"What a confessor!" said the governor, forcing a laugh; "who would believe that a mere recluse, a man almost dead, could have committed crimes so numerous, and so long to tell of?"
Aramis made no reply. He was eager to leave the Bastille, where the secret which overwhelmed him seemed to double the weight of the walls.
As soon as they reached Baisemeaux's quarters, "Let us proceed to business, my dear governor," said Aramis.
"Alas!" replied Baisemeaux.
"You have to ask me for my receipt for one hundred and fifty thousand livres," said the bishop.
"And to pay over the first third of the sum," added the poor governor, with a sigh, taking three steps toward his iron strong-box.
"Here is the receipt," said Aramis.
"And here is the money," returned Baisemeaux, with a threefold sigh.
"The order instructed me only to give a receipt; it said nothing about receiving the money," rejoined Aramis. "Adieu, Monsieur le Gouverneur!"
And he departed, leaving Baisemeaux almost more than stifled with joy and surprise at this regal present so liberally bestowed by the confessor extraordinary to the Bastille.