Chapter 27 - Page 2

must have been the king who made you such a present.”

“Certainly it was not the cardinal; but don’t trouble yourself whence they come, think only that one of the three is your property.”

“I choose that which the red-headed boy is leading.”

“It is yours!”

“Vive Dieu! That is enough to drive away all my pains; I could mount him with thirty balls in my body. On my soul, handsome stirrups! Hola, Bazin, come here this minute.”

Bazin appeared on the threshold, dull and spiritless.

“Furbish my sword, put my hat to rights, brush my cloak, and load my pistols!” said Aramis.

“That last order is useless,” interrupted D’Artagnan; “there are loaded pistols in your holsters.”

Bazin sighed.

“Come, Monsieur Bazin, make yourself easy,” said D’Artagnan; “people of all conditions gain the kingdom of heaven.”

“Monsieur was already such a good theologian,” said Bazin, almost weeping; “he might have become a bishop, and perhaps a cardinal.”

“Well, but my poor Bazin, reflect a little. Of what use is it to be a churchman, pray? You do not avoid going to war by that means; you see, the cardinal is about to make the next campaign, helm on head and partisan in hand. And Monsieur de Nogaret de la Valette, what do you say of him? He is a cardinal likewise. Ask his lackey how often he has had to prepare lint of him.”

“Alas!” sighed Bazin. “I know it, monsieur; everything is turned topsy-turvy in the world nowadays.”

While this dialogue was going on, the two young men and the poor lackey descended.

“Hold my stirrup, Bazin,” cried Aramis; and Aramis sprang into the saddle with his usual grace and agility, but after a few vaults and curvets of the noble animal his rider felt his pains come on so insupportably that he turned pale and became unsteady in his seat. D’Artagnan, who, foreseeing such an event, had kept his eye on him, sprang toward him, caught him in his arms, and assisted him to his chamber.

“That’s all right, my dear Aramis, take care of yourself,” said he; “I will go alone in search of Athos.”

“You are a man of brass,” replied Aramis.

“No, I have good luck, that is all. But how do you mean to pass your time till I come back? No more theses, no more glosses upon the fingers or upon benedictions, hey?”

Aramis smiled. “I will make verses,” said he.

“Yes, I dare say; verses perfumed with the odor of the billet from the attendant of Madame de Chevreuse. Teach Bazin prosody; that will console him. As to the horse, ride him a little every day,