“But,” replied the unhappy man, “having no notice, I was far from expecting.”
“Does not the Gospel say, ‘Watch, for the moment is known only of God’? Do not the rules of the order say, ‘Watch; for that which I will, you ought always to will also’? And on what pretext is it that you did not expect the confessor, M. de Baisemeaux?”
“Because, Monseigneur, there is at present in the Bastille no prisoner ill.”
Aramis shrugged his shoulder. “What do you know about that?” said he.
“But nevertheless, it appears to me-”
“M. de Baisemeaux,” said Aramis, turning round in his chair, “here is your servant, who wishes to speak with you”; and at this moment Baisemeaux’s servant appeared at the threshold of the door.
“What is it?” asked Baisemeaux, sharply.
“Monsieur,” said the man, “they are bringing you the doctor’s return.”
Aramis looked at Baisemeaux with a calm and confident eye.
“Well,” said Baisemeaux, “let the messenger enter.”
The messenger entered, saluted, and handed in the report. Baisemeaux ran his eye over it, and raising his head said, in surprise, “No. 2 Bertaudiere is ill.”
“How was it, then,” said Aramis, carelessly, “that you told me everybody was well in your hotel, M. de Baisemeaux?” and he emptied his glass without removing his eyes from Baisemeaux.
The governor then made a sign to the messenger, and when he had quitted the room said, still trembling, “I think that there is in the article, ‘on the prisoner’s demand.'”
“Yes, it is so”; answered Aramis. “But see what it is they want with you now, dear M. de Baisemeaux.”
At that moment a sergeant put his head in at the door. “What do you want now?” cried Baisemeaux. “Can you not leave me in peace for ten minutes?”
“Monsieur,” said the sergeant, “the sick man, No. 2 Bertaudiere, has commissioned the turnkey to request you to send him a confessor.”
Baisemeaux very nearly sank on the floor; but Aramis disdained to reassure him, just as he had disdained to terrify him. “What must I answer?” inquired Baisemeaux.
“Just what you please,” replied Aramis, compressing his lips; “that is your business. I am not governor of the Bastille.”
“Tell the prisoner,” cried Baisemeaux, quickly,- “tell the prisoner that his request is granted.” The sergeant left the room. “Oh, Monseigneur, Monseigneur,” murmured Baisemeaux, “how could I have suspected?- how could I have foreseen this?”
“Who told you to suspect, and who asked you to foresee?” contemptuously answered Aramis. “The order suspects, the order knows, the order foresees,- is not that enough?”
“What do you command?” added Baisemeaux.
“I?- nothing at all. I am nothing but a poor priest, a simple confessor. Have I your orders to go and see the sufferer?”
“Oh, Monseigneur, I do not order; I pray you to go.”
“‘Tis well; then conduct me to him.”
Chapter XXIX: The Prisoner
SINCE Aramis’s singular transformation into a confessor of the order, Baisemeaux was no longer the same man. Up to that period the place which Aramis had held in the worthy governor’s estimation was that of a prelate whom he respected and a friend to whom he owed a debt of gratitude; but after that revelation which had upset all his ideas, he felt himself an inferior, and that Aramis was his master. He himself lighted a lantern, summoned a turnkey, and said, returning to Aramis, “I am at your orders, Monseigneur.”
Aramis merely nodded his head, as much as to say, “Very good”; and signed to him with his hand to lead the way. Baisemeaux advanced, and Aramis followed him.
It was a beautiful starry night; the steps of the three men resounded on the flags of the terraces, and the clinking of the keys hanging from the jailer’s girdle made itself heard up to the stories of the towers, as if to remind the prisoners that liberty was out of their reach. It might have been said that the alteration effected in Baisemeaux had extended itself even to the prisoners. The turnkey, the same who on Aramis’s first arrival had shown himself so inquisitive and curious, had now become not only silent, but even impassible. He held his head down, and seemed afraid to keep his ears open. In this wise they reached the basement of the Bertaudiere, the first two stories of which were mounted silently and somewhat slowly; for Baisemeaux, though far from disobeying, was far from exhibiting any eagerness to obey. Finally, they arrived at the door. The jailer had the key ready, and opened the door. Baisemeaux showed a disposition to enter the prisoner’s chamber; but Aramis, stopping him on the threshold, said, “The rules do not allow the governor to hear the prisoner’s confession.”
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