Porthos and D'Artagnan had entered the bishop's residence bya private door, as his personal friends. Of course, Porthosserved D'Artagnan as guide. The worthy baron comportedhimself everywhere rather as if he were at home.Nevertheless, whether it was a tacit acknowledgment of thesanctity of the personage of Aramis and his character, orthe habit of respecting him who imposed upon him morally, aworthy habit which had always made Porthos a model soldierand an excellent companion; for all these reasons, say we,Porthos preserved in the palace of His Greatness the Bishopof Vannes a sort of reserve which D'Artagnan remarked atonce, in the attitude he took with respect to the valets andofficers. And yet this reserve did not go so far as toprevent his asking questions. Porthos questioned. Theylearned that His Greatness had just returned to hisapartment and was preparing to appear in familiar intimacy,less majestic than he had appeared with his flock. After aquarter of an hour, which D'Artagnan and Porthos passed inlooking mutually at each other with the white of their eyes,and turning their thumbs in all the different evolutionswhich go from north to south, a door of the chamber openedand His Greatness appeared, dressed in the undress,complete, of a prelate. Aramis carried his head high, like aman accustomed to command: his violet robe was tucked up onone side, and his white hand was on his hip. He had retainedthe fine mustache, and the lengthened royale of the time ofLouis XIII. He exhaled, on entering, that delicate perfumewhich, among elegant men and women of high fashion, neverchanges, and appears to be incorporated in the person, ofwhom it has become the natural emanation. In this case only,the perfume had retained something of the religioussublimity of incense. It no longer intoxicated, itpenetrated; it no longer inspired desire, it inspiredrespect. Aramis, on entering the chamber did not hesitate aninstant; and without pronouncing one word, which, whateverit might be, would have been cold on such an occasion, hewent straight up to the musketeer, so well disguised underthe costume of M. Agnan, and pressed him in his arms with atenderness which the most distrustful could not havesuspected of coldness or affectation.

D'Artagnan, on his part, embraced him with equal ardor.Porthos pressed the delicate hand of Aramis in his immensehands, and D'Artagnan remarked that His Greatness gave himhis left hand, probably from habit, seeing that Porthosalready ten times had been near injuring his fingers coveredwith rings, by pounding his flesh in the vise of his fist.Warned by the pain, Aramis was cautious, and only presentedflesh to be bruised, and not fingers to be crushed, againstgold or the angles of diamonds.

Between two embraces, Aramis looked D'Artagnan in the face,offered him a chair, sitting down himself in the shade,observing that the light fell full upon the face of hisinterlocutor. This maneuver, familiar to diplomatists andwomen, resembles much the advantage of the guard which,according to their skill or habit, combatants endeavor totake on the ground at a duel. D'Artagnan was not the dupe ofthis maneuver, but he did not appear to perceive it. He felthimself caught; but, precisely, because he was caught hefelt himself on the road to discovery, and it littleimported to him, old condottiere as he was, to be beaten inappearance, provided he drew from his pretended defeat theadvantages of victory. Aramis began the conversation.

"Ah! dear friend! my good D'Artagnan," said he, "what anexcellent chance!"

"It is a chance, my reverend companion," said D'Artagnan,"that I will call friendship. I seek you, as I always havesought you, when I had any grand enterprise to propose toyou, or some hours of liberty to give you."

"Ah! indeed," said Aramis, without explosion, "you have beenseeking me?"

"Eh! yes, he has been seeking you, Aramis," said Porthos,"and the proof is that he has unharbored me at Belle-Isle.That is amiable, is it not?"

"Ah! yes," said Aramis, "at Belle-Isle! certainly!"

"Good!" said D'Artagnan; "there is my booby Porthos, withoutthinking of it, has fired the first cannon of attack."

"At Belle-Isle!" said Aramis, "in that hole, in that desert!That is kind, indeed!"

"And it was I who told him you were at Vannes," continuedPorthos, in the same tone.

D'Artagnan armed his mouth with a finesse almost ironical.

"Yes, I knew, but I was willing to see," replied he.

"To see what?"

"If our old friendship still held out, if, on seeing eachother, our hearts, hardened as they are by age, would stilllet the old cry of joy escape, which salutes the coming of afriend."

"Well, and you must have been satisfied," said Aramis.

"So, so."

"How is that?"

"Yes, Porthos said hush! and you - - "

"Well! and I?"

"And you gave me your benediction."

