“I leave you, D’Artagnan,” said Athos.
“Not before I have presented Monsieur Baisemeaux de
Montlezun, the governor of the Bastile.”
Baisemeaux and Athos saluted each other.
“Surely you must know each other,” said D’Artagnan.
“I have an indistinct recollection of Monsieur Baisemeaux,”
said Athos.
“You remember, my dear, Baisemeaux, the king’s guardsman
with whom we used formerly to have such delightful meetings
in the cardinal’s time?”
“Perfectly,” said Athos, taking leave of him with
affability.
“Monsieur le Comte de la Fere, whose nom de guerre was
Athos,” whispered D’Artagnan to Baisemeaux.
“Yes, yes, a brave man, one of the celebrated four.”
“Precisely so. But, my dear Baisemeaux, shall we talk now?”
“If you please.”
“In the first place, as for the orders — there are none.
The king does not intend to arrest the person in question.”
“So much the worse,” said Baisemeaux with a sigh.
“What do you mean by so much the worse?” exclaimed
D’Artagnan, laughing.
“No doubt of it,” returned the governor, “my prisoners are
my income.”
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Dumas, Alexandre – Ten Years Later
“I beg your pardon, I did not see it in that light.”
“And so there are no orders,” repeated Baisemeaux with a
sigh. “What an admirable situation yours is captain,” he
continued, after a pause, “captain-lieutenant of the
musketeers.”
“Oh, it is good enough; but I don’t see why you should envy
me; you, governor of the Bastile, the first castle in
France.”
“I am well aware of that,” said Baisemeaux, in a sorrowful
tone of voice.
“You say that like a man confessing his sins. I would
willingly exchange my profits for yours.”
“Don’t speak of profits to me if you wish to save me the
bitterest anguish of mind.”
“Why do you look first on one side and then on the other, as
if you were afraid of being arrested yourself, you whose
business it is to arrest others?”
“I was looking to see whether any one could see or listen to
us; it would be safer to confer more in private, if you
would grant me such a favor.”
“Baisemeaux, you seem to forget we are acquaintances of five
and thirty years’ standing. Don’t assume such sanctified
airs; make yourself quite comfortable; I don’t eat governors
of the Bastile raw.”
“Heaven be praised!”
“Come into the courtyard with me, it’s a beautiful moonlight
night; we will walk up and down arm in arm under the trees,
while you tell me your pitiful tale.” He drew the doleful
governor into the courtyard, took him by the arm as he had
said, and, in his rough, good-humored way, cried: “Out with
it, rattle away, Baisemeaux; what have you got to say?”
“It’s a long story.”
“You prefer your own lamentations, then; my opinion is, it
will be longer than ever. I’ll wager you are making fifty
thousand francs out of your pigeons in the Bastile.”
“Would to heaven that were the case, M. d’Artagnan.”
“You surprise me, Baisemeaux; just look at you, acting the
anchorite. I should like to show you your face in a glass,
and you would see how plump and florid-looking you are, as
fat and round as a cheese, with eyes like lighted coals; and
if it were not for that ugly wrinkle you try to cultivate on
your forehead, you would hardly look fifty years old, and
you are sixty, if I am not mistaken.”
“All quite true.”
“Of course I knew it was true, as true as the fifty thousand
francs profit you make,” at which remark Baisemeaux stamped
on the ground.
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Dumas, Alexandre – Ten Years Later
“Well, well,” said D’Artagnan, “I will add up your accounts
for you: you were captain of M. Mazarin’s guards; and twelve
thousand francs a year would in twelve years amount to one
hundred and forty thousand francs.”
“Twelve thousand francs! Are you mad?” cried Baisemeaux;
“the old miser gave me no more than six thousand, and the
expenses of the post amounted to six thousand five hundred
francs. M. Colbert, who deducted the other six thousand
francs, condescended to allow me to take fifty pistoles as a
gratification; so that, if it were not for my little estate