Chapter 40 - Page 2

to be friends, I
will not say for a long time, but forever."

"That is quite certain, chevalier, and my visit is a proof of it."

"Our interests, duchess, are no longer the same as they used to be," said
Aramis, smiling without apprehension in the growing gloom by which the
room was overcast, for it could not reveal that his smile was less
agreeable and not so bright as formerly.

"No, chevalier, at the present day we have other interests. Every period
of life brings its own; and, as we now understand each other in
conversing, as perfectly as we formerly did without saying a word, let us
talk, if you like."

"I am at your orders, duchesse. Ah! I beg your pardon, how did you
obtain my address, and what was your object?"

"You ask me why? I have told you. Curiosity in the first place. I
wished to know what you could have to do with the Franciscan, with whom I
had certain business transactions, and who died so singularly. You know
that on the occasion of our interview at Fontainebleau, in the cemetery,
at the foot of the grave so recently closed, we were both so much
overcome by our emotions that we omitted to confide to each other what we
may have to say."

"Yes, madame."

"Well, then, I had no sooner left you than I repented, and have ever
since been most anxious to ascertain the truth. You know that Madame de
Longueville and myself are almost one, I suppose?"

"I was not aware," said Aramis, discreetly.

"I remembered, therefore," continued the duchesse, "that neither of us
said anything to the other in the cemetery; that you did not speak of the
relationship in which you stood to the Franciscan, whose burial you
superintended, and that I did not refer to the position in which I stood
to him; all which seemed very unworthy of two such old friends as
ourselves, and I have sought an opportunity of an interview with you in
order to give you some information that I have recently acquired, and to
assure you that Marie Michon, now no more, has left behind her one who
has preserved her recollection of events."

Aramis bowed over the duchess's hand, and pressed his lips upon it. "You
must have had some trouble to find me again," he said.

"Yes," she answered, annoyed to find the subject taking a turn which
Aramis wished to give it; "but I knew you were a friend of M. Fouquet's,
and so I inquired in that direction."

"A friend! oh!" exclaimed the chevalier, "I can hardly pretend to be
_that_. A poor priest who has been favored by a generous protector, and
whose heart is full of gratitude and devotion, is all that I pretend to
be to M. Fouquet."

"He made you a bishop?"

"Yes, duchesse."

"A very good retiring pension for so