"I will tell you; or in order to explain myself in the best possible
way, let me relate the affair in my own manner; I will not recommend you
to tell a falsehood, for that would be impossible for you to do; but I
will tell falsehoods enough for both; it is easy to do that when one is
born to the nature and habits of a Gascon."

Athos smiled. The carriage stopped where the one we have just now
pointed out had stopped; namely, at the door of the governor's house.
"It is understood, then?" said D'Artagnan, in a low voice to his friend.
Athos consented by a gesture. They ascended the staircase. There will
be no occasion for surprise at the facility with which they had entered
into the Bastile, if it be remembered that, before passing the first
gate, in fact, the most difficult of all, D'Artagnan had announced that
he had brought a prisoner of state. At the third gate, on the contrary,
that is to say, when he had once fairly entered the prison, he merely
said to the sentinel, "To M. Baisemeaux;" and they both passed on. In a
few minutes they were in the governor's dining-room, and the first face
which attracted D'Artagnan's observation was that of Aramis, who was
seated side by side with Baisemeaux, awaiting the announcement of a
meal whose odor impregnated the whole apartment. If D'Artagnan pretended
surprise, Aramis did not pretend at all; he started when he saw his
two friends, and his emotion was very apparent. Athos and D'Artagnan,
however, complimented him as usual, and Baisemeaux, amazed, completely
stupefied by the presence of his three guests, began to perform a few
evolutions around them.

"By what lucky accident--"

"We were just going to ask you," retorted D'Artagnan.

"Are we going to give ourselves up as prisoners?" cried Aramis, with an
affection of hilarity.

"Ah! ah!" said D'Artagnan; "it is true the walls smell deucedly like a
prison. Monsieur de Baisemeaux, you know you invited me to sup with you
the other day."

"I?" cried Baisemeaux.

"Yes, of course you did, although you now seem so struck with amazement.
Don't you remember it?"

Baisemeaux turned pale and then red, looked at Aramis, who looked at
him, and finished by stammering out, "Certainly--I am delighted--but,
upon my honor--I have not the slightest--Ah! I have such a wretched
memory."

"Well! I am wrong, I see," said D'Artagnan, as if he were offended.

"Wrong, what for?"

"Wrong to remember anything about it, it seems."

Baisemea