“Very well! Then you gain seven francs and a half upon those who pay you fifteen francs.” “I _must_ compensate myself somehow,” said Baisemeaux, who saw how he had been snapped up. “You are quite right, my dear governor; but have you no prisoners below ten francs?” “Oh, yes! we have citizens and barristers at five francs.” “And do they eat, too?” “Not a doubt about it; only you understand that they do not get fish or poultry, nor rich wines at every meal; but at all events thrice a week they have a good dish at their dinner.” “Really, you are quite a philanthropist, my dear governor, and you will ruin yourself.” “No; understand me; when the fifteen-franc has not eaten his fowl, or the ten-franc has left his dish unfinished, I send it to the five-franc prisoner; it is a feast for the poor devil, and one must be charitable, you know.” “And what do you make out of your five-franc prisoners?” “A franc and a half.” “Baisemeaux, you’re an honest fellow; in honest truth I say so.” “Thank you, my lord. But I feel most for the small tradesmen and bailiffs’ clerks, who are rated at three francs. They do not often see Rhine carp or Channel sturgeon.” “But do not the five-franc gentlemen sometimes leave some scraps?” “Oh! my lord, do not believe I am so stingy as that; I delight the heart of some poor little tradesman or clerk by sending him a wing of a red partridge, a slice of venison, or a slice of a truffled pasty, dishes which he never tasted except in his dreams; these are the leavings of the twenty-four-franc prisoners; and as he eats and drinks, at dessert he cries ‘Long live the King,’ and blesses the Bastile; with a couple bottles of champagne, which cost me five sous, I make him tipsy every Sunday. That class of people call down blessings upon me, and are sorry to leave the prison. Do you know that I have remarked, and it does me infinite honor, that certain prisoners, who have been set at liberty, have, almost immediately afterwards, got imprisoned again? Why should this be the case, unless it be to enjoy the pleasures of my kitchen? It is really the fact.” Aramis smiled with an expression of incredulity. “You smile,” said Baisemeaux. “I do,” returned Aramis. “I tell you that we have names which have been inscribed on our books thrice in the space of two years.” “I must see it before I believe it,” said Aramis. “Well, I can show it to you, although it is prohibited to communicate the registers to strangers; and if you really wish to see it with your own eyes--” “I should be delighted, I confess.” “Very well,” said Baisemeaux, and he took out of a cupboard a large register. Aramis followed him most anxiously with his eyes, and Baisemeaux returned, placed the register upon the table, and turned over the leaves for a minute, and stayed at the letter M.