"You do understand, I see," said Aramis. "Very good." Baisemeaux clasped his hands together.
"But why, at all events, after having taken Marchiali away from me, do you bring him back again?" cried the unhappy governor, in a paroxysm of terror, and completely dumfounded.
"For a friend, such as you are," said Aramis—"for so devoted a servant, I have no secrets;" and he put his mouth close to Baisemeaux's ear, as he said in a low tone of voice, "you know the resemblance between that unfortunate fellow, and—"
"And the king?—yes!"
"Very good; the very first use that Marchiali made of his liberty was to persist—. Can you guess what?"
"How is it likely I should guess?"
"To persist in saying that he was the king of France; to dress himself up in clothes like those of the king; and then pretend to assume that he was the king himself."
"Gracious heavens!"
"That is the reason why I have brought him back again, my dear friend. He is mad, and lets every one see how mad he is."
"What is to be done, then?"