26 ARAMIS AND HIS THESIS
D'Artagnan had said nothing to Porthos of his wound or of hisprocurator's wife. Our Bearnais was a prudent lad, however young hemight be. Consequently he had appeared to believe all that thevainglorious Musketeer had told him, convinced that no friendship willhold out against a surprised secret. Besides, we feel always a sort ofmental superiority over those whose lives we know better than theysuppose. In his projects of intrigue for the future, and determined ashe was to make his three friends the instruments of his fortune,d'Artagnan was not sorry at getting into his grasp beforehand theinvisible strings by which he reckoned upon moving them.
And yet, as he journeyed along, a profound sadness weighed upon hisheart. He thought of that young and pretty Mme. Bonacieux who was tohave paid him the price of his devotedness; but let us hasten to saythat this sadness possessed the young man less from the regret of thehappiness he had missed, than from the fear he entertained that someserious misfortune had befallen the poor woman. For himself, he had nodoubt she was a victim of the cardinal's vengeance; and, as was wellknown, the vengeance of his Eminence was terrible. How he had foundgrace in the eyes of the minister, he did not know; but without doubt M.de Cavois would have revealed this to him if the captain of the Guardshad found him at home.
Nothing makes time pass more quickly or more shortens a journey than athought which absorbs in itself all the faculties of the organization ofhim who thinks. External existence then resembles a sleep of which thisthought is the dream. By its influence, time has no longer measure,space has no longer distance. We depart from one place, and arrive atanother, that is all. Of the interval passed, nothing remains in thememory but a vague mist in which a thousand confused images of trees,mountains, and landscapes are lost. It was as a prey to thishallucination that d'Artagnan traveled, at whatever pace his horsepleased, the six or eight leagues that separated Chantilly fromCrevecoeur, without his being able to remember on his arrival in thevillage any of the things he had passed or met with on the road.
There only his memory returned to him. He shook his head, perceived thecabaret at which he had left Aramis, and putting his horse to the trot,he shortly pulled up at the door.
This time it was not a host but a hostess who received him. D'Artagnanwas a physiognomist. His eye took in at a glance the plump, cheerfulcountenance of the mistress of the place, and he at once perceived therewas no occasion for dissembling with her, or of fearing anything fromone blessed with such a joyous physiognomy.
"My good dame," asked d'Artagnan, "can you tell me what has become ofone of my friends, whom we were obliged to leave here about a dozen daysago?"
"A handsome young man, three- or four-and-twenty years old, mild,amiable, and well made?"
"That is he--wounded in the shoulder."
"Just so. Well, monsieur, he is still here."
"Ah, PARDIEU! My dear dame," said d'Artagnan, springing from his horse,and throwing the bridle to Planchet, "you restore me to life; where isthis dear Aramis? Let me embrace him, I am in a hurry to see him again."
"Pardon, monsieur, but I doubt whether he can see you at this moment."
"Why so? Has he a lady with him?"
"Jesus! What do you mean by that? Poor lad! No, monsieur, he has not alady with him."
"With whom is he, then?"
"With the curate of Montdidier and the superior of the Jesuits ofAmiens."
"Good heavens!" cried d'Artagnan, "is the poor fellow worse, then?"
"No, monsieur, quite the contrary; but after his illness grace touchedhim, and he determined to take orders."
"That's it!" said d'Artagnan, "I had forgotten that he was only aMusketeer for a time."
"Monsieur still insists upon seeing him?"
"More than ever."
"Well, monsieur has only to take the right-hand staircase in thecourtyard, and knock at Number Five on the second floor."
D'Artagnan walked quickly in the direction indicated, and found one ofthose exterior staircases that are still to be seen in the yards of ourold-fashioned taverns. But there was no getting at the place of sojournof the future abbe; the defiles of the chamber of Aramis were as wellguarded as the gardens of Armida. Bazin was stationed in the corridor,and barred his passage with the more intrepidity that, after many yearsof trial, Bazin found himself near a result of which he had ever beenambitious.
In fact, the dream of poor Bazin had always been to serve a churchman;and he awaited with impatience the moment, always in the future, whenAramis would throw aside the uniform and assume the cassock. Thedaily-renewed promise of the young man that the moment would not long bedelayed, had alone kept him in the service of a Musketeer--a service inwhich, he said, his soul was in constant jeopardy.
