"No, but in the one next to it, and as the door will remain open it comes to the same thing. Have you provided yourself with money? I assure you I intend to play the devil's game to-night."
D'Artagnan rattled the gold in his pockets.
"Very good," said Groslow, and opened the door of the room.
"I will show you the way," and he went in first.
D'Artagnan turned to look at his friends. Porthos was perfectly indifferent; Athos, pale, but resolute; Aramis was wiping a slight moisture from his brow.
The eight guards were at their posts. Four in the king's room, two at the door between the rooms and two at that by which the friends had entered. Athos smiled when he saw their bare swords; he felt it was no longer to be a butchery, but a fight, and he resumed his usual good humor.
Charles was perceived through the door, lying dressed upon his bed, at the head of which Parry was seated, reading in a low voice a chapter from the Bible.
A candle of coarse tallow on a black table lighted up the handsome and resigned face of the king and that of his faithful retainer, far less calm.
From time to time Parry stopped, thinking the king, whose eyes were closed, was really asleep, but Charles would open his eyes and say with a smile:
"Go on, my good Parry, I am listening."
Groslow advanced to the door of the king's room, replaced on his head the hat he had taken off to receive his guests, looked for a moment contemptuously at this simple, yet touching scene, then turning to D'Artagnan, assumed an air of triumph at what he had achieved.
"Capital!" cried the Gascon, "you would make a distinguished general."
"And do you think," asked Groslow, "that Stuart will ever escape while I am on guard?"
"No, to be sure," replied D'Artagnan; "unless, forsooth, the sky rains friends upon him."
Groslow's face brightened.
It is impossible to say whether Charles, who kept his eyes constantly closed, had noticed the insolence of the Puritan captain, but the moment he heard the clear tone of D'Artagnan's voice his eyelids rose, in spite of himself.
Parry, too, started and stopped reading.
"What are you thinking about?" said the king; "go on, my good Parry, unless you are tired."
Parry resumed his reading.
On a table in the next room were lighted candles, cards, two dice-boxes, and dice.
"Gentlemen," said Groslow, "I beg you will take your places.
I will sit facing Stuart, whom I like so much to see, especially where he now is, and you, Monsieur d'Artagnan, opposite to me."
Athos turned red with rage. D'Artagnan frowned at him.
"That's it," said D'Artagnan; "you, Monsieur le Comte de la Fere, to the right of Monsieur Groslow. You, Chevalier d'Herblay, to his left. Du Vallon next me. You'll bet for me and those gentlemen for Monsieur Groslow."
By this arrangement D'Artagnan could nudge Porthos with his knee and make signs with his eyes to Athos and Aramis.
At the names Comte de la Fere and Chevalier d'Herblay, Charles opened his eyes, and raising his noble head, in spite of himself, threw a glance at all the actors in the scene.
At that moment Parry turned over several leaves of his Bible and read with a loud voice this verse in Jeremiah:
"God said, `Hear ye the words of the prophets my servants, whom I have sent unto you."
The four friends exchanged glances. The words that Parry had read assured them that their presence was understood by the king and was assigned to its real motive. D'Artagnan's eyes sparkled with joy.
"You asked me just now if I was in funds," said D'Artagnan, placing some twenty pistoles upon the table. "Well, in my turn I advise you to keep a sharp lookout on your treasure, my dear Monsieur Groslow, for I can tell you we shall not leave this without robbing you of it."
"Not without my defending it," said Groslow.
"So much the better," said D'Artagnan. "Fight, my dear captain, fight. You know or you don't know, that that is what we ask of you."
"Oh! yes," said Groslow, bursting with his usual coarse laugh, "I know you Frenchmen want nothing but cuts and bruises."
Charles had heard and understood it all. A slight color mounted to his cheeks. The soldiers then saw him stretch his limbs, little by little, and under the pretense of much heat throw off the Scotch plaid which covered him.
Athos and Aramis started with delight to find that the king was lying with his clothes on.
The game began. The luck had turned, and Groslow, having won some hundred pistoles, was in the merriest possible humor.
Porthos, who had lost the fifty pistoles he had won the night before and thirty more besides, was very cross and questioned D'Artagnan with a nudge of the knee as to whether it would not soon be time to change the game. Athos and Aramis looked at him inquiringly. But D'Artagnan remained impassible.
It struck ten. They heard the guard going its rounds.
"How many rounds do they make a night?" asked D'Artagnan, drawing more pistoles from his pocket.
"Five," answered Groslow, "one every two hours."
