nseigneur is at his
diocese."

"What did you say?" said D'Artagnan. Bazin repeated the sentence.

"Ah, ah! but has Aramis a diocese?"

"Yes, monsieur. Why not?"

"Is he a bishop, then?"

"Why, where can you come from," said Bazin, rather irreverently, "that
you don't know that?"

"My dear Bazin, we pagans, we men of the sword, know very well when a
man is made a colonel, or maitre-de-camp, or marshal of France; but
if he be made a bishop, archbishop, or pope--devil take me if the news
reaches us before the three quarters of the earth have had the advantage
of it!"

"Hush! hush!" said Bazin, opening his eyes: "do not spoil these poor
children, in whom I am endeavoring to inculcate such good principles."
In fact, the children had surrounded D'Artagnan, whose horse, long
sword, spurs, and martial air they very much admired. But above all,
they admired his strong voice; so that, when he uttered his oath, the
whole school cried out, "The devil take me!" with fearful bursts
of laughter, shouts, and bounds, which delighted the musketeer, and
bewildered the old pedagogue.

"There!" said he, "hold your tongues, you brats! You have come, M.
d'Artagnan, and all my good principles fly away. With you, as usual,
comes disorder. Babel is revived. Ah! Good Lord! Ah! the wild little
wretches!" And the worthy Bazin distributed right and left blows which
increased the cries of his scholars by changing the nature of them.

"At least," said he, "you will no longer decoy any one here."

"Do you think so?" said D'Artagnan, with a smile which made a shudder
creep over the shoulders of Bazin.

"He is capable of it," murmured he.

"Where is your master's diocese?"

"Monseigneur Rene is bishop of Vannes."

"Who had him nominated?"

"Why, monsieur le surintendant, our neighbor."

"What! Monsieur Fouquet?"

"To be sure he did."

"Is Aramis on good terms with him, then?"

"Monseigneur preached every Sunday at the house of monsieur le
surintendant at Vaux; then they hunted together."

"Ah!"

"And monseigneur composed his homilies--no, I mean his sermons--with
monsieur le surintendant."

"Bah! he preached in verse, then, this worthy bishop?"

"Monsieur, for the love of heaven, do not jest with sacred things."

"There, Bazin, there! So, then, Aramis is at Vannes?"

"At Vannes, in Bretagne."

"You are a deceitful old hunks, Bazin; that is not true."

"See, monsieur, if you please; the apartments of the presbytery are