was beginning to court popularity by almsgiving. It was to
this end that he performed from time to time some of those
early masses which the common people, generally, alone
attended.
*A sacerdotal officer.
D’Artagnan knelt as well as the rest, received his share of
the benediction and made the sign of the cross; but when
Bazin passed in his turn, with his eyes raised to Heaven and
walking, in all humility, the very last, D’Artagnan pulled
him by the hem of his robe.
Bazin looked down and started, as if he had seen a serpent.
“Monsieur d’Artagnan!” he cried; “Vade retro Satanas!”
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Dumas, Alexandre – Twenty Years After
“So, my dear Bazin!” said the officer, laughing, “this is
the way you receive an old friend.”
“Sir,” replied Bazin, “the true friends of a Christian are
those who aid him in working out his salvation, not those
who hinder him in doing so.”
“I don’t understand you, Bazin; nor can I see how I can be a
stumbling-block in the way of your salvation,” said
D’Artagnan.
“You forget, sir, that you very nearly ruined forever that
of my master; and that it was owing to you that he was very
nearly being damned eternally for remaining a musketeer,
whilst all the time his true vocation was the church.”
“My dear Bazin, you ought to perceive,” said D’Artagnan,
“from the place in which you find me, that I am greatly
changed in everything. Age produces good sense, and, as I
doubt not but that your master is on the road to salvation,
I want you to tell me where he is, that he may help me to
mine.”
“Rather say, to take him back with you into the world.
Fortunately, I don’t know where he is.”
“How!” cried D’Artagnan; “you don’t know where Aramis is?”
“Formerly,” replied Bazin, “Aramis was his name of
perdition. By Aramis is meant Simara, which is the name of a
demon. Happily for him he has ceased to bear that name.”
“And therefore,” said D’Artagnan, resolved to be patient to
the end, “it is not Aramis I seek, but the Abbe d’Herblay.
Come, my dear Bazin, tell me where he is.”
“Didn’t you hear me tell you, Monsieur d’Artagnan, that I
don’t know where he is?”
“Yes, certainly; but to that I answer that it is
impossible.”
“It is, nevertheless, the truth, monsieur — the pure truth,
the truth of the good God.”
D’Artagnan saw clearly that he would get nothing out of this
man, who was evidently telling a falsehood in his pretended
ignorance of the abode of Aramis, but whose lies were bold
and decided.
“Well, Bazin,” said D’Artagnan, “since you do not know where
your master lives, let us speak of it no more; let us part
good friends. Accept this half-pistole to drink to my
health.”
“I do not drink” — Bazin pushed away with dignity the
officer’s hand — “’tis good only for the laity.”
“Incorruptible!” murmured D’Artagnan; “I am unlucky;” and
whilst he was lost in thought Bazin retreated toward the
sacristy, and even there he could not think himself safe
until he had shut and locked the door behind him.
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Dumas, Alexandre – Twenty Years After
D’Artagnan was still in deep thought when some one touched
him on the shoulder. He turned and was about to utter an
exclamation of surprise when the other made to him a sign of
silence.
“You here, Rochefort?” he said, in a low voice.
“Hush!” returned Rochefort. “Did you know that I am at
liberty?”
“I knew it from the fountain-head — from Planchet. And what
brought you here?”
“I came to thank God for my happy deliverance,” said
Rochefort.
“And nothing more? I suppose that is not all.”
“To take my orders from the coadjutor and to see if we
cannot wake up Mazarin a little.”
“A bad plan; you’ll be shut up again in the Bastile.”
“Oh, as to that, I shall take care, I assure you. The air,
the fresh, free air is so good; besides,” and Rochefort drew
a deep breath as he spoke, “I am going into the country to
make a tour.”
“Stop,” cried D’Artagnan; “I, too, am going.”