The Proscribed.

D’Artagnan had not reached the bottom of the staircase, when the king called his gentleman. “I have a commission to give you, monsieur,” said he.

“I am at your majesty’s commands.”

“Wait, then.” And the young king began to write the following letter, which cost him more than one sigh, although, at the same time, something like a feeling of triumph glittered in his eyes:

“MY LORD CARDINAL, — Thanks to your good counsels, and, above all, thanks to your firmness, I have succeeded in overcoming a weakness unworthy of a king. You have too ably arranged my destiny to allow gratitude not to stop me at the moment when I was about to destroy your work.