"What, do you confess, then? Are you a priest?"
"The same as one. I have such a call."
"But the orders?"
"Oh," said Bazin, without hesitation, "now that monseigneur is a bishop, I shall soon have my orders, or at least my dispensations." And he rubbed his hands.
"Decidedly," said D'Artagnan to himself, "there will be no means of uprooting these people. Get me some supper, Bazin."
"With pleasure, monsieur."
"A fowl, a bouillon, and a bottle of wine."
"This is Saturday night, monsieur--it is a day of abstinence."
"I have a dispensation," said D'Artagnan.
Bazin looked at him suspiciously.
"Ah, ah, master hypocrite!" said the musketeer, "for whom do you take me? If you, who are the valet, hope for dispensation to commit a crime, shall not I, the friend of your bishop, have dispensation for eating meat at the call of my stomach? Make yourself agreeable with me, Bazin, or by heavens! I will complain to the king, and you shall never confess. Now you know that the nomination of bishops rests with the king,--I have the king, I am the stronger."
Bazin smiled hypocritically. "Ah, but we have monsieur le surintendant," said he.
"And you laugh at the king, then?"
Bazin made no reply; his smile was sufficiently eloquent.
"My supper," said D'Artagnan, "it is getting towards seven o'clock."
Bazin turned round and ordered the eldest of the pupils to inform the cook. In the meantime, D'Artagnan surveyed the presbytery.
"Phew!" said he, disdainfully, "monseigneur lodged his grandeur very meanly here."
"We have the Chateau de Vaux," said Bazin.
"Which is perhaps equal to the Louvre?" said D'Artagnan, jeeringly.
"Which is better," replied Bazin, with the greatest coolness imaginable.
"Ah, ah!" said D'Artagnan.
He would perhaps have prolonged the discussion, and maintained the superiority of the Louvre, but the lieutenant perceived that his horse remained fastened to the bars of a gate.
"The devil!" said he. "Get my horse looked after; your master the bishop has none like him in his stables."
Bazin cast a sidelong glance at the horse, and replied, "Monsieur le surintendant gave him four from his own stables; and each of the four is worth four of yours."
The blood mounted to the face of D'Artagnan. His hand itched and his eye glanced over the head of Bazin, to select the place upon which he should discharge his anger. But it passed away; reflection came, and D'Artagnan contented himself with saying,-"The devil! the devil! I have done well to quit the service of the king. Tell me, worthy Master Bazin," added he, "how many musketeers does monsieur le surintendant retain in his service?"