D'Artagnan had said nothing to Porthos of his wound or of hisprocurator's wife. Our Bernais was a prudent lad, however younghe might be. Consequently he had appeared to believe all thatthe vainglorious Musketeer had told him, convinced that nofriendship will hold out against a surprised secret. Besides, wefeel always a sort of mental superiority over those whose liveswe know better than they suppose. In his projects of intriguefor the future, and determined as he was to make his threefriends the instruments of his fortune, D'Artagnan was not sorryat getting into his grasp beforehand the invisible strings bywhich he reckoned upon moving them.

And yet, as he journeyed along, a profound sadness weighed uponhis heart. He thought of that young and pretty Mme. Bonacieuxwho was to have paid him the price of his devotedness; but let ushasten to say that this sadness possessed the young man less fromthe regret of the happiness he had missed, than from the fear heentertained that some serious misfortune had befallen the poorwoman. For himself, he had no doubt she was a victim of thecardinal's vengeance; and, and as was well known, the vengeanceof his Eminence was terrible. How he had found grace in the eyesf the minister, he did not know; but without doubt M. de Cavoiswould have revealed this to him if the captain of the Guards hadfound him at home.

Nothing makes time pass more quickly or more shortens a journeythan a thought which absorbs in itself all the faculties of theorganization of him who thinks. External existence thenresembles a sleep of which this thought is the dream. By itsinfluence, time has no longer measure, space has no longerdistance. We depart from one place, and arrive at another, thatis all. Of the interval passed, nothing remains in the memorybut a vague mist in which a thousand confused images of trees,mountains, and landscapes are lost. It was as a prey to thishallucination that D'Artagnan traveled, at whatever pace hishorse pleased, the six or eight leagues that separated Chantillyfrom Crevecoeur, without his being able to remember on hisarrival in the village any of the things he had passed or metwith on the road.

There only his memory returned to him. He shook his head,perceived the cabaret at which he had left Aramis, and puttinghis horse to the trot, he shortly pulled up at the door.

This time is was not a host but a hostess who received him.D'Artagnan was a physiognomist. His eye took in at a glance theplump, cheerful countenance of the mistress of the place, and heat once perceived there was no occasion for dissembling with her,or of fearing anything from one blessed with such a joyousphysiognomy.

"My good dame," asked D'Artagnan, "can you tell me what hasbecome of one of my friends, whom we were obliged to leave hereabout a dozen days ago?"

"A handsome young man, three- or four-and-twenty years old, mild,amiable, and well made?"

"That is he - wounded in the shoulder."

"Just so. Well, monsieur, he is still here."

"Ah, PARDIEU! My dear dame," said D'Artagnan, springing from hishorse, and throwing the bridle to Planchet, "you restore me tolife; where is this dear Aramis? Let me embrace him, I am in ahurry to see him again."

"Pardon, monsieur, but I doubt whether he can see you at thismoment."

"Why so? Has he a lady with him?"

"Jesus! What do you mean by that? Poor lad! No, monsieur, hehas not a lady with him."

"With whom is he, then?"

"With the curate of Montdidier and the superior of the Jesuits ofAmiens."

"Good heavens!" cried D'Artagnan, "is the poor fellow worse,then?"

"No, monsieur, quite the contrary; but after his illness gracetouched him, and he determined to take orders."

"That's it!" said D'Artagnan, "I had forgotten that he was only aMusketeer for a time."

"Monsieur still insists upon seeing him?"

"More than ever."

"Well, monsieur has only to take the right-hand staircase in thecourtyard, and knock at Number Five on the second floor."

D'Artagnan walked quickly in the direction indicated, and foundone of those exterior staircases that are still to be seen in theyards of our old-fashioned taverns. But there was no getting atthe place of sojourn of the future abbe; the defiles of thechamber of Aramis were as well guarded as the gardens of Armida.Bazin was stationed in the corridor, and barred his passage withthe more intrepidity that, after many years of trial, Bazin foundhimself near a result of which he had ever been ambitious.

In fact, the dream of poor Bazin had always been to serve achurchman; and he awaited with impatience the moment, always inthe future, when Aramis would throw aside the uniform and assumethe cassock. The daily-renewed promise of the young man that themoment would not long be delayed, had alone kept him in theservice of a Musketeer - a service in which, he said, his soul wasin constant jeopardy.

