ARAMIS AND HIS THESIS

D`Artagnan had said nothing to Porthos of his wound or of his

procurator`s wife. Our Bernais was a prudent lad, however young

he might be. Consequently he had appeared to believe all that

the vainglorious Musketeer had told him, convinced that no

friendship will hold out against a surprised secret. Besides, we

feel always a sort of mental superiority over those whose lives

we know better than they suppose. In his projects of intrigue

for the future, and determined as he was to make his three

friends the instruments of his fortune, D`Artagnan was not sorry

at getting into his grasp beforehand the invisible strings by

which he reckoned upon moving them.

And yet, as he journeyed along, a profound sadness weighed upon

his heart. He thought of that young and pretty Mme. Bonacieux

who was to have paid him the price of his devotedness; but let us

hasten to say that this sadness possessed the young man less from

the regret of the happiness he had missed, than from the fear he

entertained that some serious misfortune had befallen the poor

woman. For himself, he had no doubt she was a victim of the

cardinal`s vengeance; and, and as was well known, the vengeance

of his Eminence was terrible. How he had found grace in the eyes

f the minister, he did not know; but without doubt M. de Cavois

would have revealed this to him if the captain of the Guards had

found him at home.

Nothing makes time pass more quickly or more shortens a journey

than a thought which absorbs in itself all the faculties of the

organization of him who thinks. External existence then

resembles a sleep of which this thought is the dream. By its

influence, time has no longer measure, space has no longer

distance. We depart from one place, and arrive at another, that

is all. Of the interval passed, nothing remains in the memory

but a vague mist in which a thousand confused images of trees,

mountains, and landscapes are lost. It was as a prey to this

hallucination that D`Artagnan traveled, at whatever pace his

horse pleased, the six or eight leagues that separated Chantilly

from Crevecoeur, without his being able to remember on his

arrival in the village any of the things he had passed or met

with on the road.

There only his memory returned to him. He shook his head,

perceived the cabaret at which he had left Aramis, and putting

his 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 the

plump, cheerful countenance of the mistress of the place, and he

at once perceived there was no occasion for dissembling with her,

or of fearing anything from one blessed with such a joyous

physiognomy.

"My good dame," asked D`Artagnan, "can you tell me what has

become of one of my friends, whom we were obliged to leave here

about 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 his

horse, and throwing the bridle to Planchet, "you restore me to

life; where is this dear Aramis? Let me embrace him, I am in a

hurry to see him again."

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

moment."

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

"Jesus! What do you mean by that? Poor lad! No, monsieur, he

has not a lady with him."

"With whom is he, then?"

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

Amiens."

"Good heavens!" cried D`Artagnan, "is the poor fellow worse,

then?"

"No, monsieur, quite the contrary; but after his illness grace

touched him, and he determined to take orders."

"That`s it!" said D`Artagnan, "I had forgotten that he was only a

Musketeer for a time."

"Monsieur still insists upon seeing him?"

"More than ever."

"Well, monsieur has only to take the right-hand staircase in the

courtyard, and knock at Number Five on the second floor."

D`Artagnan walked quickly in the direction indicated, and found

one of those exterior staircases that are still to be seen in the

yards of our old-fashioned taverns. But there was no getting at

the place of sojourn of the future abbe; the defiles of the

chamber of Aramis were as well guarded as the gardens of Armida.

Bazin was stationed in the corridor, and barred his passage with

the more intrepidity that, after many years of trial, Bazin found

himself near a result of which he had ever been ambitious.

In fact, the dream of poor Bazin had always been to serve a

churchman; and he awaited with impatience the moment, always in

the future, when Aramis would throw aside the uniform and assume

the cassock. The daily-renewed promise of the young man that the

moment would not long be delayed, had alone kept him in the

service of a Musketeer--a service in which, he said, his soul was

in constant jeopardy.

Bazin was then at the height of joy. In all probability, this

time his master would not retract. The union of physical pain

with moral uneasiness had produced the effect so long desired.

Aramis, suffering at once in body and mind, had at length fixed

his eyes and his thoughts upon religion, and he had considered as

a warning from heaven the double accident which had happened to

him; that is to say, the sudden disappearance of his mistress and

the wound in his shoulder.

It may be easily understood that in the present disposition of

his master nothing could be more disagreeable to Bazin than the

arrival of D`Artagnan, which might cast his master back again

into that vortex of mundane affairs which had so long carried him

away. He resolved, then, to defend the door bravely; and as,

betrayed by the mistress of the inn, he could not say that Aramis

was absent, he endeavored to prove to the newcomer that it would

be the height of indiscretion to disturb his master in his pious

conference, 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 of

M. Bazin; and as he had no desire to support a polemic discussion

with his friend`s valet, he simply moved him out of the way with

one hand, and with the other turned the handle of the door of

Number Five. The door opened, and D`Artagnan went into the

chamber.

