itor which it
was necessary to get rid of at all events, as, at any price, a general
extinguishes a battery which annoys him, Aramis stretched forth his
beautiful white hand, upon which sparkled the amethyst of the pastoral
ring; he cut the air with sign of the cross, and poured out his
benediction upon his two friends. Perhaps thoughtful and absent,
D'Artagnan, impious in spite of himself, might not have bent beneath
this holy benediction; but Porthos saw his distraction, and laying
his friendly hand upon the back of his companion, he crushed him down
towards the earth. D'Artagnan was forced to give way; indeed, he was
little short of being flat on the ground. In the meantime Aramis had
passed. D'Artagnan, like Antaeus, had only touched the ground, and he
turned towards Porthos, almost angry. But there was no mistaking the
intention of the brave Hercules; it was a feeling of religious propriety
that had influenced him. Besides, speech with Porthos, instead of
disguising his thought, always completed it.

"It is very polite of him," said he, "to have given his benediction to
us alone. Decidedly, he is a holy man, and a brave man." Less convinced
than Porthos, D'Artagnan made no reply.

"Observe, my friend," continued Porthos, "he has seen us; and, instead
of continuing to walk on at the simple pace of the procession, as he
did just now,--see, what a hurry he is in; do you see how the cortege
is increasing its speed? He is eager to join us and embrace us, is that
dear Aramis."

"That is true," replied D'Artagnan, aloud.--Then to himself:--"It is
equally true he has seen me, the fox, and will have time to prepare
himself to receive me."

But the procession had passed; the road was free. D'Artagnan and Porthos
walked straight up to the episcopal palace, which was surrounded by a
numerous crowd anxious to see the prelate return. D'Artagnan remarked
that this crowd was composed principally of citizens and military
men. He recognized in the nature of these partisans the address of his
friend. Aramis was not the man to seek for a useless popularity. He
cared very little for being beloved by people who could be of no service
to him. Women, children, and old men, that is to say, the cortege of
ordinary pastors, was not the cortege for him.

Ten minutes after the two friends had passed the threshold of the
palace, Aramis returned like a triumphant conqueror; the soldiers
presented arms to him as to a superior; the citizens