Bazin was then at the height of joy. In all probability, thistime his master would not retract. The union of physical painwith moral uneasiness had produced the effect so long desired.Aramis, suffering at once in body and mind, had at length fixedhis eyes and his thoughts upon religion, and he had considered asa warning from heaven the double accident which had happened tohim; that is to say, the sudden disappearance of his mistress andthe wound in his shoulder.

It may be easily understood that in the present disposition ofhis master nothing could be more disagreeable to Bazin than thearrival of D'Artagnan, which might cast his master back againinto that vortex of mundane affairs which had so long carried himaway. He resolved, then, to defend the door bravely; and as,betrayed by the mistress of the inn, he could not say that Aramiswas absent, he endeavored to prove to the newcomer that it wouldbe the height of indiscretion to disturb his master in his piousconference, which had commenced with the morning and would not,as Bazin said, terminate before night.

But D'Artagnan took very little heed of the eloquent discourse ofM. Bazin; and as he had no desire to support a polemic discussionwith his friend's valet, he simply moved him out of the way withone hand, and with the other turned the handle of the door ofNumber Five. The door opened, and D'Artagnan went into thechamber.

Aramis, in a black gown, his head enveloped in a sort of roundflat cap, not much unlike a CALOTTE, was seated before an oblongtable, covered with rolls of paper and enormous volumes in folio.At his right hand was placed the superior of the Jesuits, and onhis left the curate of Montdidier. The curtains were half drawn,and only admitted the mysterious light calculated for beatificreveries. All the mundane objects that generally strike the eyeon entering the room of a young man, particularly when that youngman is a Musketeer, had disappeared as if by enchantment; and forfear, no doubt, that the sight of them might bring his masterback to ideas of this world, Bazin had laid his hands upon sword,pistols, plumed hat, and embroideries and laces of all kinds andsorts. In their stead D'Artagnan thought he perceived in anobscure corner a discipline cord suspended from a nail in thewall.

At the noise made by D'Artagnan in entering, Aramis lifted up hishead, and beheld his friend; but to the great astonishment of theyoung man, the sight of him did not produce much effect upon theMusketeer, so completely was his mind detached from the things ofthis world.

"Good day, dear D'Artagnan," said Aramis; "believe me, I am gladto see you."

"So am I delighted to see you," said D'Artagnan, "although I amnot yet sure that it is Aramis I am speaking to."

"To himself, my friend, to himself! But what makes you doubtit?"

"I was afraid I had made a mistake in the chamber, and that I hadfound my way into the apartment of some churchman. Then anothererror seized me on seeing you in company with these gentlemen - Iwas afraid you were dangerously ill."

The two men in black, who guessed D'Artagnan's meaning, darted athim a glance which might have been thought threatening; butD'Artagnan took no heed of it.

"I disturb you, perhaps, my dear Aramis," continued D'Artagnan,"for by what I see, I am led to believe that you are confessingto these gentlemen."

Aramis colored imperceptibly. "You disturb me? Oh, quite thecontrary, dear friend, I swear; and as a proof of what I say,permit me to declare I am rejoiced to see you safe and sound."

"Ah, he'll come round," thought D'Artagnan; "that's not bad!"

"This gentleman, who is my friend, has just escaped from aserious danger," continued Aramis, with unction, pointing toD'Artagnan with his hand, and addressing the two ecclesiastics.

"Praise God, monsieur," replied they, bowing together.

"I have not failed to do so, your Reverences," replied the youngman, returning their salutation.

"You arrive in good time, dear D'Artagnan," said Aramis, "and bytaking part in our discussion may assist us with yourintelligence. Monsieur the Principal of Amiens, Monsieur theCurate of Montdidier, and I are arguing certain theologicalquestions in which we have been much interested; I shall bedelighted to have your opinion."

"The opinion of a swordsman can have very little weight," repliedD'Artagnan, who began to be uneasy at the turn things weretaking, "and you had better be satisfied, believe me, with theknowledge of these gentlemen."

The two men in black bowed in their turn.

"On the contrary," replied Aramis, "your opinion will be veryvaluable. The question is this: Monsieur the Principal thinksthat my thesis ought to be dogmatic and didactic."

