“Will you name him?”
“Oh, you know him well, my lord—it is Count de Rochefort.”
“Ah! really, yes,” said the coadjutor, “I have heard this affair mentioned. You raised the whole district, so they told me!”
“Very nearly,” replied Planchet, with a self-satisfied air.
“And your business is——”
“That of a confectioner, in the Rue des Lombards.”
“Explain to me how it happens that, following so peaceful a business, you had such warlike inclinations.”
“Why does my lord, belonging to the church, now receive me in the dress of an officer, with a sword at his side and spurs to his boots?”
“Not badly answered, i’faith,” said Gondy, laughing; “but I have, you must know, always had, in spite of my bands, warlike inclinations.”
“Well, my lord, before I became a confectioner I myself was three years sergeant in the Piedmontese regiment, and before I became sergeant I was for eighteen months the servant of Monsieur d’Artagnan.”