head was bowed and his eyes became dim, as he followed
Baisemeaux without a syllable.
CHAPTER 100
The Second Floor of la Bertaudiere
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Dumas, Alexandre – Ten Years Later
On the second flight of stairs, whether from fatigue or
emotion, the breathing of the visitor began to fail him, and
he leaned against the wall. “Will you begin with this one?”
said Baisemeaux; “for since we are going to both, it matters
very little whether we ascend from the second to the third
story, or descend from the third to the second.”
“No, no,” exclaimed Aramis, eagerly, “higher, if you please;
the one above is the more urgent.” They continued their
ascent. “Ask the jailer for the keys,” whispered Aramis.
Baisemeaux did so, took the keys, and, himself, opened the
door of the third room. The jailer was the first to enter;
he placed upon the table the provisions, which the
kind-hearted governor called dainties, and then left the
room. The prisoner had not stirred; Baisemeaux then entered,
while Aramis remained at the threshold, from which place he
saw a youth about eighteen years of age, who, raising his
head at the unusual noise, jumped off the bed, as he
perceived the governor, and clasping his hands together,
began to cry out, “My mother, my mother,” in tones which
betrayed such deep distress that Aramis, despite his command
over himself, felt a shudder pass through his frame. “My
dear boy,” said Baisemeaux, endeavoring to smile, “I have
brought you a diversion and an extra, — the one for the
mind, the other for the body; this gentleman has come to
take your measure, and here are some preserves for your
dessert.”
“Oh, monsieur,” exclaimed the young man, “keep me in
solitude for a year, let me have nothing but bread and water
for a year, but tell me that at the end of a year I shall
leave this place, tell me that at the end of a year I shall
see my mother again.”
“But I have heard you say that your mother was very poor,
and that you were very badly lodged when you were living
with her, while here — upon my word!”
“If she were poor, monsieur, the greater reason to restore
her only means of support to her. Badly lodged with her! Oh,
monsieur, every one is always well lodged when he is free.”
“At all events, since you yourself admit you have done
nothing but write that unhappy distich —- ”
“But without any intention, I swear. Let me be punished —
cut off the hand which wrote it, I will work with the other
— but restore my mother to me.”
“My boy,” said Baisemeaux, “you know very well that it does
not depend upon me; all I can do for you is to increase your
rations, give you a glass of port wine now and then, slip in
a biscuit for you between a couple of plates.”
“Great heaven!” exclaimed the young man, falling backward
and rolling on the ground.
Aramis, unable to bear this scene any longer, withdrew as
far as the landing. “Unhappy, wretched man,” he murmured.
“Yes, monsieur, he is indeed very wretched,” said the
jailer; “but it is his parents’ fault.
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“In what way?”
“No doubt. Why did they let him learn Latin? Too much
knowledge, you see; it is that which does harm. Now I, for
instance, can’t read or write, and therefore I am not in
prison.” Aramis looked at the man, who seemed to think that
being a jailer in the Bastile was not being in prison. As
for Baisemeaux, noticing the little effect produced by his
advice and his port wine, he left the dungeon quite upset.
“You have forgotten to close the door,” said the jailer.
“So I have,” said Baisemeaux, “there are the keys, do you do
it.”
“I will solicit the pardon of that poor boy,” said Aramis.
“And if you do not succeed,” said Baisemeaux, “at least beg
that he may be transferred to the ten-franc list, by which
both he and I shall be gainers.”
“If the other prisoner calls out for his mother in a similar