"Well, then," said Aramis, "I love M. Fouquet, and his interests are mine. You know my position--. I have no property or means whatever--. M. Fouquet gave me several livings, a bishopric as well; M. Fouquet has served and obliged me like the generous-hearted man he is, and I know the world sufficiently well to appreciate a kindness when I meet with it. M. Fouquet has won my regard, and I have devoted myself to his service." "You couldn't do better; you will find him a very good master." Aramis bit his lips, and then said, "The best a man could possibly have." He then paused for a minute, D'Artagnan taking good care not to interrupt him. "I suppose you know how Porthos got mixed up in all this?" "No," said D'Artagnan: "I am curious, of course, but I never question a friend when he wishes to keep his real secret from me." "Well, then, I will tell you." "It is hardly worth the trouble, if the confidence is to bind me in any way." "Oh, do not be afraid: there is no man whom I love better than Porthos, because he is so simple-minded and good. Porthos is so straightforward in everything. Since I have become a bishop, I have looked for those simple natures, which make me love truth and hate intrigue." D'Artagnan simply stroked his mustache, but said nothing. "I saw Porthos, and again cultivated his acquaintance; his own time hanging idly on his hands, his presence recalled my earlier and better days without engaging me in any present evil. I sent for Porthos to come to Vannes. M. Fouquet, whose regard for me is very great, having learned that Porthos and I were attached to each other by old ties of friendship, promised him increase of rank at the earliest promotion: and that is the whole secret." "I shall not abuse your confidence," said D'Artagnan. "I am sure of that, my dear friend; no one has a finer sense of honor than yourself." "I flatter myself you are right, Aramis." "And now," and here the prelate looked searchingly and scrutinizingly at his friend--"now let us talk of ourselves and for ourselves. Will you become one of M. Fouquet's friends? Do not interrupt me until you know what that means." "Well, I am listening." "Will you become a marechal of France, peer, duke, and the possessor of a duchy, with a revenue of a million of francs?" "But, my friend," replied D'Artagnan, "what must one do to get all that?" "Belong to M. Fouquet." "But I already belong to the king." "Not exclusively, I suppose?" "Oh! D'Artagnan cannot be divided." "You have, I presume, ambitions, as noble hearts like yours have?" "Yes, certainly I have." "Well?" "Well, I wish to be a marechal; the king will make me marechal, duke, peer--the king will make me all that." Aramis fixed a searching look upon D'Artagnan. "Is not the king master?" said D'Artagnan. "No one disputes it; but Louis XIII. was master also." "Oh, my dear friend, between Richelieu and Louis XIII. there was no D'Artagnan," said the musketeer, very quietly.