"Your thesis! Are you then making a thesis?"

"Without doubt," replied the Jesuit. "In the examination whichprecedes ordination, a thesis is always a requisite."

"Ordination!" cried D'Artagnan, who could not believe what thehostess and Bazin had successively told him; and he gazed, halfstupefied, upon the three persons before him.

"Now," continued Aramis, taking the same graceful position in hiseasy chair that he would have assumed in bed, and complacentlyexamining his hand, which was as white and plump as that of awoman, and which he held in the air to cause the blood todescend, "now, as you have heard, D'Artagnan, Monsieur thePrincipal is desirous that my thesis should be dogmatic, while I,for my part, would rather it should be ideal. This is the reasonwhy Monsieur the Principal has proposed to me the followingsubject, which has not yet been treated upon, and in which Iperceive there is matter for magnificent elaboration-'UTRAQUEMANUS IN BENEDICENDO CLERICIS INFERIORIBUS NECESSARIA EST.'"

D'Artagnan, whose erudition we are well acquainted with, evincedno more interest on hearing this quotation than he had at that ofM. de Treville in allusion to the gifts he pretended thatD'Artagnan had received from the Duke of Buckingham.

"Which means," resumed Aramis, that he might perfectlyunderstand, "'The two hands are indispensable for priests of theinferior orders, when they bestow the benediction.'"

"An admirable subject!" cried the Jesuit.

"Admirable and dogmatic!" repeated the curate, who, about asstrong as D'Artagnan with respect to Latin, carefully watched theJesuit in order to keep step with him, and repeated his wordslike an echo.

As to D'Artagnan, he remained perfectly insensible to theenthusiasm of the two men in black.

"Yes, admirable! PRORSUS ADMIRABILE!" continued Aramis; "butwhich requires a profound study of both the Scriptures and theFathers. Now, I have confessed to these learned ecclesiastics,and that in all humility, that the duties of mounting guard andthe service of the king have caused me to neglect study a little.I should find myself, therefore, more at my ease, FACILUS NATANS,in a subject of my own choice, which would be to these hardtheological questions what morals are to metaphysics inphilosophy."

D'Artagnan began to be tired, and so did the curate.

"See what an exordium!" cried the Jesuit.

"Exordium," repeated the curate, for the sake of sayingsomething. "QUEMADMODUM INTER COELORUM IMMENSITATEM."

Aramis cast a glance upon D'Artagnan to see what effect all thisproduced, and found his friend gaping enough to split his jaws.

"Let us speak French, my father," said he to the Jesuit;"Monsieur D'Artagnan will enjoy our conversation better."

"Yes," replied D'Artagnan; "I am fatigued with reading, and allthis Latin confuses me."

"Certainly," replied the Jesuit, a little put out, while thecurate, greatly delighted, turned upon D'Artagnan a look full ofgratitude. "Well, let us see what is to be derived from thisgloss. Moses, the servant of God-he was but a servant, please tounderstand-Moses blessed with the hands; he held out both hisarms while the Hebrews beat their enemies, and then he blessedthem with his two hands. Besides, what does the Gospel say?IMPONITE MANUS, and not MANUM-place the HANDS, not the HAND."

"Place the HANDS," repeated the curate, with a gesture.

"St. Peter, on the contrary, of whom the Popes are thesuccessors," continued the Jesuit; "PORRIGE DIGITOS-present thefingers. Are you there, now?"

"CERTES," replied Aramis, in a pleased tone, "but the thing issubtle."

"The FINGERS," resumed the Jesuit, "St. Peter blessed with theFINGERS. The Pope, therefore blesses with the fingers. And withhow many fingers does he bless? With THREE fingers, to be sure-one for the Father, one for the Son, and one for the Holy Ghost."

All crossed themselves. D'Artagnan thought it was proper tofollow this example.

"The Pope is the successor of St. Peter, and represents the threedivine powers; the rest-ORDINES INFERIORES-of the ecclesiasticalhierarchy bless in the name of the holy archangels and angels.The most humble clerks such as our deacons and sacristans, blesswith holy water sprinklers, which resemble an infinite number ofblessing fingers. There is the subject simplified. ARGUMENTUMOMNI DENUDATUM ORNAMENTO. I could make of that subject twovolumes the size of this," continued the Jesuit; and in hisenthusiasm he struck a St. Chrysostom in folio, which made thetable bend beneath its weight.

