“Eh!” cried Athos, “are not those fellows poachers they have arrested yonder? They are. Then another important thing, Raoul: should you be wounded in a battle, and fall from your horse, if you have any strength left, disentangle yourself from the line that your regiment has formed; otherwise, it may be driven back and you will be trampled to death by the horses. At all events, should you be wounded, write to me that very instant, or get some one at once to write to me. We are judges of wounds, we old soldiers,” Athos added, smiling. “Thank you, sir,” answered the young man, much moved. They arrived that very moment at the gate of the town, guarded by two sentinels. “Here comes a young gentleman,” said one of them, “who seems as if he were going to join the army.” “How do you make that out?” inquired Athos. “By his manner, sir, and his age; he’s the second to-day.” “Has a young man, such as I am, gone through this morning, then?” asked Raoul. “Faith, yes, with a haughty presence, a fine equipage; such as the son of a noble house would have.” “He will be my companion on the journey, sir,” cried Raoul. “Alas! he cannot make me forget what I shall have lost!” Thus talking, they traversed the streets, full of people on account of the _fête_, and arrived opposite the old cathedral, where first mass was going on. “Let us alight; Raoul,” said Athos. “Olivain, take care of our horses and give me my sword.” The two gentlemen then went into the church. Athos gave Raoul some of the holy water. A love as tender as that of a lover for his mistress dwells, undoubtedly, in some paternal hearts toward a son. Athos said a word to one of the vergers, who bowed and proceeded toward the basement. “Come, Raoul,” he said, “let us follow this man.” The verger opened the iron grating that guarded the royal tombs and stood on the topmost step, whilst Athos and Raoul descended. The sepulchral depths of the descent were dimly lighted by a silver lamp on the lowest step; and just below this lamp there was laid, wrapped in a flowing mantle of violet velvet, worked with fleurs-de-lis of gold, a catafalque resting on trestles of oak. The young man, prepared for this scene by the state of his own feelings, which were mournful, and by the majesty of the cathedral which he had passed through, descended in a slow and solemn manner and stood with head uncovered before these mortal spoils of the last king, who was not to be placed by the side of his forefathers until his successor should take his place there; and who appeared to abide on that spot, that he might thus address human pride, so sure to be exalted by the glories of a throne: “Dust of the earth! Here I await thee!” There was profound silence. Then Athos raised his hand and pointing to the coffin: