All still remained silent- the eyes of all were turned in the direction where the vessel had disappeared — endeavoring in vain to penetrate the darkness. After a minute or two they were able to distinguish a man, who approached them, swimming vigorously.

Athos extended his arm toward him-"Yes, yes, I know him well," he said.

"He-again!” cried Porthos, who was breathing like a blacksmith's bellows, "why, he is made of iron."

"Oh, my God!" muttered Athos.

Aramis and D'Artagnan whispered to each other.

Mordaunt made several strokes more, and raising his arm in sign of distress above the waves-"Pity, pity on me! gentlemen in Heaven's name my strength is failing me; I am dying."

The voice that implored aid was so piteous that it awakened pity in the heart of Athos.

"Miserable wretch," he exclaimed.

"Indeed!" said D'Artagnan, "monsters have only to complain to gain your sympathy. I believe he's swimming toward us. Does he think we are going to take him in? Row, Porthos, row." And setting the example, he plowed his oar into the sea -two strokes took the bark on twenty fathoms further. "Ah! ah!" said Porthos to Mordaunt, "I think we have you now, my hero!"

"Oh! Porthos!" murmured the Comte de la Fère. "Oh pray! for mercy's sake, don't fly from me. For pity's sake!" cried the young man, whose agony-drawn breath at times, when his head went under water, under the wave, exhaled and made the icy waters bubble.

D'Artagnan, however, who had consulted with Aramis, spoke to the poor wretch. "Go away," he said, "your repentance is too recent to inspire confidence. See! the vessel in which you wished to fry us is still smoking; and the situation in which you are is a bed of roses compared to that in which you wished to place us, and in which you have placed Monsieur Groslow and his companions.'

"Sir!" replied Mordaunt, in a tongue of deep despair, "my penitence is sincere. Gentlemen, I am young, scarcely twentythree years old. I was drawn on by a very natural resentment to avenge my mother. You would have done what I did."

Mordaunt wanted now only two or three fathoms to reach

the boat for the approach of death seemed to give him supernatural strength.

"Alas!" he said, "I am then to die? you are going to kill the son, as you killed the mother! Surely, if I am culpable, and if I ask for pardon, I ought to be forgiven."

-

Then as if his strength failed him he seemed unable to sustain himself above the water, and a wave passed over his head, which drowned his voice.

"Oh! this is torture to me!" cried Athos. Mordaunt reappeared.

"For my part," said D'Artagnan, "I say, this must come to an end; murderer, as you were, of your uncle! executioner, as you were, of King Charles! incendiary! I recommend you to sink forthwith to the bottom of the sea; and if you come another fathom nearer, I'll stave your wicked head in with this oar."

"D'Artagnan! D'Artagnan!” cried Athos, "my son, I entreat you; the wretch is dying: and it is horrible to let a man die without extending a hand to save him. I cannot resist doing so; he must live."

"Zounds!" replied D'Artagnan, "why don't you give yourself up directly, feet and hands bound, to that wretch? Ah! Comte de la Fère, you wish to perish by his hands! I, your son, as you call me, I will not let you!"

'Twas the first time D'Artagnan had ever refused a request from Athos.

Aramis calmly drew his sword, which he had carried between his teeth as he swam.

"If he lays his hand on the boat's edge, I will cut it offregicide that he is."

"And I," said Porthos.

"Wait."

"What are you going to do?" asked Aramis.

"Throw myself in the water, and strangle him."

"Oh, gentlemen!" cried Athos, "be men! be Christians! See! death is depicted on his face! Ah! do not bring on me the horrors of remorse! Grant me this poor wretch's life. I will bless you. I—

"I am dying!" cried Mordaunt, "come to me! come to me!" D'Artagnan began to be touched. The boat at this moment turned round; and the dying man was by that turn brought nearer Athos.

"Monsieur the Comte de la Fère," he cried, "I supplicate

you! pity me! I call on you! where are you? I see you no longer I am dying-help me! help me!"

"Here I am, sir!" said Athos, leaning, and stretching out his arm to Mordaunt with that air of dignity and nobility of soul habitual to him, "here I am, take my hand and jump into our boat."

Mordaunt made a last effort-rose-seized the hand thus extended to him, and grasped it with the vehemence of despair.

"That's right," said Athos, "put your other hand here." And he offered him his shoulder as another stay and support, so that his head almost touched that of Mordaunt; and these two mortal enemies were in as close an embrace as if they had been brothers.

66

Now, sir," said the count, "you are safe― calm yourself." "Ah! my mother," cried Mordaunt, with eyes on fire with a look of hate impossible to paint. "I can only offer thee one victim, but it shall, at any rate, be the one thou wouldst thyself have chosen !"

And whilst D'Artagnan uttered a cry, Porthos raised the oar, and Aramis sought a place to strike, a frightful shake given to the boat precipitated Athos into the sea; whilst Mordaunt, with a shout of triumph, grasped the neck of his victim, and, in order to paralyze his movements, twined arms and legs around the musketeer. For an instant, without an exclamation, without a cry for help, Athos tried to sustain himself on the surface of the waters, but the weight dragged him down; he disappeared by degrees; soon, nothing was to be seen except his long floating hair; then both men disappeared, and the bubbling of the water, which, in its turn, was soon effaced, alone indicated the spot where these two had sunk.

Mute with horror, the three friends had remained openmouthed, their eyes dilated, their arms extended like statues, and, motionless as they were, the beating of their hearts was audible. Porthos was the first who came to himself he tore his hair.

"Oh!" he cried, "Athos! Athos! thou man of noble heart; woe is me! I have let thee perish!"

At this instant, in the midst of the silver circle, illumined by the light of the moon, the same whirlpool which had been made by the sinking men was again obvious, and first were seen, rising above the waves, a wisp of hair- then a pale face with open eyes, yet, nevertheless, the eyes of death; then a

body which, after rising of itself even to the waist above the sea, turned gently on its back, according to the caprice of the waves, and floated.

In the bosom of this corpse was plunged a poniard, the gold hilt of which shone in the moonbeams.

"Mordaunt! Mordaunt!" cried the three friends, "'tis Mordaunt !"

"But Athos!" exclaimed D'Artagnan.

Suddenly the boat leaned on one side beneath a new and unexpected weight, and Grimaud uttered a shout of joy; every one turned round, and beheld Athos, livid, his eyes dim, and his hands trembling, supporting himself on the edge of the boat. Eight vigorous arms lifted him up immediately, and laid him in the boat, where, directly, Athos was warmed and reanimated, reviving with the caresses and cares of his friends, who were intoxicated with joy.

"You are not hurt?" asked D'Artagnan.

"No," replied Athos, "and he

"Oh, he! now we may say at last, thank heaven! he is really dead. Look !"-and D'Artagnan, obliging Athos to look in the direction that he pointed, showed him the body of Mordaunt floating on its back, which, sometimes submerged, sometimes rising, seemed still to pursue the four friends with looks of insult and of mortal hatred.

At last he sank. Athos had followed him with a glance in which the deepest melancholy and pity were expressed.

"Bravo, Athos!" cried Aramis, with an emotion very rare in him.

"A capital blow you gave!" cried Porthos.

"I have a son. I wished to live," said Athos.

"In short," said D'Artagnan, "this has been the will of God."

"It was not I who killed him," sighed Athos, in a soft, low tone, "'twas destiny."

THE RESCUE OF DELIA.

BY CALPRENÈDE.

(From "Cleopatra.")

[GAUTIER DE COSTES DE LA CALPRENÈDE, French novelist and dramatist, was born 1610, died 1663. He wrote the voluminous and ostensibly historical novels " Cassandra" (1640), "Cleopatra" (1647), and "Pharamond" (1661), besides several historical dramas, as "The Death of Mithridates" and "John of England (1637), "The Earl of Essex" (1639), and “Edward, King of England" (1640)].

THE King himself, after the Princess had done, employed a great deal of care to stay me, and protested divers times to me that he was as desirous now that I should be his Daughter as he had been averse from it before. At last, when he saw me resolved upon my design, he offered me all I could desire for my Voyage, and after he had considered whom he might trust to conduct me, he gave the employment to Antigenes. This Man at first I suspected, because he had formerly made love to me with a great deal of earnestness, and with assurance to marry me by the King's favor, who, as you know, upheld him in that design, yet remembering how he had behaved himself towards me since the day you prohibited him to see me, the respect he expressed to me in all his actions, and all the Apologies he often made me for those things which he was constrained to do in obedience to the King's command, I believed he had absolutely lost that intention, which he only pretended for fear of incurring the King's displeasure, and I as easily imagined that he would acquit himself of his commission with more affection than another, that by that means he might the better gain his Prince's favor. At last I disposed myself to depart under his conduct, after the King had assured me of his fidelity and discretion, and after I had taken my last leave of the Princess Andromeda with a great many tears upon both sides, and received from the King all the testimonies of love and good will, I mounted with my Governess and Melite into a chariot which the King caused to be provided for us, and Antigenes accompanied us on horseback, being attended by seven or eight Men in the same equipage.

The good usage I received from the King your Father after your departure, the endeavors he used to retain me, and the