“He suffers imprisonment, at all events.”
“No doubt; there is no help for that, but this suffering is
sweetened for him. You must admit that this young fellow was
not born to eat all the good things he does eat; for
instance, such things as we have on the table now; this
pasty that has not been touched, these crawfish from the
River Marne, of which we have hardly taken any, and which
are almost as large as lobsters; all these things will at
once be taken to second Bertaudiere, with a bottle of that
Volnay which you think so excellent. After you have seen it
you will believe it, I hope.”
“Yes, my dear governor, certainly; but all this time you are
thinking only of your very happy fifteen-franc prisoner, and
you forget poor Seldon, my protege.”
“Well, out of consideration for you, it shall be a gala day
for him; he shall have some biscuits and preserves with this
small bottle of port.”
“You are a good-hearted fellow; I have said so already, and
I repeat it, my dear Baisemeaux.”
“Well, let us set off, then,” said the governor, a little
bewildered, partly from the wine he had drunk, and partly
from Aramis’s praises.
“Do not forget that I only go to oblige you,” said the
prelate.
“Very well; but you will thank me when you get there.”
“Let us go, then.”
“Wait until I have summoned the jailer,” said Baisemeaux, as
he struck the bell twice, at which summons a man appeared.
“I am going to visit the towers,” said the governor. “No
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guards, no drums, no noise at all.”
“If I were not to leave my cloak here,” said Aramis,
pretending to be alarmed; “I should really think I was going
to prison on my own account.”
The jailer preceded the governor, Aramis walking on his
right hand; some of the soldiers who happened to be in the
courtyard drew themselves up in line, as stiff as posts, as
the governor passed along. Baisemeaux led the way down
several steps which conducted to a sort of esplanade; thence
they arrived at the draw-bridge, where the sentinels on duty
received the governor with the proper honors. The governor
turned toward Aramis, and, speaking in such a tone that the
sentinels could not lose a word, he observed, — “I hope you
have a good memory, monsieur?”
“Why?” inquired Aramis.
“On account of your plans and your measurements, for you
know that no one is allowed, not architects even, to enter
where the prisoners are, with paper, pens or pencil.”
“Good,” said Aramis to himself, “it seems I am an architect,
then. It sounds like one of D’Artagnan’s jokes, who
perceived in me the engineer of Belle-Isle.” Then he added
aloud: “Be easy on that score, monsieur; in our profession,
a mere glance and a good memory are quite sufficient.”
Baisemeaux did not change countenance, and the soldiers took
Aramis for what he seemed to be. “Very well; we will first
visit la Bertaudiere, “said Baisemeaux, still intending the
sentinels to hear him. Then, turning to the jailer, he
added: “You will take the opportunity of carrying to No. 2
the few dainties I pointed out.”
“Dear M. de Baisemeaux,” said Aramis, “you are always
forgetting No. 3.”
“So I am,” said the governor; and upon that, they began to
ascend. The number of bolts, gratings, and locks for this
single courtyard would have sufficed for the safety of an
entire city. Aramis was neither an imaginative nor a
sensitive man; he had been somewhat of a poet in his youth,
but his heart was hard and indifferent, as the heart of
every man of fifty-five years of age is, who has been
frequently and passionately attached to women in his
lifetime, or rather who has been passionately loved by them.
But when he placed his foot upon the worn stone steps, along
which so many unhappy wretches had passed, when he felt
himself impregnated, as it were, with the atmosphere of
those gloomy dungeons, moistened with tears, there could be
but little doubt he was overcome by his feelings, for his