g one's self, monseigneur, nor being
wanting in the respect which a subaltern owes to his superior officers,
nor infringing the duties of that service which one has voluntarily
accepted."

"Very good; you have just spoken so eloquently, that I cannot but admire
you. It is true that a subaltern owes respect to his superiors; he is
guilty when he deceives himself, and he should be punished if he
infringe either the duties or laws of his office." Baisemeaux looked at
the bishop with astonishment.

"It follows," pursued Aramis, "that you are going to ask advice, to put
your conscience at ease in the matter?"

"Yes, monseigneur."

"And if a superior officer gives you orders, you will obey?"

"Never doubt it, monseigneur."

"You know the king's signature well, M. de Baisemeaux?"

"Yes, monseigneur."

"Is it not on this order of release?"

"It is true, but it may--"

"Be forged, you mean?"

"That is evident, monseigneur."

"You are 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, even more likely, 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 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 that voice of the bishop's, but just now so playful and so gay, had
become funereal and sad; that the wax-lights changed into the tapers of
a mortuary chapel, and the 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 greate