As to D’Artagnan, he remained perfectly insensible to the enthusiasm of the two men in black.
“Yes, admirable! prorsus admirabile!” continued Aramis; “but which requires a profound study of both the Scriptures and the Fathers. Now, I have confessed to these learned ecclesiastics, and that in all humility, that the duties of mounting guard and the service of the king have caused me to neglect study a little. I should find myself, therefore, more at my ease, facilius natans, in a subject of my own choice, which would be to these hard theological questions what morals are to metaphysics in philosophy.”
D’Artagnan began to be tired, and so did the curate.
“See what an exordium!” cried the Jesuit.
“Exordium,” repeated the curate, for the sake of saying something. “Quemadmodum inter cœlorum immensitatem.”
Aramis cast a glance upon D’Artagnan to see what effect all this produced, and found his friend gaping enough to split his jaws.
“Let us speak French, my father,” said he to the Jesuit; “Monsieur d’Artagnan will enjoy our conversation better.”
“Yes,” replied D’Artagnan; “I am fatigued with reading, and all this Latin confuses me.”
“Certainly,” replied the Jesuit, a little put out, while the curate, greatly delighted, turned upon D’Artagnan a look full of gratitude. “Well, let us see what is to be derived from this gloss. Moses, the servant of God—he was but a servant, please to understand—Moses blessed with the hands; he held out both his arms while the Hebrews beat their enemies, and then he blessed them with his two hands. Besides, what does the Gospel say? Imponite manus, and not manum—place the hands, not the hand.”
“Place the hands,” repeated the curate, with a gesture.