D'Artagnan trembled.

"CERTES," said Aramis, "I do justice to the beauties of thisthesis; but at the same time I perceive it would be overwhelmingfor me. I had chosen this text-tell me, dear D'Artagnan, if itis not to your taste-'NON INUTILE EST DESIDERIUM IN OBLATIONE';that is, 'A little regret is not unsuitable in an offering to theLord.'"

"Stop there!" cried the Jesuit, "for that thesis touches closelyupon heresy. There is a proposition almost like it in theAUGUSTINUS of the heresiarch Jansenius, whose book will sooner orlater be burned by the hands of the executioner. Take care, myyoung friend. You are inclining toward false doctrines, my youngfriend; you will be lost."

"You will be lost," said the curate, shaking his headsorrowfully.

"You approach that famous point of free will which is a mortalrock. You face the insinuations of the Pelagians and the demi-Peligians."

"But, my Reverend-" replied Aramis, a little amazed by the showerof arguments that poured upon his head.

"How will you prove," continued the Jesuit, without allowing himtime to speak, "that we ought to regret the world when we offerourselves to God? Listen to this dilemma: God is God, and theworld is the devil. To regret the world is to regret the devil;that is my conclusion."

"And that is mine also," said the curate.

"But, for heaven's sake-" resumed Aramis.

"DESIDERAS DIABOLUM, unhappy man!" cried the Jesuit.

"He regrets the devil! Ah, my young friend," added the curate,groaning, "do not regret the devil, I implore you!"

D'Artagnan felt himself bewildered. It seemed to him as thoughhe were in a madhouse, and was becoming as mad as those he saw.He was, however, forced to hold his tongue from not comprehendinghalf the language they employed.

"But listen to me, then," resumed Aramis with politeness mingledwith a little impatience. "I do not say I regret; no, I willnever pronounce that sentence, which would not be orthodox."

The Jesuit raised his hands toward heaven, and the curate did thesame.

"No; but pray grant me that it is acting with an ill grace tooffer to the Lord only that with which we are perfectlydisgusted! Don't you think so, D'Artagnan?"

"I think so, indeed," cried he.

The Jesuit and the curate quite started from their chairs.

"This is the point of departure; it is a syllogism. The world isnot wanting in attractions. I quit the world; then I make asacrifice. Now, the Scripture says positively, 'Make a sacrificeunto the Lord.'"

"That is true," said his antagonists.

"And then," said Aramis, pinching his ear to make it red, as herubbed his hands to make them white, "and then I made a certainRONDEAU upon it last year, which I showed to Monsieur Voiture,and that great man paid me a thousand compliments."

"A RONDEAU!" said the Jesuit, disdainfully.

"A RONDEAU!" said the curate, mechanically.

"Repeat it! Repeat it!" cried D'Artagnan; "it will make a littlechange."

"Not so, for it is religious," replied Aramis; "it is theology inverse."

"The devil!" said D'Artagnan.

"Here it is," said Aramis, with a little look of diffidence,which, however, was not exempt from a shade of hypocrisy:

"Vous qui pleurez un passe plein de charmes,Et qui trainez des jours infortunes,Tous vos malheurs se verront termines,Quand a Dieu seul vous offrirez vos larmes,Vous qui pleurez!"

"You who weep for pleasures fled,While dragging on a life of care,All your woes will melt in air,If to God your tears are shed,You who weep!"

D'Artagnan and the curate appeared pleased. The Jesuit persistedin his opinion. "Beware of a profane taste in your theologicalstyle. What says Augustine on this subject: "'SEVERUS SITCLERICORUM VERBO.'"

"Yes, let the sermon be clear," said the curate.

"Now," hastily interrupted the Jesuit, on seeing that his acolytewas going astray, "now your thesis would please the ladies; itwould have the success of one of Monsieur Patru's pleadings."

"Please God!" cried Aramis, transported.

"There it is," cried the Jesuit; "the world still speaks withinyou in a loud voice, ALTISIMMA VOCE. You follow the world, myyoung friend, and I tremble lest grace prove not efficacious."