Aramis, in a black gown, his head enveloped in a sort of round

flat cap, not much unlike a CALOTTE, was seated before an oblong

table, covered with rolls of paper and enormous volumes in folio.

At his right hand was placed the superior of the Jesuits, and on

his left the curate of Montdidier. The curtains were half drawn,

and only admitted the mysterious light calculated for beatific

reveries. All the mundane objects that generally strike the eye

on entering the room of a young man, particularly when that young

man is a Musketeer, had disappeared as if by enchantment; and for

fear, no doubt, that the sight of them might bring his master

back to ideas of this world, Bazin had laid his hands upon sword,

pistols, plumed hat, and embroideries and laces of all kinds and

sorts. In their stead D`Artagnan thought he perceived in an

obscure corner a discipline cord suspended from a nail in the

wall.

At the noise made by D`Artagnan in entering, Aramis lifted up his

head, and beheld his friend; but to the great astonishment of the

young man, the sight of him did not produce much effect upon the

Musketeer, so completely was his mind detached from the things of

this world.

"Good day, dear D`Artagnan," said Aramis; "believe me, I am glad

to see you."

"So am I delighted to see you," said D`Artagnan, "although I am

not yet sure that it is Aramis I am speaking to."

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

it?"

"I was afraid I had made a mistake in the chamber, and that I had

found my way into the apartment of some churchman. Then another

error seized me on seeing you in company with these gentlemen--I

was afraid you were dangerously ill."

The two men in black, who guessed D`Artagnan`s meaning, darted at

him a glance which might have been thought threatening; but

D`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 confessing

to these gentlemen."

Aramis colored imperceptibly. "You disturb me? Oh, quite the

contrary, 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 a

serious danger," continued Aramis, with unction, pointing to

D`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 young

man, returning their salutation.

"You arrive in good time, dear D`Artagnan," said Aramis, "and by

taking part in our discussion may assist us with your

intelligence. Monsieur the Principal of Amiens, Monsieur the

Curate of Montdidier, and I are arguing certain theological

questions in which we have been much interested; I shall be

delighted to have your opinion."

"The opinion of a swordsman can have very little weight," replied

D`Artagnan, who began to be uneasy at the turn things were

taking, "and you had better be satisfied, believe me, with the

knowledge of these gentlemen."

The two men in black bowed in their turn.

"On the contrary," replied Aramis, "your opinion will be very

valuable. The question is this: Monsieur the Principal thinks

that my thesis ought to be dogmatic and didactic."

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

"Without doubt," replied the Jesuit. "In the examination which

precedes ordination, a thesis is always a requisite."

"Ordination!" cried D`Artagnan, who could not believe what the

hostess and Bazin had successively told him; and he gazed, half

stupefied, upon the three persons before him.

"Now," continued Aramis, taking the same graceful position in his

easy chair that he would have assumed in bed, and complacently

examining his hand, which was as white and plump as that of a

woman, and which he held in the air to cause the blood to

descend, "now, as you have heard, D`Artagnan, Monsieur the

Principal is desirous that my thesis should be dogmatic, while I,

for my part, would rather it should be ideal. This is the reason

why Monsieur the Principal has proposed to me the following

subject, which has not yet been treated upon, and in which I

perceive there is matter for magnificent elaboration-`UTRAQUE

MANUS IN BENEDICENDO CLERICIS INFERIORIBUS NECESSARIA EST.`"

D`Artagnan, whose erudition we are well acquainted with, evinced

no more interest on hearing this quotation than he had at that of

M. de Treville in allusion to the gifts he pretended that

D`Artagnan had received from the Duke of Buckingham.

"Which means," resumed Aramis, that he might perfectly

understand, "`The two hands are indispensable for priests of the

inferior orders, when they bestow the benediction.`"

"An admirable subject!" cried the Jesuit.

"Admirable and dogmatic!" repeated the curate, who, about as

strong as D`Artagnan with respect to Latin, carefully watched the

Jesuit in order to keep step with him, and repeated his words

like an echo.

As to D`Artagnan, he remained perfectly insensible to the

enthusiasm of the two men in black.

"Yes, admirable! PRORSUS ADMIRABILE!" continued Aramis; "but

which requires a profound study of both the Scriptures and the

Fathers. Now, I have confessed to these learned ecclesiastics,

and that in all humility, that the duties of mounting guard and

the 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 hard

theological questions what morals are to metaphysics in

philosophy."

