that
you aspired to nothing? Why, in a word, by thus speaking, do you prevent
me from being frank in my turn?"

The same light shone a third time in the young man's eyes, but died
ineffectually away as before.

"You distrust me," said Aramis.

"And why say you so, monsieur?"

"Oh, for a very simple reason; if you know what you ought to know, you
ought to mistrust everybody."

"Then do not be astonished that I am mistrustful, since you suspect me
of knowing what I do not know."

Aramis was struck with admiration at this energetic resistance. "Oh,
monseigneur! you drive me to despair," said he, striking the armchair
with his fist.

"And, on my part, I do not comprehend you, monsieur."

"Well, then, try to understand me." The prisoner looked fixedly at
Aramis.

"Sometimes it seems to me," said the latter, "that I have before me the
man whom I seek, and then--"

"And then your man disappears,--is it not so?" said the prisoner,
smiling. "So much the better."

Aramis rose. "Certainly," said he; "I have nothing further to say to a
man who mistrusts me as you do."

"And I, monsieur," said the prisoner, in the same tone, "have nothing
to say to a man who will not understand that a prisoner ought to be
mistrustful of everybody."

"Even of his old friends," said Aramis. "Oh, monseigneur, you are _too_
prudent!"

"Of my old friends?--you one of my old friends,--you?"

"Do you no longer remember," said Aramis, "that you once saw, in the
village where your early years were spent--"

"Do you know the name of the village?" asked the prisoner.

"Noisy-le-Sec, monseigneur," answered Aramis, firmly.

"Go on," said the young man, with an immovable aspect.

"Stay, monseigneur," said Aramis; "if you are positively resolved to
carry on this game, let us break off. I am here to tell you many things,
'tis true; but you must allow me to see that, on your side, you have
a desire to know them. Before revealing the important matters I still
withhold, be assured I am in need of some encouragement, if not candor;
a little sympathy, if not confidence. But you keep yourself intrenched
in a pretended which paralyzes me. Oh, not for the reason you think;
for, ignorant as you may be, or indifferent as you feign to be, you are
none the less what you are, monseigneur, and there is nothing--nothing,
mark me! which can cause you not to be so."

"I promise you," replied the prisoner, "to hear you without impatience.
Only it appears