“You would recognize her, then, if accident brought her before you, or led you into her person?” “Most certainly.” A flush of fleeting satisfaction passed across Aramis’s face. At this moment Baisemeaux heard the jailer approaching. “Shall we leave?” he said, hastily, to Aramis. Aramis, who probably had learnt all that he cared to know, replied, “When you like.” The young man saw them prepare to leave, and saluted them politely. Baisemeaux replied merely by a nod of the head, while Aramis, with a respect, arising perhaps from the sight of such misfortune, saluted the prisoner profoundly. They left the room, Baisemeaux closing the door behind them. “Well,” said Baisemeaux, as they descended the staircase, “what do you think of it all?” “I have discovered the secret, my dear governor,” he said. “Bah! what is the secret, then?” “A murder was committed in that house.” “Nonsense.” “But attend; the valet and nurse died the same day.” “Well.” “And by poison. What do you think?” “That is very likely to be true.” “What! that that young man is an assassin?” “Who said that? What makes you think that poor young fellow could be an assassin?” “The very thing I was saying. A crime was committed in his house,” said Aramis, “and that was quite sufficient; perhaps he saw the criminals, and it was feared that he might say something.” “The deuce! if I only thought that--” “Well?” “I would redouble the surveillance.” “Oh, he does not seem to wish to escape.” “You do not know what prisoners are.” “Has he any books?” “None; they are strictly prohibited, and under M. de Mazarin’s own hand.” “Have you the writing still?” “Yes, my lord; would you like to look at it as you return to take your cloak?” “I should, for I like to look at autographs.” “Well, then, this one is of the most unquestionable authenticity; there is only one erasure.” “Ah, ah! an erasure; and in what respect?” “With respect to a figure. At first there was written: ‘To be boarded at fifty francs.’” “As princes of the blood, in fact?” “But the cardinal must have seen his mistake, you understand; for he canceled the zero, and has added a one before the five. But, by the by--” “What?” “You do not speak of the resemblance.” “I do not speak of it, dear M. de Baisemeaux, for a very simple reason-- because it does not exist.” “The deuce it doesn’t.” “Or, if it does exist, it is only in your own imagination; but, supposing it were to exist elsewhere, I think it would be better for you not to speak of about it.” “Really.” “The king, Louis XIV.--you understand--would be excessively angry with you, if he were to learn that you contributed in any way to spread the report that one of his subjects has the effrontery to resemble him.” “It is true, quite true,” said Baisemeaux, thoroughly alarmed; “but I have not spoken of the circumstance to any one but yourself, and you understand, monseigneur, that I perfectly rely on your discretion.” “Oh, be easy.”