"What would you have, my friend?" said Aramis, smiling;"that is the most precious thing that a poor prelate, likeme, has to give."

"Indeed, my dear friend!"

"Doubtless."

"And yet they say at Paris that the bishopric of Vannes isone of the best in France."

"Ah! you are now speaking of temporal wealth," said Aramis,with a careless air.

"To be sure, I wish to speak of that; I hold by it, on mypart."

"In that case, let me speak of it," said Aramis, with asmile.

"You own yourself to be one of the richest prelates inFrance?"

"My friend, since you ask me to give you an account, I willtell you that the bishopric of Vannes is worth about twentythousand livres a year, neither more nor less. It is adiocese which contains a hundred and sixty parishes."

"That is very pretty," said D'Artagnan.

"It is superb!" said Porthos.

"And yet," resumed D'Artagnan, throwing his eyes overAramis, "you don't mean to bury yourself here forever?"

"Pardon me. Only I do not admit the word bury."

"But it seems to me, that at this distance from Paris a manis buried, or nearly so."

"My friend, I am getting old," said Aramis; "the noise andbustle of a city no longer suit me. At fifty-seven we oughtto seek calm and meditation. I have found them here. What isthere more beautiful, and stern at the same time, than thisold Armorica. I find here, dear D'Artagnan, all that isopposite to what I formerly loved, and that is what musthappen at the end of life, which is opposite to thebeginning. A little of my odd pleasure of former times stillcomes to salute me here, now and then, without diverting mefrom the road of salvation. I am still of this world, andyet every step that I take brings me nearer to God."

"Eloquent, wise and discreet; you are an accomplishedprelate, Aramis, and I offer you my congratulations."

"But," said Aramis, smiling, "you did not come here only forthe purpose of paying me compliments. Speak; what brings youhither! May it be that, in some fashion or other, you wantme?"

"Thank God, no, my friend," said D'Artagnan, "it is nothingof that kind. - I am rich and free."

"Rich!" exclaimed Aramis.

"Yes, rich for me; not for you or Porthos, understand. Ihave an income of about fifteen thousand livres.

Aramis looked at him suspiciously. He could not believe - particularly on seeing his friend in such humble guise - that he had made so fine a fortune. Then D'Artagnan, seeingthat the hour of explanations was come, related the historyof his English adventures. During the recital he saw, tentimes, the eyes of the prelate sparkle, and his slenderfingers work convulsively. As to Porthos, it was notadmiration he manifested for D'Artagnan; it was enthusiasm,it was delirium. When D'Artagnan had finished, "Well!" saidAramis.

"Well!" said D'Artagnan, "you see, then, I have in Englandfriends and property, in France a treasure. If your hearttells you so, I offer them to you. That is what I came herefor."

However firm was his look, he could not this time supportthe look of Aramis. He allowed, therefore, his eye to strayupon Porthos - like the sword which yields to too powerfula pressure, and seeks another road.

"At all events," said the bishop, "you have assumed asingular traveling costume, old friend."

"Frightful! I know it is. You may understand why I would nottravel as a cavalier or a noble; since I became rich, I ammiserly."

"And you say, then, you came to Belle-Isle?" said Aramis,without transition.

"Yes," replied D'Artagnan; "I knew I should find you andPorthos there."

"Find me!" cried Aramis. "Me! for the last year past I havenot once crossed the sea."

"Oh," said D'Artagnan, "I should never have supposed yousuch a housekeeper."

"Ah, dear friend, I must tell you that I am no longer theAramis of former times. Riding on horseback is unpleasant tome; the sea fatigues me. I am a poor, ailing priest, alwayscomplaining, always grumbling, and inclined to theausterities which appear to accord with old age, - preliminary parlayings with death. I linger, my dearD'Artagnan, I linger."

"Well, that is all the better, my friend, for we shallprobably be neighbors soon."

"Bah!" said Aramis with a degree of surprise he did not evenseek to dissemble. "You my neighbor!"

"Mordioux! yes."

"How so?"

"I am about to purchase some very profitable salt-mines,which are situated between Pirial and Croisic. Imagine, myfriend, a clear profit of twelve per cent. Never anydeficiency, never any idle expenses; the ocean, faithful andregular, brings every twelve hours its contingency to mycoffers. I am the first Parisian who has dreamt of such aspeculation. Do not say anything about it, I beg of you, andin a short time we will communicate on the matter. I am tohave three leagues of country for thirty thousand livres."

