Baisemeaux took the register, hastily restored it to its place in the closet, which he locked, and put the key in his pocket. “Will it be agreeable to your lordship to breakfast now?” said he; “for you are right in supposing that breakfast was announced.” “Assuredly, my dear governor,” and they passed into the dining-room. Chapter XXIV. The Breakfast at Monsieur de Baisemeaux’s. Aramis was generally temperate; but on this occasion, while taking every care of his constitution, he did ample justice to Baisemeaux’s breakfast, which, in all respects, was most excellent. The latter on his side, was animated with the wildest gayety; the sight of the five thousand pistoles, which he glanced at from time to time, seemed to open his heart. Every now and then he looked at Aramis with an expression of the deepest gratitude; while the latter, leaning back in his chair, took a few sips of wine from his glass, with the air of a connoisseur. “Let me never hear any ill words against the fare of the Bastile,” said he, half closing his eyes; “happy are the prisoners who can get only half a bottle of such Burgundy every day.” “All those at fifteen francs drink it,” said Baisemeaux. “It is very old Volnay.” “Does that poor student, Seldon, drink such good wine?” “Oh, no!” “I thought I heard you say he was boarded at fifteen francs.” “He! no, indeed; a man who makes districts--distichs I mean--at fifteen francs! No, no! it is his neighbor who is at fifteen francs.” “Which neighbor?” “The other, second Bertaudiere.” “Excuse me, my dear governor; but you speak a language which requires quite an apprenticeship to understand.” “Very true,” said the governor. “Allow me to explain: second Bertaudiere is the person who occupies the second floor of the tower of the Bertaudiere.” “So that Bertaudiere is the name of one of the towers of the Bastile? The fact is, I think I recollect hearing that each tower has a name of its own. Whereabouts is the one you are speaking of?” “Look,” said Baisemeaux, going to the window. “It is that tower to the left--the second one.” “Is the prisoner at fifteen francs there?” “Yes.” “Since when?” “Seven or eight years, nearly.” “What do you mean by nearly? Do you not know the dates more precisely?” “It was not in my time, M. d’Herblay.” “But I should have thought that Louviere or Tremblay would have told you.” “The secrets of the Bastile are never handed over with the keys of the governorship.” “Indeed! Then the cause of his imprisonment is a mystery--a state secret.” “Oh, no! I do not suppose it is a state secret, but a secret--like everything that happens at the Bastile.” “But,” said Aramis, “why do you speak more freely of Seldon than of second Bertaudiere?” “Because, in my opinion, the crime of the man who writes a distich is not so great as that of the man who resembles--” “Yes, yes; I understand you. Still, do not the turnkeys talk with your prisoners?” “Of course.”