"Be satisfied, my reverend father, I can answer for myself."

"Mundane presumption!"

"I know myself, Father; my resolution is irrevocable."

"Then you persist in continuing that thesis?"

"I feel myself called upon to treat that, and no other. I willsee about the continuation of it, and tomorrow I hope you will besatisfied with the corrections I shall have made in consequenceof your advice."

"Work slowly," said the curate; "we leave you in an excellenttone of mind."

"Yes, the ground is all sown," said the Jesuit, "and we have notto fear that one portion of the seed may have fallen upon stone,another upon the highway, or that the birds of heaven have eatenthe rest, AVES COELI COMEDERUNT ILLAM."

"Plague stifle you and your Latin!" said D'Artagnan, who began tofeel all his patience exhausted.

"Farewell, my son," said the curate, "till tomorrow."

"Till tomorrow, rash youth," said the Jesuit. "You promise tobecome one of the lights of the Church. Heaven grant that thislight prove not a devouring fire!"

D'Artagnan, who for an hour past had been gnawing his nails withimpatience, was beginning to attack the quick.

The two men in black rose, bowed to Aramis and D'Artagnan, andadvanced toward the door. Bazin, who had been standing listeningto all this controversy with a pious jubilation, sprang towardthem, took the breviary of the curate and the missal of theJesuit, and walked respectfully before them to clear their way.

Aramis conducted them to the foot of the stairs, and themimmediately came up again to D'Artagnan, whose senses were stillin a state of confusion.

When left alone, the two friends at first kept an embarrassedsilence. It however became necessary for one of them to break itfirst, and as D'Artagnan appeared determined to leave that honorto his companion, Aramis said, "you see that I am returned to myfundamental ideas."

"Yes, efficacious grace has touched you, as that gentleman saidjust now."

"Oh, these plans of retreat have been formed for a long time.You have often heard me speak of them, have you not, my friend?"

"Yes; but I confess I always thought you jested."

"With such things! Oh, D'Artagnan!"

"The devil! Why, people jest with death."

"And people are wrong, D'Artagnan; for death is the door whichleads to perdition or to salvation."

"Granted; but if you please, let us not theologize, Aramis. Youmust have had enough for today. As for me, I have almostforgotten the little Latin I have ever known. Then I confess toyou that I have eaten nothing since ten o'clock this morning, andI am devilish hungry."

"We will dine directly, my friend; only you must please toremember that this is Friday. Now, on such a day I can neithereat flesh nor see it eaten. If you can be satisfied with mydinner-it consists of cooked tetragones and fruits."

"What do you mean by tetragones?" asked D'Artagnan, uneasily.

"I mean spinach," replied Aramis; "but on your account I will addsome eggs, and that is a serious infraction of the rule-for eggsare meat, since they engender chickens."

"This feast is not very succulent; but never mind, I will put upwith it for the sake of remaining with you."

"I am grateful to you for the sacrifice," said Aramis; "but ifyour body be not greatly benefited by it, be assured your soulwill."

"And so, Aramis, you are decidedly going into the Church? Whatwill our two friends say? What will Monsieur de Treville say?They will treat you as a deserter, I warn you."

"I do not enter the Church; I re-enter it. I deserted the Churchfor the world, for you know that I forced myself when I became aMusketeer."

"I? I know nothing about it."

"You don't know I quit the seminary?"

"Not at all."

"This is my story, then. Besides, the Scriptures say, 'Confessyourselves to one another,' and I confess to you, D'Artagnan."

"And I give you absolution beforehand. You see I am a good sortof a man."

"Do not jest about holy things, my friend."

"Go on, then, I listen."

