ean--at fifteen
francs! No, no! it is his neighbor who is at fifteen francs."

"Which neighbor?"

"The other, second Bertaudiere."

"Excuse me, my dear governor; but you speak a language which requires
quite an apprenticeship to understand."

"Very true," said the governor. "Allow me to explain: second Bertaudiere
is the person who occupies the second floor of the tower of the
Bertaudiere."

"So that Bertaudiere is the name of one of the towers of the Bastile?
The fact is, I think I recollect hearing that each tower has a name of
its own. Whereabouts is the one you are speaking of?"

"Look," said Baisemeaux, going to the window. "It is that tower to the
left--the second one."

"Is the prisoner at fifteen francs there?"

"Yes."

"Since when?"

"Seven or eight years, nearly."

"What do you mean by nearly? Do you not know the dates more precisely?"

"It was not in my time, M. d'Herblay."

"But I should have thought that Louviere or Tremblay would have told
you."

"The secrets of the Bastile are never handed over with the keys of the
governorship."

"Indeed! Then the cause of his imprisonment is a mystery--a state
secret."

"Oh, no! I do not suppose it is a state secret, but a secret--like
everything that happens at the Bastile."

"But," said Aramis, "why do you speak more freely of Seldon than of
second Bertaudiere?"

"Because, in my opinion, the crime of the man who writes a distich is
not so great as that of the man who resembles--"

"Yes, yes; I understand you. Still, do not the turnkeys talk with your
prisoners?"

"Of course."

"The prisoners, I suppose, tell them they are not guilty?"

"They are _always_ telling them that; it is a matter of course; the same
song over and over again."

"But does not the resemblance you were speaking about just now strike
the turnkeys?"

"My dear M. d'Herblay, it is only for men attached to the court, as you
are, to take trouble about such matters."

"You're right, you're right, my dear M. Baisemeaux. Let me give you
another taste of this Volnay."

"Not a taste merely, a full glass; fill yours too."

"Nay, nay! You are a musketeer still, to the very tips of your fingers,
while I have become a bishop. A taste for me; a glass for yourself."

"As you please." And Aramis and the governor nodded to each other, as
they drank their wine. "But," said Aramis, looking with fixed attention
at the ruby-colored wine he had raised to the level of his eyes, as i