Bazin was then at the height of joy. In all probability, this time hismaster would not retract. The union of physical pain with moraluneasiness had produced the effect so long desired. Aramis, suffering atonce in body and mind, had at length fixed his eyes and his thoughtsupon religion, and he had considered as a warning from heaven the doubleaccident which had happened to him; that is to say, the suddendisappearance of his mistress and the wound in his shoulder.
It may be easily understood that in the present disposition of hismaster nothing could be more disagreeable to Bazin than the arrival ofd'Artagnan, which might cast his master back again into that vortex ofmundane affairs which had so long carried him away. He resolved, then,to defend the door bravely; and as, betrayed by the mistress of the inn,he could not say that Aramis was absent, he endeavored to prove to thenewcomer that it would be the height of indiscretion to disturb hismaster in his pious conference, which had commenced with the morning andwould not, as Bazin said, terminate before night.
But d'Artagnan took very little heed of the eloquent discourse of M.Bazin; and as he had no desire to support a polemic discussion with hisfriend's valet, he simply moved him out of the way with one hand, andwith the other turned the handle of the door of Number Five. The dooropened, and d'Artagnan went into the chamber.
Aramis, in a black gown, his head enveloped in a sort of round flat cap,not much unlike a CALOTTE, was seated before an oblong table, coveredwith rolls of paper and enormous volumes in folio. At his right hand wasplaced the superior of the Jesuits, and on his left the curate ofMontdidier. The curtains were half drawn, and only admitted themysterious light calculated for beatific reveries. All the mundaneobjects that generally strike the eye on entering the room of a youngman, particularly when that young man is a Musketeer, had disappeared asif by enchantment; and for fear, no doubt, that the sight of them mightbring his master back to ideas of this world, Bazin had laid his handsupon sword, pistols, plumed hat, and embroideries and laces of all kindsand sorts. In their stead d'Artagnan thought he perceived in an obscurecorner a discipline cord suspended from a nail in the wall.
At the noise made by d'Artagnan in entering, Aramis lifted up his head,and beheld his friend; but to the great astonishment of the young man,the sight of him did not produce much effect upon the Musketeer, socompletely was his mind detached from the things of this world.
"Good day, dear d'Artagnan," said Aramis; "believe me, I am glad to seeyou."
"So am I delighted to see you," said d'Artagnan, "although I am not yetsure that it is Aramis I am speaking to."
"To himself, my friend, to himself! But what makes you doubt it?"
"I was afraid I had made a mistake in the chamber, and that I had foundmy way into the apartment of some churchman. Then another error seizedme on seeing you in company with these gentlemen--I was afraid you weredangerously ill."
The two men in black, who guessed d'Artagnan's meaning, darted at him aglance which might have been thought threatening; but d'Artagnan took noheed of it.
"I disturb you, perhaps, my dear Aramis," continued d'Artagnan, "for bywhat I see, I am led to believe that you are confessing to thesegentlemen."
Aramis colored imperceptibly. "You disturb me? Oh, quite the contrary,dear friend, I swear; and as
a proof of what I say, permit me to declareI am rejoiced to see you safe and sound."
"Ah, he'll come round," thought d'Artagnan; "that's not bad!"
"This gentleman, who is my friend, has just escaped from a seriousdanger," continued Aramis, with unction, pointing to d'Artagnan with hishand, and addressing the two ecclesiastics.
"Praise God, monsieur," replied they, bowing together.
"I have not failed to do so, your Reverences," replied the young man,returning their salutation.
"You arrive in good time, dear d'Artagnan," said Aramis, "and by takingpart in our discussion may assist us with your intelligence. Monsieurthe Principal of Amiens, Monsieur the Curate of Montdidier, and I arearguing certain theological questions in which we have been muchinterested; I shall be delighted to have your opinion."
"The opinion of a swordsman can have very little weight," repliedd'Artagnan, who began to be uneasy at the turn things were taking, "andyou had better be satisfied, believe me, with the knowledge of thesegentlemen."
The two men in black bowed in their turn.
"On the contrary," replied Aramis, "your opinion will be very valuable.The question is this: Monsieur the Principal thinks that my thesis oughtto be dogmatic and didactic."
