hat is it?"
said he.

"You desired a confessor?" replied Aramis.

"Yes."

"Because you were ill?"

"Yes."

"Very ill?"

The young man gave Aramis a piercing glance, and answered, "I thank
you." After a moment's silence, "I have seen you before," he continued.
Aramis bowed.

Doubtless the scrutiny the prisoner had just made of the cold, crafty,
and imperious character stamped upon the features of the bishop of
Vannes was little reassuring to one in his situation, for he added, "I
am better."

"And so?" said Aramis.

"Why, then--being better, I have no longer the same need of a confessor,
I think."

"Not even of the hair-cloth, which the note you found in your bread
informed you of?"

The young man started; but before he had either assented or denied,
Aramis continued, "Not even of the ecclesiastic from whom you were to
hear an important revelation?"

"If it be so," said the young man, sinking again on his pillow, "it is
different; I am listening."

Aramis then looked at him more closely, and was struck with the easy
majesty of his mien, one which can never be acquired unless Heaven
has implanted it in the blood or heart. "Sit down, monsieur," said the
prisoner.

Aramis bowed and obeyed. "How does the Bastile agree with you?" asked
the bishop.

"Very well."

"You do not suffer?"

"No."

"You have nothing to regret?"

"Nothing."

"Not even your liberty?"

"What do you call liberty, monsieur?" asked the prisoner, with the tone
of a man who is preparing for a struggle.

"I call liberty, the flowers, the air, light, the stars, the happiness
of going whithersoever the sinewy limbs of one-and-twenty chance to wish
to carry you."

The young man smiled, whether in resignation or contempt, it was
difficult to tell. "Look," said he, "I have in that Japanese vase two
roses gathered yesterday evening in the bud from the governor's garden;
this morning they have blown and spread their vermilion chalice beneath
my gaze; with every opening petal they unfold the treasures of their
perfumes, filling my chamber with a fragrance that embalms it. Look now
on these two roses; even among roses these are beautiful, and the rose
is the most beautiful of flowers. Why, then, do you bid me desire other
flowers when I possess the loveliest of all?"

Aramis gazed at the young man in surprise.

"If _flowers_ constitute liberty," sadly resumed the captive, "I am
free, for I possess them."

"But the air!" cried