cort the Comte de la Fere,"
cried D'Artagnan.
"Thank you for your readiness, gentlemen," said Athos; "I regret to have
occasion to trouble you in this manner."
"I would willingly escort the Comte de la Fere," said some one, "if I
had not to speak to Monsieur d'Artagnan."
"Who is that?" said D'Artagnan, looking into the darkness.
"I, Monsieur d'Artagnan."
"Heaven forgive me, if that is not Monsieur Baisemeaux's voice."
"It is, monsieur."
"What are you doing in the courtyard, my dear Baisemeaux?"
"I am waiting your orders, my dear Monsieur d'Artagnan."
"Wretch that I am," thought D'Artagnan; "true, you have been told,
I suppose, that some one was to be arrested, and have come yourself,
instead of sending an officer?"
"I came because I had occasion to speak to you."
"You did not send to me?"
"I waited until you were disengaged," said Monsieur Baisemeaux, timidly.
"I leave you, D'Artagnan," said Athos.
"Not before I have present Monsieur Baisemeaux de Montlezun, the
governor of the Bastile."
Baisemeaux and Athos saluted each other.
"Surely you must know each other," said D'Artagnan.
"I have an indistinct recollection of Monsieur Baisemeaux," said Athos.
"You remember, my dear, Baisemeaux, the king's guardsman with whom we
used formerly to have such delightful meetings in the cardinal's time?"
"Perfectly," said Athos, taking leave of him with affability.
"Monsieur le Comte de la Fere, whose _nom de guerre_ was Athos,"
whispered D'Artagnan to Baisemeaux.
"Yes, yes, a brave man, one of the celebrated four."
"Precisely so. But, my dear Baisemeaux, shall we talk now?"
"If you please."
"In the first place, as for the orders--there are none. The king does
not intend to arrest the person in question.
"So much the worse," said Baisemeaux with a sigh.
"What do you mean by so much the worse?" exclaimed D'Artagnan, laughing.
"No doubt of it," returned the governor, "my prisoners are my income."
"I beg your pardon, I did not see it in that light."
"And so there are no orders," repeated Baisemeaux with a sigh. "What
an admirable situation yours is, captain," he continued, after a pause;
"captain-lieutenant of the musketeers."
"Oh, it is good enough; but I don't see why you should envy me; you,
governor of the Bastile, the first castle in France."
"I am well aware of that," said Baisemeaux, in a sorrowful tone of
voice.
"You say that like a man confessing his sins. I
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