"Your thesis! Are you then making a thesis?"
"Without doubt," replied the Jesuit. "In the examination which precedesordination, a thesis is always a requisite."
"Ordination!" cried d'Artagnan, who could not believe what the hostessand Bazin had successively told him; and he gazed, half stupefied, uponthe three persons before him.
"Now," continued Aramis, taking the same graceful position in his easychair that he would have assumed in bed, and complacently examining hishand, which was as white and plump as that of a woman, and which he heldin the air to cause the blood to descend, "now, as you have heard,d'Artagnan, Monsieur the Principal is desirous that my thesis should bedogmatic, while I, for my part, would rather it should be ideal. This isthe reason why Monsieur the Principal has proposed to me the followingsubject, which has not yet been treated upon, and in which I perceivethere is matter for magnificent elaboration-'UTRAQUE MANUS INBENEDICENDO CLERICIS INFERIORIBUS NECESSARIA EST.'"
D'Artagnan, whose erudition we are well acquainted with, evinced no moreinterest on hearing this quotation than he had at that of M. de Trevillein allusion to the gifts he pretended that d'Artagnan had received fromthe Duke of Buckingham.
"Which means," resumed Aramis, that he might perfectly understand, "'Thetwo hands are indispensable for priests of the inferior orders, whenthey bestow the benediction.'"
"An admirable subject!" cried the Jesuit.
"Admirable and dogmatic!" repeated the curate, who, about as strong asd'Artagnan with respect to Latin, carefully watched the Jesuit in orderto keep step with him, and repeated his words like an echo.
As to d'Artagnan, he remained perfectly insensible to the enthusiasm ofthe two men in black.
"Yes, admirable! PRORSUS ADMIRABILE!" continued Aramis; "but whichrequires a profound study of both the Scriptures and the Fathers. Now, Ihave confessed to these learned ecclesiastics, and that in all humility,that the duties of mounting guard and the service of the king havecaused me to neglect study a little. I should find myself, therefore,more at my ease, FACILUS NATANS, in a subject of my own choice, whichwould be to these hard theological questions what morals are tometaphysics in philosophy."
D'Artagnan began to be tired, and so did the curate.
"See what an exordium!" cried the Jesuit.
"Exordium," repeated the curate, for the sake of saying something."QUEMADMODUM INTER COELORUM IMMNSITATEM."
Aramis cast a glance upon d'Artagnan to see what effect all thisproduced, and found his friend gaping enough to split his jaws.
"Let us speak French, my father," said he to the Jesuit; "Monsieurd'Artagnan will enjoy our conversation better."
"Yes," replied d'Artagnan; "I am fatigued with reading, and all thisLatin confuses me."
"Certainly," replied the Jesuit, a little put out, while the curate,greatly delighted, turned upon d'Artagnan a look full of gratitude."Well, let us see what is to be derived from this gloss. Moses, theservant of God-he was but a servant, please to understand-Moses blessedwith the hands; he held out both his arms while the Hebrews beat theirenemies, and then he blessed them with his two hands. Besides, what doesthe Gospel say? IMPONITE MANUS, and not MANUM-place the HANDS, not theHAND."
"Place the HANDS," repeated the curate, with a gesture.
"St. Peter, on the contrary, of whom the Popes are the successors,"continued the Jesuit; "PORRIGE DIGITOS-present the fingers. Are youthere, now?"
"CERTES," replied Aramis, in a pleased tone, "but the thing is subtle."
"The FINGERS," resumed the Jesuit, "St. Peter blessed with the FINGERS.The Pope, therefore blesses with the fingers. And with how many fingersdoes he bless? With THREE fingers, to be sure-one for the Father, onefor the Son, and one for the Holy Ghost."
All crossed themselves. D'Artagnan thought it was proper to follow thisexample.
"The Pope is the successor of St. Peter, and represents the three divinepowers; the rest-ORDINES INFERIORES-of the ecclesiastical hierarchybless in the name of the holy archangels and angels. The most humbleclerks such as our deacons and sacristans, bless with holy watersprinklers, which resemble an infinite number of blessing fingers. Thereis the subject simplified. ARGUMENTUM OMNI DENUDATUM ORNAMENTO. I couldmake of that subject two volumes the size of this," continued theJesuit; and in his enthusiasm he struck a St. Chrysostom in folio, whichmade the table bend beneath its weight.
