the words which he spoke to me, through the planks of the scaffold covered with a black cloth, still sounds in my ears. The king knelt down on one knee: 'Comte de la Fere,' said he, 'are you there?' 'Yes, sire,' replied I. Then the king stooped towards the boards."
Charles II., also palpitating with interest, burning with grief, stooped towards Athos, to catch, one by one, every word that escaped from him. His head touched that of the comte.