ot walk
all day in the governor's garden if it is fine--here if it rains; in the
fresh air if it is warm; in the warm, thanks to my winter stove, if it
be cold? Ah! monsieur, do you fancy," continued the prisoner, not
without bitterness, "that men have not done everything for me that a man
can hope for or desire!"

"Men!" said Aramis; "be it so; but it seems to me you forget Heaven."

"Indeed I have forgotten Heaven," murmured the prisoner, with emotion;
"but why do you mention it? Of what use is it to talk to a prisoner of
Heaven?"

Aramis looked steadily at this singular youth, who possessed the
resignation of a martyr with the smile of an atheist. "Is not Heaven in
everything?" he murmured in a reproachful tone.

"Say rather, at the end of everything," answered the prisoner, firmly.

"Be it so," said Aramis; "but let us return to our starting-point."

"I desire nothing better," returned the young man.

"I am your confessor."

"Yes."

"Well, then, you ought, as a penitent, to tell me the truth."

"All that I wish is to tell it you."

"Every prisoner has committed some crime for which he has been
imprisoned. What crime then have _you_ committed?"

"You asked me the same question the first time you saw me," returned the
prisoner.

"And then, as now, you evaded giving me an answer."

"And what reason have you for thinking that I shall now reply to you?"

"Because this time I am your confessor."

"Then, if you wish me to tell what crime I have committed, explain to me
in what a crime consists. For as my conscience does not accuse me, I
aver that I am not a criminal."

"We are often criminals in the sight of the great of the earth, not
alone for having ourselves committed crimes, but because we know that
crimes have been committed."

The prisoner manifested the deepest attention. "Yes, I understand you,"
he said, after a pause; "yes, you are right, monsieur; it is very
possible that, in that light, I am a criminal in the eyes of the great
of the earth."

"Ah! then you know something," said Aramis, who thought he had pierced
not merely through a defect in, but through the joints of the harness.

"No, I am not aware of anything," replied the young man; "but sometimes
I think--and I say to myself--"

"What do you say to yourself?"

"That if I were to think any further I should either go mad or I should
divine a great deal."

"And then--and then?" said Aramis, impatiently.

"Then I leave off."