D'Artagnan trembled.
"CERTES," said Aramis, "I do justice to the beauties of this thesis; butat the same time I perceive it would be overwhelming for me. I hadchosen this text-tell me, dear d'Artagnan, if it is not to yourtaste-'NON INUTILE EST DESIDERIUM IN OBLATIONE'; that is, 'A littleregret is not unsuitable in an offering to the Lord.'"
"Stop there!" cried the Jesuit, "for that thesis touches closely uponheresy. There is a proposition almost like it in the AUGUSTINUS of theheresiarch Jansenius, whose book will sooner or later be burned by thehands of the executioner. Take care, my young friend. You are incliningtoward false doctrines, my young friend; you will be lost."
"You will be lost," said the curate, shaking his head sorrowfully.
"You approach that famous point of free will which is a mortal rock. Youface the insinuations of the Pelagians and the semi-Pelagians."
"But, my Reverend-" replied Aramis, a little amazed by the shower ofarguments that poured upon his head.
"How will you prove," continued the Jesuit, without allowing him time tospeak, "that we ought to regret the world when we offer ourselves toGod? Listen to this dilemma: God is God, and the world is the devil. Toregret the world is to regret the devil; that is my conclusion."
"And that is mine also," said the curate.
"But, for heaven's sake-" resumed Aramis.
"DESIDERAS DIABOLUM, unhappy man!" cried the Jesuit.
"He regrets the devil! Ah, my young friend," added the curate, groaning,"do not regret the devil, I implore you!"
D'Artagnan felt himself bewildered. It seemed to him as though he werein a madhouse, and was becoming as mad as those he saw. He was, however,forced to hold his tongue from not comprehending half the language theyemployed.
"But listen to me, then," resumed Aramis with politeness mingled with alittle impatience. "I do not say I regret; no, I will never pronouncethat sentence, which would not be orthodox."
The Jesuit raised his hands toward heaven, and the curate did the same.
"No; but pray grant me that it is acting with an ill grace to offer tothe Lord only that with which we are perfectly disgusted! Don't youthink so, d'Artagnan?"
"I think so, indeed," cried he.
The Jesuit and the curate quite started from their chairs.
"This is the point of departure; it is a syllogism. The world is notwanting in attractions. I qui
t the world; then I make a sacrifice. Now,the Scripture says positively, 'Make a sacrifice unto the Lord.'"
"That is true," said his antagonists.
"And then," said Aramis, pinching his ear to make it red, as he rubbedhis hands to make them white, "and then I made a certain RONDEAU upon itlast year, which I showed to Monsieur Voiture, and that great man paidme a thousand compliments."
"A RONDEAU!" said the Jesuit, disdainfully.
"A RONDEAU!" said the curate, mechanically.
"Repeat it! Repeat it!" cried d'Artagnan; "it will make a littlechange."
"Not so, for it is religious," replied Aramis; "it is theology inverse."
"The devil!" said d'Artagnan.
"Here it is," said Aramis, with a little look of diffidence, which,however, was not exempt from a shade of hypocrisy:
"Vous qui pleurez un passe plein de charmes, Et qui trainez des joursinfortunes, Tous vos malheurs se verront termines, Quand a Dieu seulvous offrirez vos larmes, Vous qui pleurez!"
"You who weep for pleasures fled, While dragging on a life of care, Allyour woes will melt in air, If to God your tears are shed, You whoweep!"
d'Artagnan and the curate appeared pleased. The Jesuit persisted in hisopinion. "Beware of a profane taste in your theological style. What saysAugustine on this subject: 'SEVERUS SIT CLERICORUM VERBO.'"
"Yes, let the sermon be clear," said the curate.
"Now," hastily interrupted the Jesuit, on seeing that his acolyte wasgoing astray, "now your thesis would please the ladies; it would havethe success of one of Monsieur Patru's pleadings."
"Please God!" cried Aramis, transported.
"There it is," cried the Jesuit; "the world still speaks within you in aloud voice, ALTISIMM VOCE. You follow the world, my young friend, and Itremble lest grace prove not efficacious."
