“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 you, who drinks long and well! That kind of people allow you at least to penetrate their thoughts.”
“Baisemeaux, make me tipsy tonight! Let us have a debauch as of old; and if I have a trouble at the bottom of my heart, I promise you, you shall see it as you would a diamond at the bottom of your glass.”
“Bravo!” said Baisemeaux; and he poured out a great glass of wine and drank it off at a draught, trembling with joy at the idea of being, by hook or by crook, in the secret of some high archiepiscopal misdemeanor. While he was drinking he did not see with what attention Aramis was noting the sounds in the great court. A courier arrived about eight o’clock, as Francois brought in the fifth bottle; and although the courier made a great noise, Baisemeaux heard nothing.
“The devil take him!” said Aramis.
“What? who?” asked Baisemeaux. “I hope ’tis neither the wine you drink nor he who causes you to drink it.”
“No; it is a horse, who is making noise enough in the court for a whole squadron.”
“Pooh! some courier or other,” replied the governor, redoubling his numerous bumpers. “Yes, the devil take him, and so quickly that we shall never hear him speak more! Hurrah! hurrah!”
“You forget me, Baisemeaux! my glass is empty,” said Aramis, showing his dazzling goblet.
“Upon honor, you delight me. Francois, wine!” Francois entered. “Wine, fellow! and better.”
“Yes, Monsieur, yes; but a courier has just arrived.”
“Let him go to the devil, I say.”
“Yes, Monsieur, but-”
“Let him leave his news at the office; we will see to it to-morrow. To-morrow,- there will be time to-morrow; there will be daylight,” said Baisemeaux, chanting the words.
“Ah, Monsieur,” grumbled the soldier Francois, in spite of himself,- “Monsieur!”
“Take care,” said Aramis, “take care!”
“Of what, dear M. d’Herblay?” said Baisemeaux, half intoxicated.
“The letter which the courier brings to the governor of a fortress is sometimes an order.”
“Nearly always.”
“Do not orders issue from the ministers?”
“Yes, undoubtedly; but-”
“And what do these ministers do but countersign the signature of the King?”
“Perhaps you are right. Nevertheless, ’tis very tiresome when you are sitting before a good table, tete-a-tete with a friend- Ah! I beg your pardon, Monsieur; I forgot that it is I who invite you to supper, and that I speak to a future cardinal.”
“Let us pass over that, dear Baisemeaux, and return to our soldier,- to Francois.”
“Well, and what has Francois done?”
“He has demurred!”
“He was wrong, then.”
“However, he has demurred, you see; ’tis because there is something extraordinary in this matter. It is very possible that it was not Francois who was wrong in demurring, but you, who will be wrong in not listening to him.”
“Wrong! I to be wrong before Francois!- that seems rather hard.”
“Pardon me, merely an irregularity. But I thought it my duty to make an observation which I deem important.”
“Oh, perhaps you are right!” stammered Baisemeaux. “The King’s order is sacred; but as to orders that arrive when one is at supper, I repeat, may the devil-”
“If you had said as much to the great cardinal, eh! my dear Baisemeaux, and if his order had been important-”
“I do it that I may not disturb a bishop. Morbleu! Am I not, then, excusable?”