“At all events, since you yourself admit you have done nothing but write that unhappy distich--” “But without any intention, I swear. Let me be punished--cut off the hand which wrote it, I will work with the other--but restore my mother to me.” “My boy,” said Baisemeaux, “you know very well that it does not depend upon me; all I can do for you is to increase your rations, give you a glass of port wine now and then, slip in a biscuit for you between a couple of plates.” “Great heaven!” exclaimed the young man, falling backward and rolling on the ground. Aramis, unable to bear this scene any longer, withdrew as far as the landing. “Unhappy, wretched man,” he murmured. “Yes, monsieur, he is indeed very wretched,” said the jailer; “but it is his parents’ fault.” “In what way?” “No doubt. Why did they let him learn Latin? Too much knowledge, you see; it is that which does harm. Now I, for instance, can’t read or write, and therefore I am not in prison.” Aramis looked at the man, who seemed to think that being a jailer in the Bastile was not being in prison. As for Baisemeaux, noticing the little effect produced by his advice and his port wine, he left the dungeon quite upset. “You have forgotten to close the door,” said the jailer. “So I have,” said Baisemeaux; “there are the keys, do you do it.” “I will solicit the pardon of that poor boy,” said Aramis. “And if you do not succeed,” said Baisemeaux, “at least beg that he may be transferred to the ten-franc list, by which both he and I shall be gainers.” “If the other prisoner calls out for his mother in a similar manner,” said Aramis, “I prefer not to enter at all, but will take my measure from outside.” “No fear of that, monsieur architect, the one we are now going to see is as gentle as a lamb; before he could call after his mother he must open his lips, and he never says a word.” “Let us go in, then,” said Aramis, gloomily. “Are you the architect of the prisons, monsieur?” said the jailer. “I am.” “It is odd, then, that you are not more accustomed to all this.” Aramis perceived that, to avoid giving rise to any suspicions, he must summon all his strength of mind to his assistance. Baisemeaux, who carried the keys, opened the door. “Stay outside,” he said to the jailer, “and wait for us at the bottom of the steps.” The jailer obeyed and withdrew.