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 d