"I had been at the seminary from nine years old; in three days Ishould have been twenty. I was about to become an abbe, and allwas arranged. One evening I went, according to custom, to ahouse which I frequented with much pleasure: when one is young,what can be expected? - one is weak. An officer who saw me, witha jealous eye, reading the LIVES OF THE SAINTS to the mistress ofthe house, entered suddenly and without being announced. Thatevening I had translated an episode of Judith, and had justcommunicated my verses to the lady, who gave me all sorts ofcompliments, and leaning on my shoulder, was reading them asecond time with me. Her pose, which I must admit was ratherfree, wounded this officer. He said nothing; but when I went outhe followed, and quickly came up with me. 'Monsieur the Abbe,'said he, 'do you like blows with a cane?' 'I cannot say,monsieur,' answered I; 'no one has ever dared to give me any.''Well, listen to me, then, Monsieur the Abbe! If you ventureagain into the house in which I have met you this evening, I willdare it myself.' I really think I must have been frightened. Ibecame very pale; I felt my legs fail me; I sought for a reply,but could find none-I was silent. The officer waited for hisreply, and seeing it so long coming, he burst into a laugh,turned upon his heel, and re-entered the house. I returned tothe seminary.

"I am a gentleman born, and my blood is warm, as you may haveremarked, my dear D'Artagnan. The insult was terrible, andalthough unknown to the rest of the world, I felt it live andfester at the bottom of my heart. I informed my superiors that Idid not feel myself sufficiently prepared for ordination, and atmy request the ceremony was postponed for a year. I sought outthe best fencing master in Paris, I made an agreement with him totake a lesson every day, and every day for a year I took thatlesson. Then, on the anniversary of the day on which I had beeninsulted, I hung my cassock on a peg, assumed the costume of acavalier, and went to a ball given by a lady friend of mine andto which I knew my man was invited. It was in the Rue desFrance-Bourgeois, close to La Force. As I expected, my officerwas there. I went up to him as he was singing a love ditty andlooking tenderly at a lady, and interrupted him exactly in themiddle of the second couplet. 'Monsieur,' said I, 'does it stilldisplease you that I should frequent a certain house of La RuePayenne? And would you still cane me if I took it into my headto disobey you? The officer looked at me with astonishment, andthen said, 'What is your business with me, monsieur? I do notknow you.' 'I am,' said I, 'the little abbe who reads LIVES OFTHE SAINTS, and translates Judith into verse.' 'Ah, ah! Irecollect now,' said the officer, in a jeering tone; 'well, whatdo you want with me?' 'I want you to spare time to take a walkwith me.' 'Tomorrow morning, if you like, with the greatestpleasure.' 'No, not tomorrow morning, if you please, butimmediately.' 'If you absolutely insist.' 'I do insist uponit.' 'Come, then. Ladies,' said the officer, 'do not disturbyourselves; allow me time just to kill this gentleman, and I willreturn and finish the last couplet.'

"We went out. I took him to the Rue Payenne, to exactly the samespot where, a year before, at the very same hour, he had paid methe compliment I have related to you. It was a superb moonlightnight. We immediately drew, and at the first pass I laid himstark dead."

"The devil!" cried D'Artagnan.

"Now," continued Aramis, "as the ladies did not see the singercome back, and as he was found in the Rue Payenne with a greatsword wound through his body, it was supposed that I hadaccommodated him thus; and the matter created some scandal whichobliged me to renounce the cassock for a time. Athos, whoseacquaintance I made about that period, and Porthos, who had inaddition to my lessons taught me some effective tricks of fence,prevailed upon me to solicit the uniform of a Musketeer. Theking entertained great regard for my father, who had fallen atthe siege Arras, and the uniform was granted. You may understandthat the moment has come for me to re-enter the bosom of theChurch."

"And why today, rather than yesterday or tomorrow? What hashappened to you today, to raise all these melancholy ideas?"

"This wound, my dear D'Artagnan, has been a warning to me fromheaven."

"This wound? Bah, it is now nearly healed, and I am sure it isnot that which gives you the most pain."

"What, then?" said Aramis, blushing."

"You have one at heart, Aramis, one deeper and more painful-awound made by a woman."

The eye of Aramis kindled in spite of himself.

"Ah," said he, dissembling his emotion under a feignedcarelessness, "do not talk of such things, and suffer love pains?VANITAS VANITATUM! According to your idea, then, my brain isturned. And for whom-for some GRISETTE, some chambermaid withwhom I have trifled in some garrison? Fie!"

"Pardon, my dear Aramis, but I thought you carried your eyeshigher."

"Higher? And who am I, to nourish such ambition? A poorMusketeer, a beggar, an unknown-who hates slavery, and findshimself ill-placed in the world."