"Be satisfied, my reverend father, I can answer for myself."
"Mundane presumption!"
"I know myself, Father; my resolution is irrevocable."
"Then you persist in continuing that thesis?"
"I feel myself called upon to treat that, and no other. I will see aboutthe continuation of it, and tomorrow I hope you will be satisfied withthe corrections I shall have made in consequence of your advice."
"Work slowly," said the curate; "we leave you in an excellent tone ofmind."
"Yes, the ground is all sown," said the Jesuit, "and we have not to fearthat one portion of the seed may have fallen upon stone, another uponthe highway, or that the birds of heaven have eaten the rest, AVES COELICOMEDERUNT ILLAM."
"Plague stifle you and your Latin!" said d'Artagnan, who began to feelall his patience exhausted.
"Farewell, my son," said the curate, "till tomorrow."
"Till tomorrow, rash youth," said the Jesuit. "You promise to become oneof the lights of the Church. Heaven grant that this light prove not adevouring fire!"
D'Artagnan, who for an hour past had been gnawing his nails withimpatience, was beginning to attack the quick.
The two men in black rose, bowed to Aramis and d'Artagnan, and advancedtoward the door. Bazin, who had been standing listening to all thiscontroversy with a pious jubilation, sprang toward them, took thebreviary of the curate and the missal of the Jesuit, and walkedrespectfully before them to clear their way.
Aramis conducted them to the foot of the stairs, and then immediatelycame up again to d'Artagnan, whose senses were still in a state ofconfusion.
When left alone, the two friends at first kept an embarrassed silence.It however became necessary for one of them to break it first, and asd'Artagnan appeared determined to leave that honor to his companion,Aramis said, "you see that I am returned to my fundamental ideas."
"Yes, efficacious grace has touched you, as that gentleman said justnow."
"Oh, these plans of retreat have been formed for a long time. You haveoften heard me speak of them, have you not, my friend?"
"Yes; but I confess I always thought you jested."
"With such things! Oh, d'Artagnan!"
"The devil! Why, people jest with death."
"And people are wrong, d'Artagnan; for death is the door which leads toperdition or to salvation."
"Granted; but if you please, let us not theologize, Aramis. You musthave had enough for today. As for me, I have almost forgotten the littleLatin I have ever known. Then I confess to you that I have eaten nothingsince ten o'clock this morning, and I am devilish hungry."
"We will dine directly, my friend; only you must please to remember thatthis is Friday. Now, on such a day I can neither eat flesh nor see iteaten. If you can be satisfied with my dinner-it consists of cookedtetragones and fruits."
"What do you mean by tetragones?" asked d'Artagnan, uneasily.
"I mean spinach," replied Aramis; "but on your account I will add someeggs, and that is a serious infraction of the rule-for eggs are meat,since they engender chickens."
"This feast is not very succulent; but never mind, I will put up with itfor the sake of remaining with you."
"I am grateful to you for the sacrifice," said Aramis; "but if your bodybe not greatly benefited by it, be assured your soul will."
"And so, Aramis, you are decidedly going into the Church? What will ourtwo friends say? What will Monsieur de Treville say? They will treat youas a deserter, I warn you."
"I do not enter the Church; I re-enter it. I deserted the Church for theworld, for you know that I forced myself when I became a Musketeer."
"I? I know nothing about it."
"You don't know I quit the seminary?"
"Not at all."
"This is my story, then. Besides, the Scriptures say, 'Confessyourselves to one another,' and I confess to you, d'Artagnan."
"And I give you absolution beforehand. You see I am a good sort of aman."
"Do not jest about holy things, my friend."
"Go on, then, I listen."
