"Nay, nay! You are a musketeer still, to the very tips of your fingers, while I have become a bishop. A taste for me; a glass for yourself."
"As you please." And Aramis and the governor nodded to each other as they drank their wine. "But," said Aramis, looking with fixed attention at the ruby-colored wine he had raised to the level of his eyes, as if he wished to enjoy it with all his senses at the same moment; "but what you might call a resemblance, another would not, perhaps, take any notice of."
"Most certainly he would, though, if it were any one who knew the person he resembles."
"I really think, dear Monsieur de Baisemeaux, that it can be nothing more than a resemblance of your own creation."
"Upon my honor, it is not so."
"Stay," continued Aramis. "I have seen many persons very like the one we are speaking of; but out of respect no one ever said anything about it."
"Very likely; because there are resemblances and resemblances. This is a striking one, and if you were to see him you would admit it to be so."
"If I were to see him, indeed," said Aramis, in an indifferent tone; "but in all probability I never shall."
"Why not?"
"Because if I were even to put my foot inside one of those horrible dungeons I should fancy I was buried there forever."
"No, no; the cells are very good as places to live in."
"I really do not, and cannot believe it, and that is a fact."
"Pray do not speak ill of the second Bertaudière. It is really a good room, very nicely furnished and carpeted. The young fellow has by no means been unhappy there; the best lodging the Bastile affords has been his. There is a chance for you."
"Nay, nay," said Aramis coldly; "you will never make me believe there are any good rooms in the Bastile; and as for your carpets, they exist in your imagination. I should find nothing but spiders, rats, and perhaps toads, too."
"Toads?" said Baisemeaux.
"Yes, in the dungeons."
"Ah! I don't say there are not toads in the dungeons,"
