Chapter 7 - Page 2

like extremely,” continued Aramis, “to help myself.”

“Retire, Francois!” cried Baisemeaux. “I was saying that your Greatness puts me in mind of two persons,- one very illustrious, the late cardinal, the great cardinal of La Rochelle, who wore boots like you.”

“Indeed,” said Aramis; “and the other?”

“The other was a certain musketeer, very handsome, very brave, very adventurous, very fortunate, who from being abbé turned musketeer, and from musketeer turned abbé.” Aramis condescended to smile. “From abbé,” continued Baisemeaux, encouraged by Aramis’s smile,- “from abbé, bishop, and from bishop-”

“Ah, stay there, I beg!” exclaimed Aramis.

“I say, Monsieur, that you give me the idea of a cardinal.”

“Enough, dear M. Baisemeaux! As you said, I have on the boots of a cavalier; but I do not intend, for all that, to embroil myself with the church this evening.”

“You have wicked intentions, however, Monseigneur.”

“Oh, yes; wicked I own, as everything mundane is.”

“You traverse the town and the streets in disguise?”

“In disguise, as you say.”

“And do you still use your sword?”

“Yes, I should think so; but only when I am compelled. Do me the pleasure to summon Francois.”

“Have you no wine there?”

“’Tis not for wine, but because it is hot here and the window is shut.”

“I shut the windows at supper-time so as not to hear the sounds or the arrival of couriers.”

“Ah, yes! You hear them when the window is open?”

“But too well, and that disturbs me. You understand!”

“Nevertheless, I am suffocated. Francois!” Francois entered. “Open the windows, I pray you, Francois! You will allow him, dear M. Baisemeaux?”

“You are at home here,” answered the governor. The window was opened.

“Do you not think,” said M. de Baisemeaux, “that you will find yourself very lonely, now that M. de la Fere has returned to his household gods at Blois? He is a very old friend, is he not?”

“You know it as I do, Baisemeaux, seeing that you were in the musketeers with us.”

“Bah! with my friends I reckon neither bottles nor years.”

“And you are right. But I do more than love M. de la Fere, dear Baisemeaux; I venerate him.”

“Well, for my part, though ’tis singular,” said the governor, “I prefer M. d’Artagnan to the count. There is a man for