LITMIR.BIZ

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right. And that of M. de Lyonne?”

      “I see it plain enough on the order; but for the same reason that the king’s signature may have been forged, so also, and with even greater probability, may M. de Lyonne’s.”

      “Your logic has the stride of a giant, M. de Baisemeaux,” said Aramis; “and your reasoning is irresistible. But on what special grounds do you base your idea that these signatures are false?”

      “On this: the absence of counter-signatures. Nothing checks his majesty’s signature; and M. de Lyonne is not there to tell me he has signed.”

      “Well, Monsieur de Baisemeaux,” said Aramis, bending an eagle glance on the governor, “I adopt so frankly your doubts, and your mode of clearing them up, that I will take a pen, if you will give me one.”

      Baisemeaux gave him a pen.

      “And a sheet of white paper,” added Aramis.

      Baisemeaux handed him some paper.

      “Now, I – I, also – I, here present – incontestably, I – am going to write an order to which I am certain you will give credence, incredulous as you are!”

      Baisemeaux turned pale at this icy assurance of manner. It seemed to him that the voice of the bishop’s, but just now so playful and gay, had become funereal and sad; that the wax lights changed into the tapers of a mortuary chapel, the very glasses of wine into chalices of blood.

      Aramis took a pen and wrote. Baisemeaux, in terror, read over his shoulder.

      “A. M. D. G.,” wrote the bishop; and he drew a cross under these four letters, which signify ad majorem Dei gloriam, “to the greater glory of God;” and thus he continued: “It is our pleasure that the order brought to M. de Baisemeaux de Montlezun, governor, for the king, of the castle of the Bastile, be held by him good and effectual, and be immediately carried into operation.”

      (Signed) D’HERBLAY

      “General of the Order, by the grace of God.”

      Baisemeaux was so profoundly astonished, that his features remained contracted, his lips parted, and his eyes fixed. He did not move an inch, nor articulate a sound. Nothing could be heard in that large chamber but the wing-whisper of a little moth, which was fluttering to its death about the candles. Aramis, without even deigning to look at the man whom he had reduced to so miserable a condition, drew from his pocket a small case of black wax; he sealed the letter, and stamped it with a seal suspended at his breast, beneath his doublet, and when the operation was concluded, presented – still in silence – the missive to M. de Baisemeaux. The latter, whose hands trembled in a manner to excite pity, turned a dull and meaningless gaze upon the letter. A last gleam of feeling played over his features, and he fell, as if thunder-struck, on a chair.

      “Come, come,” said Aramis, after a long silence, during which the governor of the Bastile had slowly recovered his senses, “do not lead me to believe, dear Baisemeaux, that the presence of the general of the order is as terrible as His, and that men die merely from having seen Him. Take courage, rouse yourself; give me your hand – obey.”

      Baisemeaux, reassured, if not satisfied, obeyed, kissed Aramis’s hand, and rose. “Immediately?” he murmured.

      “Oh, there is no pressing haste, my host; take your place again, and do the honors over this beautiful dessert.”

      “Monseigneur, I shall never recover such a shock as this; I who have laughed, who have jested with you! I who have dared to treat you on a footing of equality!”

      “Say nothing about it, old comrade,” replied the bishop, who perceived how strained the cord was and how dangerous it would have been to break it; “say nothing about it. Let us each live in our own way; to you, my protection and my friendship; to me, your obedience. Having exactly fulfilled these two requirements, let us live happily.”

      Baisemeaux reflected; he perceived, at a glance, the consequence of this withdrawal of a prisoner by means of a forged order; and, putting in the scale the guarantee offered him by the official order of the general, did not consider it of any value.

      Aramis divined this. “My dear Baisemeaux,” said he, “you are a simpleton. Lose this habit of reflection when I give myself the trouble to think for you.”

      And at another gesture he made, Baisemeaux bowed again. “How shall I set about it?” he said.

      “What is the process for releasing a prisoner?”

      “I have the regulations.”

      “Well, then, follow the regulations, my friend.”

      “I go with my major to the prisoner’s room, and conduct him, if he is a personage of importance.”

      “But this Marchiali is not an important personage,” said Aramis carelessly.

      “I don’t know,” answered the governor, as if he would have said, “It is for you to instruct me.”

      “Then if you don’t know it, I am right; so act towards Marchiali as you act towards one of obscure station.”

      “Good; the regulations so provide. They are to the effect that the turnkey, or one of the lower officials, shall bring the prisoner before the governor, in the office.”

      “Well, ‘tis very wise, that; and then?”

      “Then we return to the prisoner the valuables he wore at the time of his imprisonment, his clothes and papers, if the minister’s orders have not otherwise dictated.”

      “What was the minister’s order as to this Marchiali?”

      “Nothing; for the unhappy man arrived here without jewels, without papers, and almost without clothes.”

      “See how simple, then, all is. Indeed, Baisemeaux, you make a mountain of everything. Remain here, and make them bring the prisoner to the governor’s house.”

      Baisemeaux obeyed. He summoned his lieutenant, and gave him an order, which the latter passed on, without disturbing himself about it, to the next whom it concerned.

      Half an hour afterwards they heard a gate shut in the court; it was the door to the dungeon, which had just rendered up its prey to the free air. Aramis blew out all the candles which lighted the room but one, which he left burning behind the door. This flickering glare prevented the sight from resting steadily on any object. It multiplied tenfold the changing forms and shadows of the place, by its wavering uncertainty. Steps drew near.

      “Go and meet your men,” said Aramis to Baisemeaux.

      The governor obeyed. The sergeant and turnkeys disappeared. Baisemeaux re-entered, followed by a prisoner. Aramis had placed himself in the shade; he saw without being seen. Baisemeaux, in an agitated tone of voice, made the young man acquainted with the order which set him at liberty. The prisoner listened, without making a single gesture or saying a word.

      “You will swear (‘tis the regulation that requires it),” added the governor, “never to reveal anything that you have seen or heard in the Bastile.”

      The prisoner perceived a crucifix; he stretched out his hands and swore with his lips. “And now, monsieur, you are free. Whither do you intend going?”

      The prisoner turned his head, as if looking behind him for some protection, on which he ought to rely. Then was it that Aramis came out of the shade: “I am here,” he said, “to render the gentleman whatever service he may please to ask.”

      The prisoner slightly reddened, and, without hesitation, passed his arm through that of Aramis. “God have you in his holy keeping,” he said, in a voice the firmness of which made the governor tremble as much as the form of the blessing astonished him.

      Aramis, on shaking hands with Baisemeaux, said to him; “Does my order trouble you? Do you fear their finding it here, should they come to search?”

      “I desire to keep it, monseigneur,” said Baisemeaux. “If they found it here, it would be a certain indication I should be lost, and in that case you would be a powerful and a last auxiliary for me.”

      “Being

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