d Porthos held out to the bishop the
letter we have already seen. Aramis begged to be allowed to read it, and
read it without D'Artagnan feeling in the slightest degree embarrassed
by the circumstance that he was so well acquainted with the contents of
it. Besides, Aramis' face was so impenetrable, that D'Artagnan could not
but admire him more than ever; after he had read it, he put the letter
into his pocket with the calmest possible air.

"You were saying, captain?" he observed.

"I was saying," continued the musketeer, "that I had gone to pay
Baisemeaux a visit on his majesty's service."

"On his majesty's service?" said Aramis.

"Yes," said D'Artagnan, "and, naturally enough, we talked about you and
our friends. I must say that Baisemeaux received me coldly; so I soon
took my leave of him. As I was returning, a soldier accosted me, and
said (no doubt he recognized me, notwithstanding I was in private
clothes), 'Captain, will you be good enough to read me the name written
on this envelope?' and I read, 'To Monsieur de Valon, at M. Fouquet's,
Saint-Mande.' The deuce, said I to myself, Porthos has not returned,
then, as I fancied, to Belle-Isle or Pierrefonds, but is at M. Fouquet's
house, at Saint-Mande: and as M. Fouquet is not at Saint-Mande, Porthos
must be quite alone, or, at all events, with Aramis; I will go and see
Porthos, and I accordingly went to see Porthos."

"Very good," said Aramis, thoughtfully.

"You never told me that," said Porthos.

"I did not have the time, my friend."

"And you brought back Porthos with you to Fontainebleau?"

"Yes, to Planchet's house."

"Does Planchet live at Fontainebleau?" inquired Aramis.

"Yes, near the cemetery," said Porthos, thoughtlessly.

"What do you mean by 'near the cemetery?'" said Aramis, suspiciously.

"Come," thought the musketeer, "since there is to be a squabble, let us
take advantage of it."

"Yes; the cemetery," said Porthos. "Planchet is a very excellent fellow,
who makes very excellent preserves; but his house has windows which look
out upon the cemetery. And a very melancholy prospect it is! So this
morning--"

"This morning?" said Aramis, more and more excited.

D'Artagnan turned his back to them, and walked to the window, where he
began to play a march upon one of the panes of glass.

"Yes; this morning, we saw a man buried there."

"Ah! ah!"

"Very depressing, was it not? I should never be able to live in a house
where burials ca