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 saying

something. "QUEMADMODUM INTER COELORUM IMMENSITATEM."

Aramis cast a glance upon D`Artagnan to see what effect all this

produced, 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 all

this Latin confuses me."

"Certainly," replied the Jesuit, a little put out, while the

curate, greatly delighted, turned upon D`Artagnan a look full of

gratitude. "Well, let us see what is to be derived from this

gloss. Moses, the servant of God-he was but a servant, please to

understand-Moses blessed with the hands; he held out both his

arms while the Hebrews beat their enemies, and then he blessed

them 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 the

successors," continued the Jesuit; "PORRIGE DIGITOS-present the

fingers. Are you there, now?"

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

subtle."

"The FINGERS," resumed the Jesuit, "St. Peter blessed with the

FINGERS. The Pope, therefore blesses with the fingers. And with

how 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 to

follow this example.

"The Pope is the successor of St. Peter, and represents the three

divine powers; the rest-ORDINES INFERIORES-of the ecclesiastical

hierarchy bless in the name of the holy archangels and angels.

The most humble clerks such as our deacons and sacristans, bless

with holy water sprinklers, which resemble an infinite number of

blessing fingers. There is the subject simplified. ARGUMENTUM

OMNI DENUDATUM ORNAMENTO. I could make of that subject two

volumes the size of this," continued the Jesuit; and in his

enthusiasm he struck a St. Chrysostom in folio, which made the

table bend beneath its weight.

D`Artagnan trembled.

"CERTES," said Aramis, "I do justice to the beauties of this

thesis; but at the same time I perceive it would be overwhelming

for me. I had chosen this text-tell me, dear D`Artagnan, if it

is not to your taste-`NON INUTILE EST DESIDERIUM IN OBLATIONE`;

that is, `A little regret is not unsuitable in an offering to the

Lord.`"

"Stop there!" cried the Jesuit, "for that thesis touches closely

upon heresy. There is a proposition almost like it in the

AUGUSTINUS of the heresiarch Jansenius, whose book will sooner or

later be burned by the hands of the executioner. Take care, my

young friend. You are inclining toward false doctrines, my young

friend; you will be lost."

"You will be lost," said the curate, shaking his head

sorrowfully.

"You approach that famous point of free will which is a mortal

rock. You face the insinuations of the Pelagians and the demi-

Peligians."

"But, my Reverend-" replied Aramis, a little amazed by the shower

of arguments that poured upon his head.

"How will you prove," continued the Jesuit, without allowing him

time to speak, "that we ought to regret the world when we offer

ourselves to God? Listen to this dilemma: God is God, and the

world 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 though

he were in a madhouse, and was becoming as mad as those he saw.

He was, however, forced to hold his tongue from not comprehending

half the language they employed.

"But listen to me, then," resumed Aramis with politeness mingled

with a little impatience. "I do not say I regret; no, I will

never pronounce that sentence, which would not be orthodox."

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

same.

"No; but pray grant me that it is acting with an ill grace to

offer to the Lord only that with which we are perfectly

disgusted! 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 is

not wanting in attractions. I quit the world; then I make a

sacrifice. Now, the Scripture says positively, `Make a sacrifice

unto the Lord.`"

"That is true," said his antagonists.

"And then," said Aramis, pinching his ear to make it red, as he

rubbed his hands to make them white, "and then I made a certain

RONDEAU 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 little

change."

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

verse."

"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 persisted

in his opinion. "Beware of a profane taste in your theological

style. What says Augustine on this subject: "`SEVERUS SIT

CLERICORUM VERBO.`"

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

"Now," hastily interrupted the Jesuit, on seeing that his acolyte

was going astray, "now your thesis would please the ladies; it

would 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 within

you in a loud voice, ALTISIMMA VOCE. You follow the world, my

young 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 will

see about the continuation of it, and tomorrow I hope you will be

satisfied with the corrections I shall have made in consequence

of your advice."

"Work slowly," said the curate; "we leave you in an excellent

tone of mind."

"Yes, the ground is all sown," said the Jesuit, "and we have not

to fear that one portion of the seed may have fallen upon stone,

another upon the highway, or that the birds of heaven have eaten

the rest, AVES COELI COMEDERUNT ILLAM."

"Plague stifle you and your Latin!" said D`Artagnan, who began to

feel all his patience exhausted.

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

"Till tomorrow, rash youth," said the Jesuit. "You promise to

become one of the lights of the Church. Heaven grant that this

light prove not a devouring fire!"

D`Artagnan, who for an hour past had been gnawing his nails with

impatience, was beginning to attack the quick.