"I had been at the seminary from nine years old; in three days I shouldhave been twenty. I was about to become an abbe, and all was arranged.One evening I went, according to custom, to a house which I frequentedwith much pleasure: when one is young, what can be expected?--one isweak. An officer who saw me, with a jealous eye, reading the LIVES OFTHE SAINTS to the mistress of the house, entered suddenly and withoutbeing announced. That evening I had translated an episode of Judith, andhad just communicated my verses to the lady, who gave me all sorts ofcompliments, and leaning on my shoulder, was reading them a second timewith me. Her pose, which I must admit was rather free, wounded thisofficer. He said nothing; but when I went out he followed, and quicklycame up with me. 'Monsieur the Abbe,' said he, 'do you like blows with acane?' 'I cannot say, monsieur,' answered I; 'no one has ever dared togive me any.' 'Well, listen to me, then, Monsieur the Abbe! If youventure again into the house in which I have met you this evening, Iwill dare it myself.' I really think I must have been frightened. Ibecame very pale; I felt my legs fail me; I sought for a reply, butcould find none-I was silent. The officer waited for his reply, andseeing it so long coming, he burst into a laugh, turned upon his heel,and re-entered the house. I returned to the seminary.
"I am a gentleman born, and my blood is warm, as you may have remarked,my dear d'Artagnan. The insult was terrible, and although unknown to therest of the world, I felt it live and fester at the bottom of my heart.I informed my superiors that I did not feel myself sufficiently preparedfor ordination, and at my request the ceremony was postponed for a year.I sought out the best fencing master in Paris, I made an agreement withhim to take a lesson every day, and every day for a year I took thatlesson. Then, on the anniversary of the day on which I had beeninsulted, I hung my cassock on a peg, assumed the costume of a cavalier,and went to a ball given by a lady friend of mine and to which I knew myman was invited. It was in the Rue des France-Bourgeois, close to LaForce. As I expected, my officer was there. I went up to him as he wassinging a love ditty and looking tenderly at a lady, and interrupted himexactly in the middle of the second couplet. 'Monsi
eur,' said I, 'doesit still displease you that I should frequent a certain house of La RuePayenne? And would you still cane me if I took it into my head todisobey you? The officer looked at me with astonishment, and then said,'What is your business with me, monsieur? I do not know you.' 'I am,'said I, 'the little abbe who reads LIVES OF THE SAINTS, and translatesJudith into verse.' 'Ah, ah! I recollect now,' said the officer, in ajeering tone; 'well, what do you want with me?' 'I want you to sparetime to take a walk with me.' 'Tomorrow morning, if you like, with thegreatest pleasure.' 'No, not tomorrow morning, if you please, butimmediately.' 'If you absolutely insist.' 'I do insist upon it.' 'Come,then. Ladies,' said the officer, 'do not disturb yourselves; allow metime just to kill this gentleman, and I will return and finish the lastcouplet.'
"We went out. I took him to the Rue Payenne, to exactly the same spotwhere, a year before, at the very same hour, he had paid me thecompliment I have related to you. It was a superb moonlight night. Weimmediately drew, and at the first pass I laid him stark dead."
"The devil!" cried d'Artagnan.
"Now," continued Aramis, "as the ladies did not see the singer comeback, and as he was found in the Rue Payenne with a great sword woundthrough his body, it was supposed that I had accommodated him thus; andthe matter created some scandal which obliged me to renounce the cassockfor a time. Athos, whose acquaintance I made about that period, andPorthos, who had in addition to my lessons taught me some effectivetricks of fence, prevailed upon me to solicit the uniform of aMusketeer. The king entertained great regard for my father, who hadfallen at the siege of Arras, and the uniform was granted. You mayunderstand that the moment has come for me to re-enter the bosom of theChurch."
"And why today, rather than yesterday or tomorrow? What has happened toyou today, to raise all these melancholy ideas?"
"This wound, my dear d'Artagnan, has been a warning to me from heaven."
"This wound? Bah, it is now nearly healed, and I am sure it is not thatwhich gives you the most pain."
"What, then?" said Aramis, blushing.
"You have one at heart, Aramis, one deeper and more painful--a woundmade by a woman."
The eye of Aramis kindled in spite of himself.
"Ah," said he, dissembling his emotion under a feigned carelessness, "donot talk of such things, and suffer love pains? VANITAS VANITATUM!According to your idea, then, my brain is turned. And for whom-for someGRISETTE, some chambermaid with whom I have trifled in some garrison?Fie!"
"Pardon, my dear Aramis, but I thought you carried your eyes higher."
"Higher? And who am I, to nourish such ambition? A poor Musketeer, abeggar, an unknown--who hates slavery, and finds himself ill-placed inthe world."
"Aramis, Aramis!" cried d'Artagnan, looking at his friend with an air ofdoubt.