"Aramis, Aramis!" cried D'Artagnan, looking at his friend with anair of doubt.

"Dust I am, and to dust I return. Life is full of humiliationsand sorrows," continued he, becoming still more melancholy; "allthe ties which attach him to life break in the hand of man,particularly the golden ties. Oh, my dear D'Artagnan," resumedAramis, giving to his voice a slight tone of bitterness, "trustme! Conceal your wounds when you have any; silence is the lastjoy of the unhappy. Beware of giving anyone the clue to yourgriefs; the curious suck our tears as flies suck the blood of awounded hart."

"Alas, my dear Aramis," said D'Artagnan, in his turn heaving aprofound sigh, "that is my story you are relating!"

"How?"

"Yes; a woman whom I love, whom I adore, has just been torn fromme by force. I do not know where she is or whither they haveconducted her. She is perhaps a prisoner; she is perhaps dead!"

"Yes, but you have at least this consolation, that you can say toyourself she has not quit you voluntarily, that if you learn nonews of her, it is because all communication with you ininterdicted; while I-"

"Well?"

"Nothing," replied Aramis, "nothing."

"So you renounce the world, then, forever; that is a settledthing-a resolution registered!"

"Forever! You are my friend today; tomorrow you will be no moreto me than a shadow, or rather, even, you will no longer exist.As for the world, it is a sepulcher and nothing else."

"The devil! All this is very sad which you tell me."

"What will you? My vocation commands me; it carries me away."

D'Artagnan smiled, but made no answer.

Aramis continued, "And yet, while I do belong to the earth, Iwish to speak of you-of our friends."

"And on my part," said D'Artagnan, "I wished to speak of you, butI find you so completely detached from everything! To love youcry, 'Fie! Friends are shadows! The world is a sepulcher!'"

"Alas, you will find it so yourself," said Aramis, with a sigh.

"Well, then, let us say no more about it," said D'Artagnan; "andlet us burn this letter, which, no doubt, announces to you somefresh infidelity of your GRISETTE or your chambermaid."

"What letter?" cried Aramis, eagerly.

"A letter which was sent to your abode in your absence, and whichwas given to me for you."

"But from whom is that letter?"

"Oh, from some heartbroken waiting woman, some despondingGRISETTE; from Madame de Chevreuse's chambermaid, perhaps, whowas obliged to return to Tours with her mistress, and who, inorder to appear smart and attractive, stole some perfumed paper,and sealed her letter with a duchess's coronet."

"What do you say?"

"Hold! I must have lost it," said the young man maliciously,pretending to search for it. "But fortunately the world is asepulcher; the men, and consequently the women, are but shadows,and love is a sentiment to which you cry, 'Fie! Fie!'"

"D'Artagnan, D'Artagnan," cried Aramis, "you are killing me!"

"Well, here it is at last!" said D'Artagnan, as he drew theletter from his pocket.

Aramis made a bound, seized the letter, read it, or ratherdevoured it, his countenance radiant.

"This same waiting maid seems to have an agreeable style," saidthe messenger, carelessly.

"Thanks, D'Artagnan, thanks!" cried Aramis, almost in a state ofdelirium. "She was forced to return to Tours; she is notfaithless; she still loves me! Come, my friend, come, let meembrace you. Happiness almost stifles me!"

The two friends began to dance around the venerable St.Chrysostom, kicking about famously the sheets of the thesis,which had fallen on the floor.

At that moment Bazin entered with the spinach and the omelet.

"Be off, you wretch!" cried Aramis, throwing his skullcap in hisface. "Return whence you came; take back those horriblevegetables, and that poor kickshaw! Order a larded hare, a fatcapon, mutton leg dressed with garlic, and four bottles of oldBurgundy."

Bazin, who looked at his master, without comprehending the causeof this change, in a melancholy manner, allowed the omelet toslip into the spinach, and the spinach onto the floor.

"Now this is the moment to consecrate your existence to the Kingof kings," said D'Artagnan, "if you persist in offering him acivility. NON INUTILE DESIDERIUM OBLATIONE."

"Go to the devil with your Latin. Let us drink, my dearD'Artagnan, MORBLEU! Let us drink while the wine is fresh! Letus drink heartily, and while we do so, tell me a little of whatis going on in the world yonder."