The two men in black rose, bowed to Aramis and D`Artagnan, and

advanced toward the door. Bazin, who had been standing listening

to all this controversy with a pious jubilation, sprang toward

them, took the breviary of the curate and the missal of the

Jesuit, and walked respectfully before them to clear their way.

Aramis conducted them to the foot of the stairs, and them

immediately came up again to D`Artagnan, whose senses were still

in a state of confusion.

When left alone, the two friends at first kept an embarrassed

silence. It however became necessary for one of them to break it

first, and as D`Artagnan appeared determined to leave that honor

to his companion, Aramis said, "you see that I am returned to my

fundamental ideas."

"Yes, efficacious grace has touched you, as that gentleman said

just 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 which

leads to perdition or to salvation."

"Granted; but if you please, let us not theologize, Aramis. You

must have had enough for today. As for me, I have almost

forgotten the little Latin I have ever known. Then I confess to

you that I have eaten nothing since ten o`clock this morning, and

I am devilish hungry."

"We will dine directly, my friend; only you must please to

remember that this is Friday. Now, on such a day I can neither

eat flesh nor see it eaten. If you can be satisfied with my

dinner-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 add

some eggs, and that is a serious infraction of the rule-for eggs

are meat, since they engender chickens."

"This feast is not very succulent; but never mind, I will put up

with it for the sake of remaining with you."

"I am grateful to you for the sacrifice," said Aramis; "but if

your body be not greatly benefited by it, be assured your soul

will."

"And so, Aramis, you are decidedly going into the Church? What

will 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 Church

for the world, for you know that I forced myself when I became a

Musketeer."

"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, `Confess

yourselves to one another,` and I confess to you, D`Artagnan."

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

of 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 I

should have been twenty. I was about to become an abbe, and all

was arranged. One evening I went, according to custom, to a

house which I frequented with much pleasure: when one is young,

what can be expected?--one is weak. An officer who saw me, with

a jealous eye, reading the LIVES OF THE SAINTS to the mistress of

the house, entered suddenly and without being announced. That

evening I had translated an episode of Judith, and had just

communicated my verses to the lady, who gave me all sorts of

compliments, and leaning on my shoulder, was reading them a

second time with me. Her pose, which I must admit was rather

free, wounded this officer. He said nothing; but when I went out

he 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 venture

again into the house in which I have met you this evening, I will

dare it myself.` I really think I must have been frightened. I

became very pale; I felt my legs fail me; I sought for a reply,

but could find none-I was silent. The officer waited for his

reply, and seeing it so long coming, he burst into a laugh,

turned upon his heel, and re-entered the house. I returned to

the seminary.

"I am a gentleman born, and my blood is warm, as you may have

remarked, my dear D`Artagnan. The insult was terrible, and

although unknown to the rest of the world, I felt it live and

fester at the bottom of my heart. I informed my superiors that I

did not feel myself sufficiently prepared for ordination, and at

my request the ceremony was postponed for a year. I sought out

the best fencing master in Paris, I made an agreement with him to

take a lesson every day, and every day for a year I took that

lesson. Then, on the anniversary of the day on which I had been

insulted, I hung my cassock on a peg, assumed the costume of a

cavalier, and went to a ball given by a lady friend of mine and

to which I knew my man was invited. It was in the Rue des

France-Bourgeois, close to La Force. As I expected, my officer

was there. I went up to him as he was singing a love ditty and

looking tenderly at a lady, and interrupted him exactly in the

middle of the second couplet. `Monsieur,` said I, `does it still

displease you that I should frequent a certain house of La Rue

Payenne? And would you still cane me if I took it into my head

to disobey you? The officer looked at me with astonishment, and

then said, `What is your business with me, monsieur? I do not

know you.` `I am,` said I, `the little abbe who reads LIVES OF

THE SAINTS, and translates Judith into verse.` `Ah, ah! I

recollect now,` said the officer, in a jeering tone; `well, what

do you want with me?` `I want you to spare time to take a walk

with me.` `Tomorrow morning, if you like, with the greatest

pleasure.` `No, not tomorrow morning, if you please, but

immediately.` `If you absolutely insist.` `I do insist upon

it.` `Come, then. Ladies,` said the officer, `do not disturb

yourselves; allow me time just to kill this gentleman, and I will

return and finish the last couplet.`

"We went out. I took him to the Rue Payenne, to exactly the same

spot where, a year before, at the very same hour, he had paid me

the compliment I have related to you. It was a superb moonlight

night. We immediately drew, and at the first pass I laid him

stark dead."

"The devil!" cried D`Artagnan.

