Twenty Years After - The Original Classic Edition. Dumas d.Ä. Alexandre

Bazin.

       "Monsieur Bazin, the beadle?" said the verger. "Yes. There he is, attending mass, in the chapel of the Virgin."

       D'Artagnan nearly jumped for joy; he had despaired of finding Bazin, but now, he thought, since he held one end of the thread he

       would be pretty sure to reach the other end.

       He knelt down just opposite the chapel in order not to lose sight of his man; and as he had almost forgotten his prayers and had

       omitted to take a book with him, he made use of his time in gazing at Bazin.

       Bazin wore his dress, it may be observed, with equal dignity and saintly propriety. It was not difficult to understand that he had gained the crown of his ambition and that the silver-mounted wand he brandished was in his eyes as honorable a distinction as the marshal's baton which Conde threw, or did not throw, into the enemy's line of battle at Fribourg. His person had undergone a

       change, analogous to the change in his dress; his figure had grown rotund and, as it were, canonical. The striking points of his face were effaced; he had still a nose, but his cheeks, fattened out, each took a portion of it unto themselves; his chin had joined his throat; his eyes were swelled up with the puffiness of his cheeks; his hair, cut straight in holy guise, covered his forehead as far as his eyebrows.

       The officiating priest was just finishing mass whilst D'Artagnan was looking at Bazin; he pronounced the words of the holy Sacra-ment and retired, giving the benediction, which was received by the kneeling communicants, to the astonishment of D'Artagnan,

       who recognized in the priest the coadjutor* himself, the famous Jean Francois Gondy, who at that time, having a presentiment of the part he was to play, was beginning to court popularity by almsgiving. It was to this end that he performed from time to time some of those early masses which the common people, generally, alone attended.

       *A sacerdotal officer.

       D'Artagnan knelt as well as the rest, received his share of the benediction and made the sign of the cross; but when Bazin passed in

       his turn, with his eyes raised to Heaven and walking, in all humility, the very last, D'Artagnan pulled him by the hem of his robe.

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       Bazin looked down and started, as if he had seen a serpent.

       "Monsieur d'Artagnan!" he cried; "Vade retro Satanas!"

       "So, my dear Bazin!" said the officer, laughing, "this is the way you receive an old friend."

       "Sir," replied Bazin, "the true friends of a Christian are those who aid him in working out his salvation, not those who hinder him in doing so."

       "I don't understand you, Bazin; nor can I see how I can be a stumbling-block in the way of your salvation," said D'Artagnan. "You forget, sir, that you very nearly ruined forever that of my master; and that it was owing to you that he was very nearly being

       damned eternally for remaining a musketeer, whilst all the time his true vocation was the church."

       "My dear Bazin, you ought to perceive," said D'Artagnan, "from the place in which you find me, that I am greatly changed in everything. Age produces good sense, and, as I doubt not but that your master is on the road to salvation, I want you to tell me where he is, that he may help me to mine."

       "Rather say, to take him back with you into the world. Fortunately, I don't know where he is."

       "How!" cried D'Artagnan; "you don't know where Aramis is?"

       "Formerly," replied Bazin, "Aramis was his name of perdition. By Aramis is meant Simara, which is the name of a demon. Happily for him he has ceased to bear that name."

       "And therefore," said D'Artagnan, resolved to be patient to the end, "it is not Aramis I seek, but the Abbe d'Herblay. Come, my dear

       Bazin, tell me where he is."

       "Didn't you hear me tell you, Monsieur d'Artagnan, that I don't know where he is?"

       "Yes, certainly; but to that I answer that it is impossible."

       "It is, nevertheless, the truth, monsieur--the pure truth, the truth of the good God."

       D'Artagnan saw clearly that he would get nothing out of this man, who was evidently telling a falsehood in his pretended ignorance of the abode of Aramis, but whose lies were bold and decided.

       "Well, Bazin," said D'Artagnan, "since you do not know where your master lives, let us speak of it no more; let us part good friends.

       Accept this half-pistole to drink to my health."

       "I do not drink"--Bazin pushed away with dignity the officer's hand--"'tis good only for the laity."

       "Incorruptible!" murmured D'Artagnan; "I am unlucky;" and whilst he was lost in thought Bazin retreated toward the sacristy, and

       even there he could not think himself safe until he had shut and locked the door behind him.

       D'Artagnan was still in deep thought when some one touched him on the shoulder. He turned and was about to utter an exclamation of surprise when the other made to him a sign of silence.

       "You here, Rochefort?" he said, in a low voice.

       "Hush!" returned Rochefort. "Did you know that I am at liberty?"

       "I knew it from the fountain-head--from Planchet. And what brought you here?" "I came to thank God for my happy deliverance," said Rochefort.

       "And nothing more? I suppose that is not all."

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       "To take my orders from the coadjutor and to see if we cannot wake up Mazarin a little."

       "A bad plan; you'll be shut up again in the Bastile."

       "Oh, as to that, I shall take care, I assure you. The air, the fresh, free air is so good; besides," and Rochefort drew a deep breath as he

       spoke, "I am going into the country to make a tour."

       "Stop," cried D'Artagnan; "I, too, am going."

       "And if I may without impertinence ask--where are you going?" "To seek my friends."

       "What friends?"

       "Those that you asked about yesterday."

       "Athos, Porthos and Aramis--you are looking for them?" "Yes."

       "On honor?"

       "What, then, is there surprising in that?"

       "Nothing. Queer, though. And in whose behalf are you looking for them?" "You are in no doubt on that score."

       "That is true."

       "Unfortunately, I have no idea where they are."

       "And you have no way to get news of them? Wait a week and I myself will give you some."

       "A week is too long. I must find them within three days."

       "Three days are a short time and France is large."

       "No matter; you know the word must; with that word great things are done."

       "And when do you set out?" "I am now on my road." "Good luck to you."

       "And to you--a good journey." "Perhaps we shall meet on our road." "That is not probable."

       "Who knows? Chance is so capricious. Adieu, till we meet again! Apropos, should Mazarin speak to you about me, tell him that I

       should have requested you to acquaint him that in a short time he will see whether I am, as he says, too old for action."

       And Rochefort went away with one of those diabolical smiles which used formerly to make D'Artagnan shudder, but D'Artagnan could now see it without alarm, and smiling in his turn, with an expression of melancholy which the recollections called up by that

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       smile could, perhaps, alone give to his countenance, he said:

       "Go, demon, do what thou wilt! It matters little now to me. There's no second Constance in the world."

       On his return to the cathedral, D'Artagnan saw Bazin, who was conversing with the sacristan. Bazin was