"and the proof
is that he has unharbored me at Belle-Isle. That is amiable, is it not?"

"Ah! yes," said Aramis, "at Belle-Isle! certainly!"

"Good!" said D'Artagnan; "there is my booby Porthos, without thinking of
it, has fired the first cannon of attack."

"At Belle-Isle!" said Aramis, "in that hole, in that desert! That is
kind, indeed!"

"And it was I who told him you were at Vannes," continued Porthos, in
the same tone.

D'Artagnan armed his mouth with a finesse almost ironical.

"Yes, I knew, but I was willing to see," replied he.

"To see what?"

"If our old friendship still held out, if, on seeing each other, our
hearts, hardened as they are by age, would still let the old cry of joy
escape, which salutes the coming of a friend."

"Well, and you must have been satisfied," said Aramis.

"So, so."

"How is that?"

"Yes, Porthos said hush! and you----"

"Well! and I?"

"And you gave me your benediction."

"What would you have, my friend?" said Aramis, smiling; "that is the
most precious thing that a poor prelate, like me, has to give."

"Indeed, my dear friend!"

"Doubtless."

"And yet they say at Paris that the bishopric of Vannes is one of the
best in France."

"Ah! you are now speaking of temporal wealth," said Aramis, with a
careless air.

"To be sure, I wish to speak of that; I hold by it, on my part."

"In that case, let me speak of it," said Aramis, with a smile.

"You own yourself to be one of the richest prelates in France?"

"My friend, since you ask me to give you an account, I will tell you
that the bishopric of Vannes is worth about twenty thousand livres a
year, neither more nor less. It is a diocese which contains a hundred
and sixty parishes."

"That is very pretty," said D'Artagnan.

"It is superb!" said Porthos.

"And yet," resumed D'Artagnan, throwing his eyes over Aramis, "you don't
mean to bury yourself here forever?"

"Pardon me. Only I do not admit the word bury."

"But it seems to me, that at this distance from Paris a man is buried,
or nearly so."

"My friend, I am getting old," said Aramis; "the noise and bustle of
a city no longer suit me. At fifty-seven we ought to seek calm and
meditation. I have found them here. What is there more beautiful,
and stern at the same time, than this old Armorica. I find here, dear
D'Artagnan, all that is opposite to what I formerly loved, and that is
what must happen at the end of life, which is opposite to the begi