Aramis darted a look at Porthos, as if to ask if all thiswere true, if some snare were not concealed beneath thisoutward indifference. But soon, as if ashamed of havingconsulted this poor auxiliary, he collected all his forcesfor a fresh assault and new defense. "I heard that you hadhad some difference with the court but that you had come outof it as you know how to get through everything, D'Artagnan,with the honors of war."

"I!" said the musketeer, with a burst of laughter that didnot conceal his embarrassment, for, from these words, Aramiswas not unlikely to be acquainted with his last relationswith the king. "I! Oh, tell me all about that, pray,Aramis?"

"Yes, it was related to me, a poor bishop, lost in themiddle of the Landes, that the king had taken you as theconfidant of his amours."

"With whom?"

"With Mademoiselle de Mancini."

D'Artagnan breathed freely again. "Ah! I don't say no tothat," replied he.

"It appears that the king took you one morning over thebridge of Blois to talk with his lady-love."

"That's true," said D'Artagnan. "And you know that, do you?Well, then, you must know that the same day I gave in myresignation!"

"What, sincerely?"

"Nothing more so."

"It was after that, then, that you went to the Comte de laFere's?"

"Yes."

"Afterwards to me?"

"Yes."

"And then Porthos?"

"Yes."

"Was it in order to pay us a simple visit?"

"No, I did not know you were engaged, and I wished to takeyou with me into England."

"Yes, I understand; and then you executed alone, wonderfulman as you are, what you wanted to propose to us all four. Isuspected you had something to do with that famousrestoration, when I learned that you had been seen at KingCharles's receptions, and that he appeared to treat you likea friend, or rather like a person to whom he was under anobligation."

"But how the devil did you learn all that?" askedD'Artagnan, who began to fear that the investigation ofAramis had extended further than he wished.

"Dear D'Artagnan," said the prelate, "my friendshipresembles, in a degree, the solicitude of that night watchwhom we have in the little tower of the mole, at theextremity of the quay. That brave man, every night, lights alantern to direct the barks that come from sea. He isconcealed in his sentry-box, and the fishermen do not seehim; but he follows them with interest; he divines them; hecalls them; he attracts them into the way to the port. Iresemble this watcher: from time to time some news reachesme, and recalls to my remembrance all those I loved. Then Ifollow the friends of old days over the stormy ocean of theworld, I, a poor watcher, to whom God has kindly given theshelter of a sentry-box."

"Well, what did I do when I came from England?"

"Ah! there," replied Aramis, "you get beyond my depth. Iknow nothing of you since your return. D'Artagnan, my eyesare dim. I regretted you did not think of me. I wept overyour forgetfulness. I was wrong. I see you again, and it isa festival, a great festival, I assure you, solemnly! How isAthos?"

"Very well, thank you."

"And our young pupil, Raoul?"

"He seems to have inherited the skill of his father, Athos,and the strength of his tutor, Porthos."

"And on what occasion have you been able to judge of that?"

"Eh! mon Dieu! on the eve of my departure from Paris."

"Indeed! tell me all about it!"

"Yes; there was an execution at the Greve, and inconsequence of that execution, a riot. We happened byaccident, to be in the riot; and in this riot we wereobliged to have recourse to our swords. And he did wonders."

"Bah! what did he do?"

"Why, in the first place, he threw a man out of the window,as he would have flung a sack full of flock."

"Come, that's pretty well," said Porthos.

"Then he drew, and cut and thrust away, as we fellows usedto do in the good old times."

"And what was the cause of this riot?" said Porthos.

D'Artagnan remarked upon the face of Aramis a completeindifference to this question of Porthos. "Why," said he,fixing his eyes upon Aramis, "on account of two farmers ofthe revenues, friends of M. Fouquet, whom the king forced todisgorge their plunder, and then hanged them."

A scarcely perceptible contraction of the prelate's browshowed that he had heard D'Artagnan's reply.

"Oh, oh!" said Porthos; "and what were the names of thesefriends of M. Fouquet?"

"MM. d'Eymeris and Lyodot," said D'Artagnan. "Do you knowthose names, Aramis?"

"No," said the prelate, disdainfully; "they sound like thenames of financiers."

"Exactly; so they were."

"Oh! M. Fouquet allows his friends to be hanged, then," saidPorthos.

"And why not?" said Aramis. "Why, it seems to me - - "

"If these culprits were hanged, it was by order of the king.Now M. Fouquet, although superintendent of the finances, hasnot, I believe, the right of life and death."