"Dust I am, and to dust I return. Life is full of humiliations andsorrows," continued he, becoming still more melancholy; "all the tieswhich attach him to life break in the hand of man, particularly thegolden ties. Oh, my dear d'Artagnan," resumed Aramis, giving to hisvoice a slight tone of bitterness, "trust me! Conceal your wounds whenyou have any; silence is the last joy of the unhappy. Beware of givinganyone the clue to your griefs; the curious suck our tears as flies suckthe blood of a wounded hart."
"Alas, my dear Aramis," said d'Artagnan, in his turn heaving a profoundsigh, "that is my story you are relating!"
"How?"
"Yes; a woman whom I love, whom I adore, has just been torn from me byforce. I do not know where she is or whither they have conducted her.She is perhaps a prisoner; she is perhaps dead!"
"Yes, but you have at least this consolation, that you can say toyourself she has not quit you voluntarily, that if you learn no news ofher, it is because all communication with you is interdicted; while I--"
"Well?"
"Nothing," replied Aramis, "nothing."
"So you renounce the world, then, forever; that is a settled thing--aresolution registered!"
"Forever! You are my friend today; tomorrow you will be no more to methan a shadow, or rather, even, you will no longer exist. As for theworld, it is a sepulcher and nothing else."
"The devil! All this is very sad which you tell me."
"What will you? My vocation commands me; it carries me away."
D'Artagnan smiled, but made no answer.
Aramis continued, "And yet, while I do belong to the earth, I wish tospeak of you--of our friends."
"And on my part," said d'Artagnan, "I wished to speak of you, but I findyou so completely detached from everything! To love you cry, 'Fie!Friends are shadows! The world is a sepulcher!'"
"Alas, you will find it so yourself," said Aramis, with a sigh.
"Well, then, let us say no more about it," said d'Artagnan; "and let usburn this letter, which, no doubt, announces to you some freshinfidelity of your GRISETTE or your chambermaid."
"What letter?" cried Aramis, eagerly.
"A letter which was sent to your abode in your absence, and which wasgiven to me for you."
"But from whom is that letter?"
"Oh, from some heartbroken waiting woman, some desponding GRISETTE; fromMadame de Chevreuse's chambermaid, perhaps, who was obliged to return toTours with her mistress, and who, in order to appear smart andattractive, stole some perfumed paper, and sealed her letter with aduchess's coronet."
"What do you say?"
"Hold! I must have lost it," said the young man maliciously, pretendingto search for it. "But fortunately the world is a sepulcher; the men,and consequently the women, are but shadows, and love is a sentiment towhich you cry, 'Fie! Fie!'"
"d'Artagnan, d'Artagnan," cried Aramis, "you are killing me!"
"Well, here it is at last!" said d'Artagnan, as he drew the letter fromhis pocket.
Aramis made a bound, seized the letter, read it, or rather devoured it,his countenance radiant.
"This same waiting maid seems to have an agreeable style," said themessenger, carelessly.
"Thanks, d'Artagnan, thanks!" cried Aramis, almost in a state ofdelirium. "She was forced to return to Tours; she is not faithless; shestill loves me! Come, my friend, come, let me embrace you. Happinessalmost stifles me!"
The two friends began to dance around the venerable St. Chrysostom,kicking about famously the sheets of the thesis, which had fallen on thefloor.
At that moment Bazin entered with the spinach and the omelet.
"Be off, you wretch!" cried Aramis, throwing his skullcap in his face."Return whence you came; take back those horrible vegetables, and thatpoor kickshaw! Order a larded hare, a fat capon, mutton leg dressed withgarlic, and four bottles of old Burgundy."
Bazin, who looked at his master, without comprehending the cause of thischange, in a melancholy manner, allowed the omelet to slip into thespinach, and the spinach onto the floor.
"Now this is the moment to consecrate your existence to the King ofkings," said d'Artagnan, "if you persist in offering him a civility. NONINUTILE DESIDERIUM OBLATIONE."
"Go to the devil with your Latin. Let us drink, my dear d'Artagnan,MORBLEU! Let us drink while the wine is fresh! Let us drink heartily,and while we do so, tell me a little of what is going on in the worldyonder."