“I felt that as I had committed no crime, Heaven could not punish me.” “What is a prison, then,” inquired Aramis, “if it be not a punishment.” “Alas! I cannot tell,” said the young man; “all that I can tell you now is the very opposite of what I felt seven years ago.” “To hear you converse, to witness your resignation, one might almost believe that you liked your imprisonment?” “I endure it.” “In the certainty of recovering your freedom some day, I suppose?” “I have no certainty; hope, I have, and that is all; and yet I acknowledge that this hope becomes less every day.” “Still, why should you not again be free, since you have already been so?” “That is precisely the reason,” replied the young man, “which prevents me from expecting liberty; why should I have been imprisoned at all if it had been intended to release me afterwards?” “How old are you?” “I do not know.” “What is your name?” “I have forgotten the name by which I was called.” “Who are your parents?” “I never knew them.” “But those who brought you up?” “They did not call me their son.” “Did you ever love any one before coming here?” “I loved my nurse, and my flowers.” “Was that all?” “I also loved my valet.” “Do you regret your nurse and your valet?” “I wept very much when they died.” “Did they die since you have been here, or before you came?” “They died the evening before I was carried off.” “Both at the same time?” “Yes, both at the same time.” “In what manner were you carried off?” “A man came for me, directed me to get into a carriage, which was closed and locked, and brought me here.” “Would you be able to recognize that man again?” “He was masked.” “Is this not an extraordinary tale?” said Baisemeaux, in a low tone of voice, to Aramis, who could hardly breathe. “It is indeed extraordinary,” he murmured. “But what is still more extraordinary is, that he has never told me so much as he has just told you.” “Perhaps the reason may be that you have never questioned him,” said Aramis. “It’s possible,” replied Baisemeaux; “I have no curiosity. Have you looked at the room? it’s a fine one, is it not?” “Very much so.” “A carpet--” “Beautiful.” “I’ll wager he had nothing like it before he came here.” “I think so, too.” And then again turning towards the young man, he said, “Do you not remember to have been visited at some time or another by a strange lady or gentleman?” “Yes, indeed; thrice by a woman, who each time came to the door in a carriage, and entered covered with a veil, which she raised when we were together and alone.” “Do you remember that woman?” “Yes.” “What did she say to you?” The young man smiled mournfully, and then replied, “She inquired, as you have just done, if I were happy, and if I were getting weary.” “What did she do on arriving, and on leaving you?” “She pressed me in her arms, held me in her embrace, and kissed me.” “Do you remember her?” “Perfectly.” “Do you recall her features distinctly?” “Yes.”