eutral. He
felt that there was an intrigue at the bottom of it, whether comedy or
tragedy; he was at his wit's end at not being able to fathom it, but in
the meanwhile wished to keep clear.

But already Percerin, goaded by the idea that the king was to be told he
stood in the way of a pleasant surprise, had offered Lebrun a chair, and
proceeded to bring from a wardrobe four magnificent dresses, the
fifth being still in the workmen's hands; and these masterpieces he
successively fitted upon four lay figures, which, imported into France
in the time of Concini, had been given to Percerin II. by Marshal
d'Onore, after the discomfiture of the Italian tailors ruined in their
competition. The painter set to work to draw and then to paint the
dresses. But Aramis, who was closely watching all the phases of his
toil, suddenly stopped him.

"I think you have not quite got it, my dear Lebrun," he said; "your
colors will deceive you, and on canvas we shall lack that exact
resemblance which is absolutely requisite. Time is necessary for
attentively observing the finer shades."

"Quite true," said Percerin, "but time is wanting, and on that head, you
will agree with me, monseigneur, I can do nothing."

"Then the affair will fail," said Aramis, quietly, "and that because of
a want of precision in the colors."

Nevertheless Lebrun went on copying the materials and ornaments with
the closest fidelity--a process which Aramis watched with ill-concealed
impatience.

"What in the world, now, is the meaning of this imbroglio?" the
musketeer kept saying to himself.

"That will never do," said Aramis: "M. Lebrun, close your box, and roll
up your canvas."

"But, monsieur," cried the vexed painter, "the light is abominable
here."

"An idea, M. Lebrun, an idea! If we had a pattern of the materials, for
example, and with time, and a better light--"

"Oh, then," cried Lebrun, "I would answer for the effect."

"Good!" said D'Artagnan, "this ought to be the knotty point of the whole
thing; they want a pattern of each of the materials. _Mordioux!_ Will
this Percerin give in now?"

Percerin, beaten from his last retreat, and duped, moreover, by the
feigned good-nature of Aramis, cut out five patterns and handed them to
the bishop of Vannes.

"I like this better. That is your opinion, is it not?" said Aramis to
D'Artagnan.

"My dear Aramis," said D'Artagnan, "my opinion is that you are always
the same."

"And, consequently, always y