"That may be," said Porthos; "but in the place of M. Fouquet- - "

Aramis was afraid Porthos was about to say somethingawkward, so interrupted him. "Come, D'Artagnan," said he;"this is quite enough about other people, let us talk alittle about you."

"Of me you know all that I can tell you. On the contrary letme hear a little about you, Aramis."

"I have told you, my friend. There is nothing of Aramis leftin me."

"Nor of the Abbe d'Herblay even?"

"No, not even of him. You see a man whom Providence hastaken by the hand, whom he has conducted to a position thathe could never have dared even to hope for."

"Providence?" asked D'Artagnan.

"Yes."

"Well, that is strange! I was told it was M. Fouquet."

"Who told you that?" cried Aramis, without being able, withall the power of his will, to prevent the color rising tohis cheeks.

"Ma foi! why, Bazin!"

"The fool!"

"I do not say he is a man of genius, it is true; but he toldme so; and after him, I repeat it to you."

"I have never seen M. Fouquet," replied Aramis with a lookas pure and calm as that of a virgin who has never told alie.

"Well, but if you had seen him and known him, there is noharm in that," replied D'Artagnan. "M. Fouquet is a verygood sort of a man."

"Humph!"

"A great politician." Aramis made a gesture of indifference.

"An all-powerful minister."

"I only hold to the king and the pope."

"Dame! listen then," said D'Artagnan, in the most naturaltone imaginable. "I said that because everybody here swearsby M. Fouquet. The plain is M. Fouquet's; the salt-mines Iam about to buy are M. Fouquet's; the island in whichPorthos studies topography is M. Fouquet's; the galleys areM. Fouquet's. I confess, then, that nothing would havesurprised me in your enfeoffment, or rather in that of yourdiocese, to M. Fouquet. He is a different master from theking, that is all; but quite as powerful as Louis."

"Thank God! I am not vassal to anybody; I belong to nobody,and am entirely my own master," replied Aramis, who, duringthis conversation, followed with his eye every gesture ofD'Artagnan, every glance of Porthos. But D'Artagnan wasimpassible and Porthos motionless; the thrusts aimed soskillfully were parried by an able adversary; not one hitthe mark. Nevertheless, both began to feel the fatigue ofsuch a contest and the announcement of supper was wellreceived by everybody. Supper changed the course ofconversation. Besides, they felt that, upon their guard aseach one had been, they could neither of them boast ofhaving the advantage. Porthos had understood nothing of whathad been meant. He had held himself motionless, becauseAramis had made him a sign not to stir. Supper for him, wasnothing but supper; but that was quite enough for Porthos.The supper, then, went off very well. D'Artagnan was in highspirits. Aramis exceeded himself in kind affability. Porthosate like old Pelops. Their talk was of war, finance, thearts, and love. Aramis played astonishment at every word ofpolitics. D'Artagnan risked. This long series of surprisesincreased the mistrust of D'Artagnan, as the eternalindifference of D'Artagnan provoked the suspicions ofAramis. At length D'Artagnan, designedly, uttered the nameof Colbert; he had reserved that stroke for the last.

"Who is this Colbert?" asked the bishop.

"Oh! come," said D'Artagnan to himself, "that is too strong!We must be careful, mordioux! we must be careful."

And he then gave Aramis all the information respecting M.Colbert he could desire. The supper, or rather, theconversation, was prolonged till one o'clock in the morningbetween D'Artagnan and Aramis. At ten o'clock precisely,Porthos had fallen asleep in his chair and snored like anorgan. At midnight he woke up and they sent him to bed."Hum!" said he, "I was near falling asleep; but that was allvery interesting you were talking about."

At one o'clock Aramis conducted D'Artagnan to the chamberdestined for him, which was the best in the episcopalresidence. Two servants were placed at his command.To-morrow, at eight o'clock," said he, taking leave ofD'Artagnan, "we will take, if agreeable to you, a ride onhorseback with Porthos."

"At eight o'clock!" said D'Artagnan, "so late?"

"You know that I require seven hours, sleep." said Aramis.

"That is true."

"Good-night, dear friend!" And he embraced the musketeercordially.

D'Artagnan allowed him to depart; then, as soon as the doorclosed, "Good!" cried he, "at five o'clock I will be onfoot."

This determination being made, he went to bed and quietly"put two and two together," as people say.