"Now," continued Aramis, "as the ladies did not see the singer

come back, and as he was found in the Rue Payenne with a great

sword wound through his body, it was supposed that I had

accommodated him thus; and the matter created some scandal which

obliged me to renounce the cassock for a time. Athos, whose

acquaintance I made about that period, and Porthos, who had in

addition to my lessons taught me some effective tricks of fence,

prevailed upon me to solicit the uniform of a Musketeer. The

king entertained great regard for my father, who had fallen at

the siege Arras, and the uniform was granted. You may understand

that the moment has come for me to re-enter the bosom of the

Church."

"And why today, rather than yesterday or tomorrow? What has

happened to you today, to raise all these melancholy ideas?"

"This wound, my dear D`Artagnan, has been a warning to me from

heaven."

"This wound? Bah, it is now nearly healed, and I am sure it is

not that which gives you the most pain."

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

"You have one at heart, Aramis, one deeper and more painful-a

wound made by a woman."

The eye of Aramis kindled in spite of himself.

"Ah," said he, dissembling his emotion under a feigned

carelessness, "do not talk of such things, and suffer love pains?

VANITAS VANITATUM! According to your idea, then, my brain is

turned. And for whom-for some GRISETTE, some chambermaid with

whom I have trifled in some garrison? Fie!"

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

higher."

"Higher? And who am I, to nourish such ambition? A poor

Musketeer, a beggar, an unknown-who hates slavery, and finds

himself ill-placed in the world."

"Aramis, Aramis!" cried D`Artagnan, looking at his friend with an

air of doubt.

"Dust I am, and to dust I return. Life is full of humiliations

and sorrows," continued he, becoming still more melancholy; "all

the ties which attach him to life break in the hand of man,

particularly the golden ties. Oh, my dear D`Artagnan," resumed

Aramis, giving to his voice a slight tone of bitterness, "trust

me! Conceal your wounds when you have any; silence is the last

joy of the unhappy. Beware of giving anyone the clue to your

griefs; the curious suck our tears as flies suck the blood of a

wounded hart."

"Alas, my dear Aramis," said D`Artagnan, in his turn heaving a

profound sigh, "that is my story you are relating!"

"How?"

"Yes; a woman whom I love, whom I adore, has just been torn from

me by force. I do not know where she is or whither they have

conducted her. She is perhaps a prisoner; she is perhaps dead!"

"Yes, but you have at least this consolation, that you can say to

yourself she has not quit you voluntarily, that if you learn no

news of her, it is because all communication with you in

interdicted; while I-"

"Well?"

"Nothing," replied Aramis, "nothing."

"So you renounce the world, then, forever; that is a settled

thing-a resolution registered!"

"Forever! You are my friend today; tomorrow you will be no more

to 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, I

wish to speak of you-of our friends."

"And on my part," said D`Artagnan, "I wished to speak of you, but

I find you so completely detached from everything! To love you

cry, `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; "and

let us burn this letter, which, no doubt, announces to you some

fresh infidelity of your GRISETTE or your chambermaid."

"What letter?" cried Aramis, eagerly.

"A letter which was sent to your abode in your absence, and which

was given to me for you."

"But from whom is that letter?"

"Oh, from some heartbroken waiting woman, some desponding

GRISETTE; from Madame de Chevreuse`s chambermaid, perhaps, who

was obliged to return to Tours with her mistress, and who, in

order 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 a

sepulcher; 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 the

letter from his pocket.

Aramis made a bound, seized the letter, read it, or rather

devoured it, his countenance radiant.

"This same waiting maid seems to have an agreeable style," said

the messenger, carelessly.

"Thanks, D`Artagnan, thanks!" cried Aramis, almost in a state of

delirium. "She was forced to return to Tours; she is not

faithless; she still loves me! Come, my friend, come, let me

embrace 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 his

face. "Return whence you came; take back those horrible

vegetables, and that poor kickshaw! Order a larded hare, a fat

capon, mutton leg dressed with garlic, and four bottles of old

Burgundy."

Bazin, who looked at his master, without comprehending the cause

of this change, in a melancholy manner, allowed the omelet to

slip into the spinach, and the spinach onto the floor.

"Now this is the moment to consecrate your existence to the King

of kings," said D`Artagnan, "if you persist in offering him a

civility. NON INUTILE DESIDERIUM OBLATIONE."

"Go to the devil with your Latin. Let us drink, my dear

D`Artagnan, MORBLEU! Let us drink while the wine is fresh! Let

us drink heartily, and while we do so, tell me a little of what

is going on in the world yonder."

Date: 2015-01-29; view: 656