Chapter 25 - Page 2

longer, withdrew as far as the
landing. "Unhappy, wretched man," he murmured.

"Yes, monsieur, he is indeed very wretched," said the jailer; "but it is
his parents' fault."

"In what way?"

"No doubt. Why did they let him learn Latin? Too much knowledge, you
see; it is that which does harm. Now I, for instance, can't read or
write, and therefore I am not in prison." Aramis looked at the man, who
seemed to think that being a jailer in the Bastile was not being in
prison. As for Baisemeaux, noticing the little effect produced by his
advice and his port wine, he left the dungeon quite upset. "You have
forgotten to close the door," said the jailer.

"So I have," said Baisemeaux; "there are the keys, do you do it."

"I will solicit the pardon of that poor boy," said Aramis.

"And if you do not succeed," said Baisemeaux, "at least beg that he may
be transferred to the ten-franc list, by which both he and I shall be
gainers."

"If the other prisoner calls out for his mother in a similar manner,"
said Aramis, "I prefer not to enter at all, but will take my measure from
outside."

"No fear of that, monsieur architect, the one we are now going to see is
as gentle as a lamb; before he could call after his mother he must open
his lips, and he never says a word."

"Let us go in, then," said Aramis, gloomily.

"Are you the architect of the prisons, monsieur?" said the jailer.

"I am."

"It is odd, then, that you are not more accustomed to all this."

Aramis perceived that, to avoid giving rise to any suspicions, he must
summon all his strength of mind to his assistance. Baisemeaux, who
carried the keys, opened the door. "Stay outside," he said to the
jailer, "and wait for us at the bottom of the steps." The jailer obeyed
and withdrew.

Baisemeaux entered first, and opened the second door himself. By the
light which filtered through the iron-barred window, could be seen a
handsome young man, short in stature, with closely cut hair, and a beard
beginning to grow; he was sitting on a stool, his elbow resting on an
armchair, and with all the upper part of his body reclining against it.
His dress, thrown upon the bed, was of rich black velvet, and he inhaled
the fresh air which blew in upon his breast through a shirt of the very
finest cambric. As the governor entered, the young man turned his head
with a look full of indifference; and on recognizing Baisemeaux, he arose
and saluted him courteously. But when his eyes fell upon Aramis, who
remained in the background, the latter trembled, turned pale, and his
hat, which he held in his hand, fell upon the ground, as if all his
muscles had become relaxed at once. Baisemeaux, habituated to the
presence