orthos, who had not taken off his mask, and
Aramis, who again resumed his, up the stairs, to the second Bertaudiere,
and opened the door of the room in which Philippe for six long years had
bemoaned his existence. The king entered the cell without pronouncing a
single word: he faltered in as limp and haggard as a rain-struck lily.
Baisemeaux shut the door upon him, turned the key twice in the lock,
and then returned to Aramis. "It is quite true," he said, in a low tone,
"that he bears a striking resemblance to the king; but less so than you
said."

"So that," said Aramis, "you would not have been deceived by the
substitution of the one for the other?"

"What a question!"

"You are a most valuable fellow, Baisemeaux," said Aramis; "and now, set
Seldon free."

"Oh, yes. I was going to forget that. I will go and give orders at
once."

"Bah! to-morrow will be time enough."

"To-morrow!--oh, no. This very minute."

"Well; go off to your affairs, I will go away to mine. But it is quite
understood, is it not?"

"What 'is quite understood'?"

"That no one is to enter the prisoner's cell, expect with an order from
the king; an order which I will myself bring."

"Quite so. Adieu, monseigneur."

Aramis returned to his companion. "Now, Porthos, my good fellow, back
again to Vaux, and as fast as possible."

"A man is light and easy enough, when he has faithfully served his king;
and, in serving him, saved his country," said Porthos. "The horses will
be as light as if our tissues were constructed of the wind of heaven.
So let us be off." And the carriage, lightened of a prisoner, who might
well be--as he in fact was--very heavy in the sight of Aramis, passed
across the drawbridge of the Bastile, which was raised again immediately
behind it.

Chapter XVIII. A Night at the Bastile.

Pain, anguish, and suffering in human life are always in proportion to
the strength with which a man is endowed. We will not pretend to say
that Heaven always apportions to a man's capability of endurance the
anguish with which he afflicts him; for that, indeed, would not be true,
since Heaven permits the existence of death, which is, sometimes, the
only refuge open to those who are too closely pressed--too bitterly
afflicted, as far as the body is concerned. Suffering is in proportion
to the strength which has been accorded; in other words, the weak suffer
more, where the trial is the same, than the strong. And what are the
elementa