important to say to
each other, and follow Aramis.

Upon being informed that the person who wanted to speak to him came from
Tours, we have seen with what rapidity the young man followed, or rather
went before, Bazin; he ran without stopping from the Rue Ferou to
the Rue de Vaugirard. On entering he found a man of short stature and
intelligent eyes, but covered with rags.

"You have asked for me?" said the Musketeer.

"I wish to speak with Monsieur Aramis. Is that your name, monsieur?"

"My very own. You have brought me something?"

"Yes, if you show me a certain embroidered handkerchief."

"Here it is," said Aramis, taking a small key from his breast and
opening a little ebony box inlaid with mother of pearl, "here it is.
Look."

"That is right," replied the mendicant; "dismiss your lackey."

In fact, Bazin, curious to know what the mendicant could want with his
master, kept pace with him as well as he could, and arrived almost at
the same time he did; but his quickness was not of much use to him. At
the hint from the mendicant his master made him a sign to retire, and he
was obliged to obey.

Bazin gone, the mendicant cast a rapid glance around him in order to be
sure that nobody could either see or hear him, and opening his ragged
vest, badly held together by a leather strap, he began to rip the upper
part of his doublet, from which he drew a letter.

Aramis uttered a cry of joy at the sight of the seal, kissed the
superscription with an almost religious respect, and opened the epistle,
which contained what follows:

"My Friend, it is the will of fate that we should be still for some time
separated; but the delightful days of youth are not lost beyond return.
Perform your duty in camp; I will do mine elsewhere. Accept that which
the bearer brings you; make the campaign like a handsome true gentleman,
and think of me, who kisses tenderly your black eyes.

"Adieu; or rather, AU REVOIR."

The mendicant continued to rip his garments; and drew from amid his rags
a hundred and fifty Spanish double pistoles, which he laid down on the
table; then he opened the door, bowed, and went out before the young
man, stupefied by his letter, had ventured to address a word to him.

Aramis then reperused the letter, and perceived a postscript:

P.S. You may behave politely to the bearer, who is a count and a grandee
of Spain!

"Golden dreams!" cried Aramis. "Oh, beautiful life! Yes, we are young;
yes, we shall